The Echoes Of Past

Karn stood frozen in the courtyard, his fake smile a brittle shield against the storm raging inside him. The sight of those two figures—the girl and the boy—dragged him back into memories he’d fought to forget. His heart clenched, his breath shallow, as if the weight of his past had suddenly landed back on his shoulders. He wasn’t here to reminisce. But memories, especially the painful ones, never asked permission.

Their laughter, faint but familiar, echoed like ghosts in his mind. A time not too long ago, yet worlds away. A time when Karn had been... different.

Back in 7th grade, Karn had been a whirlwind of energy—loud, witty, always the first to make someone laugh. He wasn’t just liked—he was loved. The kind of person teachers remembered, not because of grades, but because he made the classroom feel alive. His tight-knit group of friends had been his everything. Four of them, bound by something deeper than childhood camaraderie: a dream, a shared obsession with secret missions, covert operations, and the idea of being more than ordinary.

There was Kavya—sharp, fiery, and intuitive. She could read Karn’s moods before he even understood them himself. They’d grown up together, neighbors who became inseparable. She was his mirror and his anchor.

Then came Aaryan—bold, charismatic, and fiercely loyal… back then. Karn had always seen Aaryan as a brother, the kind of friend you’d take a punch for without hesitation. He was the strongest among them, physically at least, and carried a confidence that pulled others in like gravity.

And Rohit—quiet, observant, and constantly underestimated. He was the youngest of them, with a mind that soaked up strategy like a sponge. Karn had always treated him like a younger sibling, protective and encouraging.

Together, they were unstoppable—or so they’d believed.

One rainy afternoon, after school, Karn stumbled across a digital whisper. While surfing restricted forums out of curiosity (and a bit of boredom), he discovered a rumor—hidden deep in the darker corners of the web. A secret government initiative training children for espionage and black ops. It sounded like fiction, like something straight out of the novels they passed around under desks. But Karn, even at that age, was no ordinary kid. His skills in hacking were already far beyond what anyone expected of a 13-year-old. And something about the rumor felt real.

He shared it with the group the next day, eyes wide with excitement. They sat huddled in the library’s corner, whispering over an open notebook filled with crude plans and codes. The thrill of it was electric. Within days, they’d found coordinates to a recruitment office, hidden behind layers of encryption only Karn could crack.

But by the time they reached the site—a dusty warehouse on the outskirts of the city—the program had already shut down. No new recruits. Just silence and locked doors.

Disappointment had settled over them like a storm cloud. But while the others sulked, Karn’s mind raced. Why wait for someone else to choose them, he thought. Why not build something of their own?

And so it began.

They trained after school, during weekends, holidays. Using online resources, self-made equipment, and the occasional actual training session from Kavya’s cousin—a martial artist—they began to sharpen their skills. Rohit’s agility, Kavya’s precision, Aaryan’s strength, and Karn’s quiet, uncanny mastery of all things digital—and more than a little physical—merged into a powerful mix.

By 9th grade, they were already doing small field missions. Nothing too dangerous—just tracking local thieves, alerting authorities anonymously, gathering intel on suspicious movements. They wore disguises, used code names, and communicated in ciphers. They called themselves The Phoenix Circle, a nod to rebirth and secrecy.

In just two years, the group grew from four to nine. Word spread in whispers among likeminded teens, and soon, Karn found himself leading a team of passionate, skilled individuals, each with a past, each with something to prove. Leadership had never been his goal, but everyone turned to him. He had vision. He had clarity. And above all, he had built it.

Their exploits eventually caught the attention of someone high up in the military. Officially, the government denied any association with underage operatives. Unofficially, they were impressed. A covert support line was opened—gear, intel, safehouses—all provided in the shadows.

By the time they entered 11th grade, The Phoenix Circle wasn’t just a game. It was real. They were real. A top-secret unit composed of teens, with Karn at the helm.

But then came Ruchika.

She joined during one of their mid-year recruitment drives. Fierce, brilliant, and unapologetically ambitious. Her arrival shifted the dynamic. She wasn’t one to be a follower, and her presence brought a silent challenge to Karn’s position. But he didn’t feel threatened. If anything, he admired her drive.

What he didn’t see coming was her connection with Aaryan.

They clicked instantly—both strong, proud, and powerful. Their chemistry was obvious, and Karn, ever the supportive friend, encouraged it. He believed Ruchika was good for Aaryan, grounding his impulsiveness with her sharp wit. What he failed to notice was how, beneath her smiles, she measured every move, every person.

To Ruchika, power was everything. And while Karn had respect, it was Aaryan who had strength. In her eyes, that made him the rightful leader.

It started with small remarks—"Aaryan, why don’t you lead this mission?" or “Karn’s too soft to make the hard calls.” Slowly, she chipped away at loyalties. And Aaryan, driven by the hunger to prove himself, began to listen.

Karn remained unaware. He still led missions, still received updates, still worked late into the night fine-tuning their strategy systems and encryption protocols. He assumed the silence in the air was just tension before big operations. He didn’t see the storm brewing.

Until it hit.

The coup was swift and cold. A team meeting was called—urgent, unexpected. Karn walked in, met by stiff faces and unreadable expressions.

Ruchika stood first, voice steady. “We need to talk about leadership,” she said.

Karn blinked. “What about it?”

Aaryan stepped forward, arms crossed. “We think it’s time for a change.”

Karn’s smile was still real then, confused but hopeful. “If this is about delegation, I’m fine—”

“No,” Ruchika cut in. “This is about who leads. Who we follow.”

The vote was called. Of ten members, four voted for Karn. Six for Aaryan. Karn didn’t protest. He looked around the room, eyes stopping at Rohit and Kavya, whose expressions were torn but supportive. He nodded quietly. “Okay,” he said. “If that’s what the team wants.”

He stepped back.

But it wasn’t over.

Days later, Ruchika questioned why Karn was still on the team. “We need a hacker who listens,” she said. “Not one who clings to old glories.” She’d brought someone new—Bhupesh, a tech prodigy with a smug grin and a knack for sabotage.

A new vote was called.

Four voted for Karn. Six for Bhupesh.

Then, Aaryan leaned in close to the others, whispering threats. Karn saw Rohit flinch. The boy’s fingers trembled as he changed his vote. A quiet betrayal, heavy with guilt.

Karn didn’t blame him.

But Kavya? Her silence was louder than screams. She didn’t switch sides—but she didn’t defend him either. She simply… stepped back. No vote. No words. Just… nothing.

That was what broke him.

Not the betrayal, but the abandonment. From the person who knew him best.

Aaryan smirked. Ruchika leaned against the wall, victorious. Bhupesh smiled like a vulture.

Karn stood.

His fake smile returned, now perfected. “Thanks for everything,” he said softly, eyes sweeping the room, not settling on anyone. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And then, with no dramatics, no final speech, he turned and walked out.

The air behind him felt heavier than any battlefield. And as he walked away from the team he’d built, the friends he’d loved, the dream he’d birthed from dust—something inside him died.

The boy who’d once dreamed of saving the world had finally learned what it cost.

To Be Continued…