June 15^th, 2036, Yikadi, Feplaria, 10:05 A.M.

The streets were lively. A seemingly endless stream of elves flowed through the streets. The air was familiar, yet alien. There were the usual sounds one would expect to hear in a crowded street: sounds of people laughing, shouting, arguing, haggling. But they were alien. To the young Indian lad who had grown up in the lesser-known parts of Uttar Pradesh, all this felt different.

Yet Major Sharma – or Ilvisar, as he was known to the few elves he met – did not mind this. He might have been known as introverted by the people he knew, but he was certainly not timid. His was an adventurous mind, and in his mind, this was a place full of adventure. Granted, it was nothing like the image of adventure that comes to mind when one thinks of the word.

Ilvisar looked inconspicuous as he walked through the narrow street. To the average bystander, he looked indistinguishable from any other dark elf going about his day. Chocolate-coloured skin, silver-white hair, and a set of completely natural-looking pointed-ears. With the plain white and purple outfit he wore, nobody paid him any heed.

The street was narrow, dusty. Both sides were flanked by buildings made of stone. A variety of overhanging structures were built above the street, connecting both sides of the streets. A unique variety, indeed. Some were walkways build of stone, while others were simply crude walkways that looked like they had clung to whatever structure was before and grown to their full length like a money plant. These were most likely built later, and with comparatively less precision. The web of these low-hanging structures blocked out sunlight from the street, and Ilvisar often saw large groups of elves resting under the shade. Staircases extended on both sides of the streets at routine intervals, though they didn’t seem to be very crowded. From what he could tell, there was little traffic up the overhanging walkways.

This was apparently unusual, according to the history and art ‘nerds’ back home. Or rather, more than unusual, as seeing multi-storeyed buildings in such large numbers is not normal for a society that was alien to the concept of gunpowder. Numerous theories had been thrown, the major had heard, the one that was the most agreed upon was the ‘safe exclusion’ one: that these people had been, due to a combination of a variety of reasons, had been isolated from the outside world and thus all the technological innovations that came with them, but had been relatively safe and abundant enough to develop without much reliance on technological change, to what could be called the earliest stages of industrialization.  

Ilvisar deftly moved through the crowd. His movements were skilled, so much so that for majority of the time, other dark elves didn’t even register him being there. A product of years of experience, perhaps. Then again, the crowds weren’t as thick as many of the places he had been in back home.

Ilvisar didn’t feel fear. He was in another country, amongst other unfamiliar people, in an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar laws. And he was amongst people who would not take very kindly to him should his true identity be revealed, so much so that a death sentence was not impossible here. Few men would have the nerve to not only stay calm in such an environment, but to enjoy the journey.

And he was one of them. This wasn’t the first time he was doing something like this. In his career, he had seen and been to many places. Whether it was the country’s mujahidin-infested neighbourhoods to the north-west, or impoverished towns and cities in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Those places were not any different than here. A hostile, unknown environment, hostile population, the anxiety and fear of what would follow should cover be blown. And it was scary and difficult the first time he did it. Who wouldn’t be? When knowing that just one tiny slip up could mean a very horrible and agonizing end, who wouldn’t? Eventually, however, just like everything, he became used to it, and before he realized it, he was looking forward to missions like these. After all, what was to fear? People weren’t as observant as he had feared when he first began, he had realized, and most were too preoccupied anyway to notice. Not everybody was an intelligence officer out for blood, like a bloodhound. They were just ordinary people, going about their ordinary, unimpressive lives.

Perhaps this realization was the key, the disguised major thought. Once you understood that the people around you were no different than the common men and women you were used to seeing back home, it became a lot more easier.

Then again, that wasn’t the only part. The major could not deny that the thrill of adventure drove him to volunteering for this mission. After all, this was a new world, one that was unknown, unfamiliar, unexplored. One that hadn’t yet been captured and imprisoned between the pages of an encyclopaedia or through the lens of the camera. There was potential here, one that appealed to the latent spirit of manliness hidden inside even the most benign of men, one which drew them towards the promise of thrill and glory. One which appealed to the hidden adventurer deep inside every man.

