Chapter 1- The Beginning
Bangalore, India
The IT hub bustled with night shift employees, freelancers, and corporate workers racing against deadlines. Inside one of the offices, a woman lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly before opening a window to ease the humidity. A cool breeze swept in, sending a chill down her spine. Nearby, her colleague was engrossed in a video of climatologist Dr. Venkat Narayan, who spoke gravely about an approaching storm. She dismissed it and turned away, unaware of the growing menace outside.
The breeze intensified, turning into an unsettling wind. Across the city, Venkat hurriedly sealed his windows and doors, his face tense with fear. Crossing out "Cool Breeze" and "Windy" from his list, he muttered under his breath, "Deva Narayana, help them..."
The next morning, chaos unfolded. Police, media, and medical personnel swarmed the IT hub. Inspector Bala surveyed the scene, his face etched with confusion.
"What happened here?" he asked.
A constable approached, his face pale. "Sir, we only found clothes… with blood stains. No bodies."
Bala frowned. "Mass kidnappings? This scale is unheard of."
Disguised as a cameraman, one of Venkat’s informants discreetly recorded the scene, sending footage to his mentor. As Bala moved deeper inside the building, a muffled cry reached his ears. Gun drawn, he kicked open a door. The woman from last night sat trembling, eyes red from crying.
He handed her a glass of water. "Tell me what happened."
She shivered. "I was working when the wind picked up… Then I heard screams. I looked outside—security was gone. Only their clothes and walkie-talkies remained. More screams followed, and then—"
"They turned to dust?" Bala finished her sentence, his voice low.
Laughter erupted from his colleagues. "Sir, sounds like these IT folks binge-watch too many OTT series. Next, they'll say aliens did it!"
Bala clenched his jaw. "Then explain the empty clothes and phones!"
The skepticism lingered as Venkat, at his home, whispered, "One hour left..."
He recorded another warning video, but in the city’s frantic routine, it went unnoticed. His wife sighed. "No one's listening."
That evening, Bala locked his doors tightly. Meanwhile, the woman was taken to the hospital. As they arrived, the same eerie breeze brushed past them. Terrified, she screamed at the staff, "Get inside! Close the doors!"
The nurses chuckled—until the storm arrived.
Hours later, Bala’s phone rang. His face went white. "What?!"
The entire police unit guarding the IT hub had vanished. Only their uniforms, weapons, and cameras remained. Venkat’s informant was gone too. With no time to waste, Venkat uploaded the shocking images online, tagging the Prime Minister’s Office and global climate agencies.
Pune, Maharashtra
Sanju Gaikwad, a determined CA aspirant, was preparing for his final exam the next day. Before leaving for a wedding, he glanced at his notes. His brother Vicky, a software developer, was already getting ready. Sanju’s phone buzzed—it was his wife, Meera, six months pregnant.
"After your exam, we’ll celebrate," she smiled.
"Only if I pass," he teased.
"You’ve worked hard. That’s all that matters," she reassured him. They picked up their friends, Rahul and Mona, and headed to the wedding, oblivious to the storm brewing miles away.
The next morning, Sanju arrived at the exam hall. As he sat down, the winds howled outside, rattling the windows. Venkat, far away, murmured, "It has begun."
During the exam, students ignored the weather, focused on solving their papers. But when the final bell rang, commotion erupted.
"The guards are missing!" someone yelled.
Sanju and his friend Samarth rushed outside. Crashed cars littered the road. A security camera replayed chilling footage—guards closing the gates, only to be swallowed by an invisible force, leaving behind blood-stained clothes.
Sanju’s heart pounded. He dialed Meera. No answer.
He called home. Silence.
"No one’s picking up!" Samarth said, panic creeping into his voice.
Sanju sprinted outside. The once-busy lanes were eerily empty. His blood ran cold. “Where is everyone?”
A student gasped, "My friend in Bangalore saw the same thing... They're all dead!"
Sanju refused to believe it. He and Samarth raced to Meera’s house. No one was there. The security footage showed Meera sculpting, her father watering plants—then suddenly, they vanished.
Sanju fell to his knees, clutching Meera’s dress, now an empty relic of her presence. Nearby, another survivor sobbed. Samarth hurried home—only to find it empty, too.
Sanju reached his own home, only to find his mother’s clothes near the temple. He staggered to the bathroom and broke down, retching between sobs. His phone buzzed—Rahul.
"Sanju?" Rahul’s voice cracked.
Through his tears, Sanju whispered, "They’re gone… Meera, Aai, Vicky… everyone’s gone."
Rahul sobbed. "I saw Vikram vanish in front of me… The storm got him."
Time blurred. Sanju sat numbly at home, haunted by memories. His first meeting with Meera at a corporate party. His mother’s warm laughter. Vikram’s teasing. All gone.
As night fell, Sanju locked every window and door, taping them shut. He rode to Rahul’s society, where survivors huddled, shell-shocked. The whole Gaikwad family was gone.
A young boy showed them viral footage of Bangalore’s disaster. Recognition dawned in Sanju’s eyes. "Venkat Narayan."
He dialed. "Venkat sir?"
Venkat’s voice was grim. "The storm… It’s an acidic wind. It disintegrates people, leaving only their clothes. It started from Antarctica and Alaska, killing wildlife and research teams before expanding."
Rahul asked, "Can we stop it?"
Venkat sighed. "We don’t know. The government ignored my warnings. It grows stronger, targeting gatherings. We can't even predict when it strikes. Close your doors, seal everything. Exhaust fans facing outward slow it down. Warn everyone."
The call ended.
Sanju wiped his tears, grabbed a megaphone, and addressed the crowd. "This is worse than COVID-19. It’s here to kill. Close your doors and windows. Tape them shut. Spread the message. Save whoever you can."
Videos of his warning flooded social media. Survivors took action, sending messages to loved ones. Samarth returned, devastated—his family was gone. Sanju invited him inside.
Before locking up, Sanju noticed movement near a hotel. "Hey! Get inside!" he shouted.
The man hesitated, sobbing. Sanju grabbed him and dragged him inside, sealing the door. The storm struck.
Venkat whispered, "Some will survive tonight... but for how long?"
At the Prime Minister’s Office, urgency filled the air. Roy Mathur, the PM’s assistant, studied Pune’s reports. "I need Dr. Venkat on call as soon as the storm clears."