THE MAN OF GOD : THE OMARIYA FOREST

The clock struck 10:00 a.m. at MRC Headquarters, nestled in the heart of Mumbai. Inside the cold, steel-lined walls of the main conference room, the atmosphere was heavy. Scientists, field researchers, and senior operatives sat around a circular table, waiting.

Then the door opened, and Milton walked in.

He didn't say a word at first. He simply placed a data pad on the table, tapped a few commands, and a holographic image shimmered to life above the center of the room — a pulsating, root-like structure wrapped in dark bark and glowing faintly at its edges.

Ometra.

The very name carried weight.

Milton looked up, his eyes scanning the room. "It's been two years," he began, voice steady but clearly frustrated. "Two years since we discovered this… and we still haven't brought back the full specimen."

He tapped again. Images of destroyed camps, failed extraction logs, and empty-handed field teams flickered one by one.

"Five teams have gone into the Omariya Footsteps," he continued, his tone sharpening. "Five... and five have failed. They returned with nothing but fear and broken equipment."

Silence. No one dared to speak.

"This time," Milton said, eyes narrowing, "failure is not an option. Everything must go exactly according to plan. We all know what Ometra is capable of. I don't need to remind you."

With that, the hologram shut off, and the meeting was dismissed.

But Milton remained still for a moment longer, lost in thought. As the room emptied, he sank into the chair, his face shadowed with exhaustion and disappointment.

Ometra.

The root that could change human biology. The key to healing diseases no modern drug could touch. And it was sitting, unreachable, in the depths of a cursed forest.

After a few minutes, Milton turned back to his terminal. He pulled up archived files — specifically, the very first mission logs from when Ometra was first found.

And then… her name appeared on screen.

Riya.

For a moment, he just stared at it.

The woman who'd once stood on the edge of scientific history.

The woman who had lost everything in that forest.Milton leaned back, exhaled, and whispered to himself, "She was there when it all began... maybe she's the only one who can finish it."

He stood abruptly, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the office.

He was going to see her.

Riya woke up to the blinding light filtering through the dusty curtains of her cramped Mumbai apartment. The clock on the wall read 11:00 a.m.

She didn't care. Time had long since lost meaning.

Dragging herself out of bed, she walked to the fridge in the corner of the room. Without a second thought, she pulled out a half-empty bottle of liquor, unscrewed the cap, and took a slow sip.

Her eyes scanned the room — clothes scattered across the floor, books left open on furniture, broken picture frames that hadn't moved in months.

She wandered around silently, aimlessly. This had been her routine for the past two years.

Then came a sound that hadn't echoed in her apartment in months.

A knock at the door.

She froze.

Not another delivery. Not a neighbor. This knock was steady. Purposeful.

She stepped toward the door cautiously.

"Who is it?" she called out.

A familiar voice answered.

"My name is Milton."

The bottle nearly slipped from her hand.

Her expression turned cold.

"Why are you here?" she asked, not bothering to open the door.

"I'm your former head, Riya," the voice said calmly from the other side.

"I left the job. It's been two years, Milton," she snapped.

There was a pause.

"I know. But... I need you now."

Riya let out a bitter laugh. "I'm useless to you now. You should've thought about needing me back then. Please, just leave."

But Milton's voice came again, softer this time.

"Riya... I didn't come to force anything. I came to help you. And to tell you something important."

A long silence followed. Then he added, quietly—

"It's about Virat."

That name hit like a storm.

Riya's hand slowly reached for the latch. She hesitated—then opened the door.

Milton stood there, older than she remembered. A little more worn, a little less confident.

She stepped aside without a word.

They both sat on opposite ends of the worn-out sofa. The silence between them was heavy. Familiar. Haunted.

And slowly, they began to talk.

"You've changed," Milton said, his voice low and quiet.

"I'm fine," Riya replied coldly, not meeting his gaze.

Milton shook his head. "I lost so much because of you…"

"Then why bring it up?" she snapped, her voice laced with pain. "Why now?"

"It's been two years," Milton continued. "And still, no one has been able to go anywhere near that region. Every team we sent has faced danger beyond what we imagined. Four people have died, Riya. And none of their sacrifices brought us any closer."

Riya's eyes filled with rage. "How many more do you want to see die for this? How many more lives?"

"Ometra… it's my dream," Milton said.

"No," she shot back. "It's your selfish obsession."

Milton didn't argue. He looked at her, eyes steady. "Whatever it is… this all started with you. You need to be the one to finish it."

"You're talking nonsense," Riya said bitterly. "I've already lost everything. I have nothing left. Just… let me be."

"But only you know that forest," Milton insisted. "Only you've seen those people. Only you've seen Ometra — with your own eyes."

Her hands clenched into fists. "Because of us, thousands died!" she cried, the guilt choking her words.

She swallowed hard and continued, "We were five when we entered that forest. Three of us never came out. Only two of us survived. And one of them… he died a week later."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"I'm the only one left. Every single day since then, I've lived in hell. That forest… it comes back to me in my dreams, every night."

Milton stepped closer, cautiously. "Then listen to this. The last time we sent a scouting drone, it picked up a video camera left behind. We recovered it. The footage is corrupted, glitched. But… I saw something."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a tablet, showing her a flickering video. Among the static, there were scattered images — a torn shirt, a weathered jacket.

Riya's breath caught. "That's… that's Virat's jacket…"

Milton nodded. "And then — look."

In the footage, a man walked into the cave. His face was obscured, but he had long, unkempt hair and a familiar frame.

"I don't know if it's him," Riya whispered. "But…"

"If there's even a chance," Milton said, "then we can't waste it. We have to go back. And this time… I want you on the team."

She said nothing, her eyes locked on the frozen frame of the man on screen.

"I'm not forcing you," Milton added gently. "But if you want a chance to bring those lost lives some meaning… if you want to find him, and maybe bring him back… then come."

He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her.

"This has everything. Coordinates. Departure dates. Your place on the mission. Take it — if it means anything to you."

Without another word, Milton turned and left.

Riya stared at the envelope in her hands, trembling.

She didn't speak.

But deep inside her, something had shifted.

She was ready.