‘Ilvisar’ observed silently as he walked. Shops tucked inside walls of stone catered to elves of many kinds. Not different from what he had seen back when the first team arrived. Elves with chocolate coloured skin and white hair, dressed in myriad of colours. Sometimes soldiers would be seen, patrolling the streets. Their armour was shiny yet pock-marked with scratches and signs of wear: evidence of their faithful service to their owners. The chest piece was coloured bright purple and white, and at their waists hung sheathed swords.

It had been quite a while since the first team was inserted in this country. The major’s team had successfully embedded themselves in the country, and more teams had followed in. The cave safe house from the before had expanded as the Indians set up shop there, and was now facilitating the insertion of new agents as well as transmitting intelligence back and forth between India and this place. “Point Ruskin” had been the name given to it. Most likely the work of a rather dull, unimaginative officer, thought the major.

The first few days after the insertion were quite busy. Intelligence collection and analysis happened round the clock as the teams built a picture of what they had stepped into. This included verifying the integrity of Point Ruskin to see just how safe it was. Preparations were made for the insertion of more teams, and sectors were assigned to each team, with the assigned sectors getting rotated frequently.

Most of the inserted teams had posed as travellers on a journey with a variety of motivations. Some were ‘poor elves’ on the way home, some were just adventurous souls following whatever path their hearts took them. Certainly, having every team be a bunch of travellers was not very creative, but it was safe. They could easily move around without arousing too much suspicion, and rarely did anybody ask bothersome questions.

There was a lot to learn about this new world, and often ignorance led to some really difficult decisions. The major stopped briefly. On the right side of the street, was a three-storey building, indistinguishable in appearance from others around it. Certainly not a shop. It was a tavern, though not an ordinary one. He could tell now, from the scantily clad female slave standing outside.

It seemed there were two kinds of taverns that catered to the travellers. There was the ordinary kind, then there were the ‘fair taverns’. These were primarily for the males, it seemed. At least no such establishment targeted for women had been reported. Female slaves exclusively picked for their physical beauty were used in these places for a variety of jobs. And that variety included nightly services.

The first time the major’s team encountered a fair tavern, they decided to investigate. They had heard a fair bit about these from verbal exchanges, and the building itself seemed to stand out. So it seemed unreasonable to not enter at the very least. The major noted how unique it was. Almost all of the staff, with the exception of the clerk at the desk, seemed to comprise only of scantily-clad attractive women with thick collars on their necks. Whether it was serving the dishes, washing and wiping the desks, carrying the luggage.

The major had already had some premonition of what it could mean when the clerk vaguely hinted about ‘special services’. Up until that part, the major and his men had only found it amusing, not thinking too much of it. The young blonde they sent to carry their luggage to their room looked so meek and soft it made him feel sorry, and he ended up politely refusing her, telling her to stand aside and mumble in confusion while they carried their stuff.

What they found when they opened the door to their rooms was, to say the least, quite enlightening. Enlightening, because the major finally realized what the clerk meant when he said ‘special service’. There were already four women in the room. Their collars were slightly thicker, and their clothes even more revealing. It had occurred to the major then, that the elves’ sense of ‘eroticism’ was quite refined, and that he should someday have a chat with the tavern owner should amiable relations between India and Feplaria ever blossom in the future.  

In his mind, it was the most awkward and confusing moment he had experienced in this operation. Each one of the men had been confused as to what to do with the women. Refusing them and telling them to go out would obviously seem suspicious and would elicit unnecessary attention. At the same time, there was an obvious hesitation as to keeping these women here.

None of the men were married, he knew, and he was aware how seductive the image of a chained-up maiden was to a man. Especially when the women themselves were attractive. And not just attractive, they were drop-dead gorgeous. In his career in the Indian Special forces, the men had served in a variety of theatres, and seen and interacted with many kinds of people. The major had seen tribals and village girls with such beauty that could certainly best those in beauty magazines in even Hollywood or Bollywood

Yet the ones here were on an entirely different level. Blonde hair, blue eyes, an almost doll-like face. These didn’t even look real, in the major’s eyes. They looked as if someone had magically brought to life a character from a gifted painter’s masterpiece. It wasn’t impossible when one took magic into account; what if they actually were just uncannily realistic dolls?

Regardless, while the image of such a beauty with almost see-through dresses and thick metal collars would ignite the brute inside any man, these men knew better. Contrary to popular belief, men weren’t brutes who only preyed on women all the time; that was for certain occasions only, and that too with consent and under the veil of privacy. And these were above others. Restraint reigned supreme, and they ended up simply requesting the women to massage their tired limbs.

