Part 1 – The Map in the Dust
Rohan Kapoor had spent his entire life hearing stories from his grandfather—tales of ancient kingdoms, treasure-filled temples, and cities swallowed by the forest. Most people dismissed them as bedtime tales, but Rohan knew better. His grandfather, Captain Aditya Kapoor, had once been a renowned explorer before disappearing into obscurity.
One summer afternoon, while cleaning the dusty attic of their ancestral house in Jodhpur, Rohan found a weathered leather trunk. Inside lay an assortment of faded photographs, yellowed journals, and at the very bottom, wrapped in oilskin, an ancient map. Its edges were frayed, its ink smudged, but in the center, in faded gold lettering, was written:
"The City of Aaryan – The Last Haven of the Sun People."
A shiver ran through him. The legend of Aaryan was whispered among historians—an ancient city said to be overflowing with gold, guarded by deadly traps, and lost for centuries deep in the forests of Arunachal Pradesh.
He carried the map to Professor Meera Sen, an expert in ancient civilizations at Delhi University. She studied it under a magnifying glass and murmured, “This isn’t a forgery, Rohan. The markings match 14th-century expedition records. But… the map shows a route that doesn’t exist on modern charts. Whoever goes looking for this city will be walking into uncharted territory.”
Her warning didn’t deter him. In fact, it only strengthened his resolve. He convinced Meera to join him, along with his old friend Aarav, a wildlife tracker with unmatched jungle skills. The three formed a team, preparing supplies, satellite equipment, ropes, and weapons—not just for wild animals, but for anyone else who might be after the treasure.
Two weeks later, they were deep in the wilds of Arunachal Pradesh, far from mobile towers and paved roads. The jungle was alive with the sounds of insects, rustling leaves, and distant animal calls. The air was thick, humid, and carried the faint scent of rain.
Following the map’s strange symbols, they crossed raging rivers, climbed moss-covered cliffs, and cut through thick bamboo groves. At night, they camped under the stars, the map always close to Rohan’s chest.
On the sixth day, while navigating a narrow ravine, Aarav stopped abruptly. “We’re not alone,” he whispered, pointing to footprints in the damp soil—large, boot-shaped, and recent. Rohan’s stomach tightened. Whoever they were, they were ahead of them.
The next day, the signs became more obvious—discarded food wrappers, a broken machete blade, and once, a faint echo of voices. Someone else had the same map, or at least the same goal.
Late that evening, they stumbled upon an ancient stone arch hidden behind vines. Carvings of sun symbols and warriors covered its surface. Beyond it lay a steep path leading down into a valley shrouded in mist. Meera’s eyes widened. “This is it. This is the entrance to Aaryan.”
They camped nearby, deciding to enter at first light. But at midnight, Rohan awoke to the sound of footsteps. He silently crawled out of his tent and saw two shadowy figures slipping into the valley below. He followed them, heart pounding.
The moonlight revealed their faces—rough-looking men armed with rifles. Treasure hunters. One of them carried a strange metallic device, scanning the ground as they moved.
Suddenly, the earth beneath them gave way, and the two men tumbled into a hidden pit. Rohan ran forward, only to find the pit lined with ancient spikes. One man was motionless; the other groaned, injured.
Before Rohan could react, a third man stepped out of the shadows, pointing a gun at him. His face was lean, his eyes cold. “You must be Captain Kapoor’s grandson,” he said in a chilling voice. “He and I… have unfinished business.”
Rohan froze. “Who are you?”
The man smirked. “My name is Vikram Raaz. Your grandfather stole something from me—a key. Without it, no one enters the heart of Aaryan. I think you have it now.”
Rohan’s mind raced. The brass pendant his grandfather had given him years ago—it was more than a keepsake. It was the key.
Before Vikram could take it, Meera’s voice echoed from above. “Rohan! Jump!”
She tossed down a rope. Rohan grabbed it and swung himself out of the pit just as a gunshot cracked through the valley. Bullets whizzed past as Rohan and Meera scrambled back to camp.
But Vikram’s voice followed them, calm and cold:
“You can’t hide forever, Kapoor. I’ll be waiting at the gates of Aaryan.”
Breathing heavily, Rohan clutched the pendant in his fist. He knew there was no turning back now. Tomorrow, they would face the jungle, the traps, and Vikram himself.
And somewhere ahead, the Lost City of Aaryan waited—its golden heart still beating after centuries.
To be continued…
