Yogesh tried to catch that sound. I’m here, he thought.
But the bells continued ringing in their own rhythm.
He approached an elderly man sitting alone on a park bench. There was weariness on his face, and the shadow of some lost past in his eyes. Yogesh thought, Maybe he can sense me. People who are alone are more sensitive. He tried to spread his consciousness around the old man, like a thin ray of sunlight touching an object.
The old man suddenly felt a faint shiver. He looked around.
“Who’s there?” he muttered.
Then he shook his head and smiled. “It’s just old age. I’m starting to have hallucinations.”
A momentary spark of hope rose within Yogesh—but it went out at once. The old man got up and walked away.
He approached a small child walking while holding his mother’s hand. He believed that children could often see what was invisible. He concentrated his aura in front of the child. The child suddenly stopped and stared into empty space. His eyes remained fixed for a few moments.
“Mom,” the child said. “Is someone here?”
His mother laughed and stroked his head. “No, sweetheart. Come on.”
The child looked again—but this time, his gaze passed straight through Yogesh. Then he walked on.
For the first time, a new fear was born inside Yogesh. Not the fear of death—he had already overcome that. This was the fear of oblivion. If no one could see him, if no one could hear him, then did he truly exist at all?
His being was growing a little lighter with every passing moment. It felt as though time itself was devouring him. Every thought was becoming blurred. His memories were fading like ink on an old sheet of paper.
No. He said it within himself. I won’t disappear like this.
A fierce longing rose inside him—to connect with someone. With a single consciousness. Souls could not endure loneliness. They needed memories. They needed a connection.
He drifted toward the outskirts of the city. It was quieter there. The air was cold. The branches of the trees stood still. The moon kept disappearing and reemerging between the clouds. Then he felt a pull—as though an invisible thread were calling to him.
He followed that direction. And then he saw it—an old mansion. Vast and abandoned, with the cracks of time clearly visible across its stone walls. Broken windows, sagging balconies, wild grass growing in the courtyard. There was a strange chill in the air.
A young man lay on the dirt at the edge of the courtyard.
Almost lifeless.
His body was covered in dust. There were marks of injury on his face. His lips were dry. His breathing was so faint that it was difficult to detect.
Yogesh reached him. He sensed that the young man’s soul had not yet fully separated. It was bound by something like a thin thread—on the verge of breaking.
Can you hear me? Yogesh called from within.
A very faint vibration answered him, as though someone were responding from far away.
A broken thought rose from inside the young man. It’s over. Everything’s over.
Yogesh froze. No. Not yet.
A struggle began within him. Was this right? Could he interfere in someone else’s life? But his own consciousness was fading. This was his last chance.
If I do nothing, he thought, I’ll disappear. And he’ll die too.
He gathered his being together, like a lamp focusing its remaining flame. Then he tried to pour himself into the young man.
At first, nothing happened.
Then, suddenly, the young man’s fingers trembled.
A burst of light erupted, as if two rivers had collided.
Yogesh felt himself falling—into a bottomless well. Then, all at once, he felt weight. Pain. Breath. A heartbeat.
It wasn’t his.
He tried to open his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy. His throat was dry. His head was spinning.
A deep breath escaped through his lips.
Am I alive? a voice came from within the young man.
Yogesh realized that he was inside now. But he wasn’t alone. This body wasn’t his. It belonged to Yuvans. Yes—now he knew his name, too. Memories surged up: broken dreams, running away from home, betrayal, anger, despair.
Yuvans’s consciousness trembled within him. Who are you?
Yogesh remained silent. Then he slowly sent back a thought: I’m not your enemy.