It had been quite useful for the team, the major had realized then. Little work happened during those two days, but it was not bad. No one realized how badly they needed the rest until they sat down in front of the women. The major was also relieved to find the women complying with the request, albeit a little confused. There didn’t seem to be any trace of sorrow in their demeanour, he had noted, as he had seen in the ones rescued from the island invasion. Human resilience never failed to surprise him.

Ilvisar’s feet stopped. There was a commotion up ahead. The path ahead opened into a much wider road. A crowd was gathering there. Something worth was happening, something notable.

Ilvisar cast a look around. As expected. In places like these where people had little reason to retreat in their rooms, the smell of something interesting and out of the monotonic events of life was irresistible. Understandably, there were the expected characters one would expect to see in such a scenario: the eternally aloof that were too occupied with themselves, overshadowed by the majority of the concerned and interested. Among these there were further distinctions; those that had just been enlightened to the existence of such an event, and those who had already seen it and were now delivering their own opinion on it as if it were a law of nature.

Ilvisar strained his ears. One of the elves near him was talking to his friends rather excitedly. The contents of the conversation were easy to make out. The major watched as the dark elf boy dragged his friends away towards the crowd.

It didn’t seem anything negative. At least, it didn’t seem like something bad had occurred, such as an accident. ‘Nothing negative’ might be a bit too much, the major concluded, from what he had seen of these ‘pointy-ears’, though.

The major looked around. The crowd was thick. The area around the intersection was flooded with ‘pointy-ears’. Heads bobbed around as the elves jostled together, and many shades of grey and white hair seemed to heave to and fro as the people pushed each other, eager to see whatever had piqued their interest so much.

No good, he thought. Going through the crowd was going to be difficult. He would have to find another way. Looking around, he saw the stairs leading to the upper platform. It seemed the stairs led to a balcony of sorts that ran all the way around the adjacent buildings, and in all probability overlooked the intersection ahead.

The major turned, and began walking. The balcony wasn’t devoid of elves either, but it was much less crowded, and much better than trying to push his way through the sea of elves ahead.

Nobody noticed him. His steps were quick and deft, and stealth came almost naturally to him now. Yet his pace was nowhere near slow, and within a few minutes he was in an open spot on the balcony, overlooking the scene silently.

A car. The major blinked twice, in surprise. The elves around him spoke in awe and excitement as he stared on. It was a car, no doubt. It looked ancient – and goofy – by the looks of it. Well, the goofy part was just his own opinion.

What he was sure about was that the car was ancient. The tyres looked thin, almost as thin as the tyres on a bike. The body was box-shaped and red in colour, though it was decorated with almost esoteric-looking patterns and paintings. The radiator and the large, bulging headlights further sold the car’s age, and from his position, he could see the car’s open interior, and the antique-looking dashboard and the steering wheel.

His eyes immediately caught a few odd figures standing near the car. Blonde hair, almost completely white skin, and the same long, pointed-ears as their dark elf comrades. Their long red robes looked ceremonial, and the major wondered how they managed to move around in such heavy outfits.

They seemed to be milling about the car, clearly uncomfortable about the gazes they were getting from the crowd. Two of them were crouching beside the hood of the vehicle. The car had broken down, from the looks of it, and they were trying to get it up and running again. Several of these blonde elves were standing stoically in a perimeter around the vehicle. Guards, the major thought.

There were other vehicles behind and ahead of the car, obscured from view by the narrowly-packed buildings. The major realized it was a convoy heading somewhere, and by the looks of it, they all were stopped still with their engines turned off.

These odd-looking elves had been one of the primary objects of interest for the Indian team, for obvious reasons. Everything about them smelled suspicious. It was clear they were just slightly clever blokes using cheap tricks to fool their unassuming chocolate-coloured brethren. What was not clear, was why.

The major studied the group down below. The blonde ‘pointy-ears’ looked visibly irritated. The crowd of poor, unimaginative dark elves around them oozed with curiosity. Obviously, something like a car was a novelty to them, along with the important-looking elves around them. Their curious gazes must have probably felt like a thousand needles to the blonde elves.

