The Ashes of Shimla

The heavy, suffocating smell of burning pine and gasoline was the first thing that hit Anaya as the taxi screeched to a sudden halt. The narrow, winding lanes of Shimla’s Mall Road were completely choked with thick, swirling gray smoke.

"No, no, no... Grandfather!" Anaya screamed, throwing the taxi door open before the vehicle could even come to a complete stop.

Through the freezing mountain air, giant orange flames were ruthlessly swallowing 'Dinanath’s Antique Horology'—the centuries-old watch shop that had been her entire world. The ancient wooden structure was crackling loudly, collapsing into a pile of black charcoal right before her eyes. Two red fire trucks were parked outside, their bright lights flashing frantically and sirens wailing helplessly against the roaring blaze.

She tried to push her way through the crowd, running directly toward the burning building, but a heavy hand grabbed her upper arm. A police officer violently pulled her back into the safety of the street. "Miss, stop! It’s too dangerous! The entire wooden roof is about to come down!"

"My grandfather is still inside!" Anaya cried out, hot tears blinding her vision as she struggled with all her might against the officer's tight grip. "Let me go! He is the only family I have left in this world!"

"I am sorry, young lady," the officer said, his grip tightening as his voice dropped to a grim whisper. "The fire started too fast. The old man... nobody could have survived an inferno like that."

Anaya collapsed onto her knees. She watched in horror as the place where she had grown up, the place where her grandfather taught her how to fix broken timepieces, turned into ashes.

Two hours later, the fire was finally put out, leaving behind nothing but ruined clock gears, smoking timber, and a crushing silence. The crowd had cleared, and the firefighters were packing up. Anaya sat alone on the cold, damp stone pavement, her trembling hands covered in black soot. Just as hopelessness began to completely consume her mind, her phone buzzed sharply in her denim pocket.

It was a restricted, private number with no caller ID.

Wiping her wet cheeks, she answered with a shaky, breathless voice, "Hello?"

A deep, gravelly male voice spoke coldly from the other end. There was no hesitation in his tone. "Anaya. Listen to me very carefully if you want to stay alive. Do not trust the local police. The precinct chief is already in the mafia's pocket. They are going to declare this fire a short-circuit accident."

Anaya’s breath hitched. "Who... who is this? What do you mean accident? My grandfather—"

"Your grandfather was murdered," the man interrupted sharply, his voice dropping an octave. "And they are looking for what he hid. Move your asset right now. Sneak past the barricade. Go to the kitchen ruins and check the iron safe hidden under the floorboards. What Dinanath left for you is the only shield keeping you alive. Run before they realize you have it."

"Wait! Who are you?!" Anaya gasped, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. But the line went completely dead.

Adrenaline replaced her grief. Wiping her eyes, she looked around. The remaining officers were busy talking near their patrol cars. Moving like a shadow through the thick fog, Anaya sneaked past the yellow police tape and stepped into the warm, smoking ruins of the shop.

She navigated through the charred remains of ancient grandfather clocks, their metal gears melted together like abstract art. Reaching the back area where the kitchen used to be, she knelt down on the hot ash. She dug through the burnt wood with her bare fingers until her nails hit cold, solid steel—the hidden floor safe her grandfather had installed years ago.

To her absolute shock, the heavy dial lock was already turned. It was unlocked.

With a shaking hand, she lifted the heavy steel lid. Inside the safe, protected from the fire, lay only two items.

The first was a heavy, beautifully carved brass pocket watch. It felt ancient and solid in her palm, but when she looked closer, she gasped. The watch had no numbers on its face. Instead, twelve strange, runic symbols were engraved around the golden hands, which were frozen perfectly at 11:45.

The second item was a folded piece of paper. It was a handwritten note from her grandfather, the ink slightly smeared by his aged, trembling hand.

The note read:

'Anaya, my sweet child. If you are reading this, the shadows have finally caught up to me. If this watch ever shows the wrong time, know that your life is in grave danger. Do not look for the truth alone. Take this watch and find Kabir at the old colonial warehouse near the ridge. He is a dangerous man, but he is the only protector you have left now. Trust no one else. The clock is ticking.'

Before Anaya could even process the words, the sound of heavy footsteps crunching on the broken glass outside echoed through the ruins. Two tall men dressed in dark leather jackets stepped into the smoke, their eyes scanning the debris.

They were holding silenced pistols. And they were looking for her.