It seemed……nostalgic. A forgotten memory surface in the major’s mind. It was from when he was still in his childhood, during one of his trips to his father’s home village. It was in the early 2000s, and back then cars were an exotic novelty in some really far-off villages of the country, unlike now. Only the grown ups who had been to the city had seen them, but rarely anyone owned one. So when his father returned from the city on leave from his job in the state government, his car was one of the topics of talk that day. The major remembered arriving there, when the car slowly passed through the narrow village roads. He could almost see the village children running alongside it once again, as he briefly relived the memory…….

The major smiled. That was such an old memory, all those years ago. It had been more than three decades since then, and yet somehow he could feel – and see – it with such clarity. This was perhaps the best part about exploring and adventuring: one never knew what one might discover in this dim corner of the world. The major made a point that if he made it long enough to go home, he would mention this to his father.

“….are these karz headed to..?”

“….found one…..those ruins….”

The major snapped back to reality. His ears picked up something. He hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation around him too much, since most of it was the locals babbling about what they thought the ‘sacred carriage with its peculiar face’ was, or many permutations of it. But among the loud chatter, he picked up something more.

“…..there’s, uhh……….just up yonder near the sea, that is where they…..”

“……are they exorcising, demons or something…..”

‘Ilvisar’ felt hearing more laughter melt into the chatter around him. It didn’t matter. The unassuming, illiterate elves around him had just unwittingly, given him an invaluable clue as to the convoy’s destination.

Silently, just as he had appeared, the major disappeared from the crowded balcony. It seemed interesting. He might as well check it out. He just hoped that he would be able to reach the truth before the ‘blonde-ears’ managed to repair their car.

 

 

 

 

 

June 16^th, 2036, off the western coast of Feplaria

‘Ilvisar’ scanned the area. They were in an opening in the forest, on a small hill. The faint, salty smell of the sea merged with the damp, cool air of the forest around him. In the west, the vast sea stretched out in the distance, obscured by the thick vegetation. From his spot, the coast was not directly visible, but the major figured it was probably within a day’s walking distance.

“We’re getting close?” Another operator asked. The man was lower in rank and had the same, almost-identical disguise as the major: of an ‘ordinary, unassuming’ dark elf traveller on some journey of personal importance. Except that here, both of the ‘elves’ were openly armed with carbines held close to their bodies.

“Think so. Standby.” The major replied as he fished for something in his loose cloth bag. Both crouched low near a boulder as the major pulled out a mobile phone and began fiddling with it. It was a specially-modified phone, provided with a thick grey rugged cover and reinforced touch-screen. The internals were modified too; all the unnecessary systems and apps had been removed and replaced only with the most vital of tools.

Ordinarily, such a thing wouldn’t be a part of their loadout when travelling through populated areas. But this was a little different. The team had decided they won’t be passing through any populated settlement at all and instead, directly traverse through the forest during daytime. As such, they could take a little liberty in their loadout and carry any extra bit of assistance they may need.

It was a risky move, for exactly what resided here in these forests was not known entirely. Aerial reconnaissance showed there were almost no signs of civilization, but few people trusted aerial recon at face value in situations like this. As such, caution was important.

The major fiddled with the phone. Panning in and out with his fingers, he studied the topographic map that had been generated. The map wasn’t completely accurate, the major had come to realize from the journey so far, so any assumption he made would have to be taken with a grain of salt.

All these ‘cool gadgets’ were still new to the team. Everybody had realized that, given the unusual circumstances the operatives would find themselves in, their best bet was using their technological advantage to whatever extent they could. That meant directly testing many experimental things that had not even left the drawing board yet.

The mapping software on the tactical phone, for instance, was one such oddity. The phone was directly connected to a secure network all the way to Point Ruskin, where they could link almost directly with Indian Navy or even Air Force assets. Recon support could be requested, either from UAVs operating off any Indian carrier in the vicinity, or any Air Force or ISRO asset active and cleared for operation in the area of operations. Or they could simply even have other agents manually enter topographic data in the app directly from their terminals, which could be as simple as a plain text paragraph describing a particular area or point. Once the data was entered, an AI analysed and evaluated it, and used it to create as accurate a map as the AI could, including a three-dimensional scan of the terrain.

For this mission, a few Ghataks had been called in, which were operating off the INS Vishal. The Navy flyboys were more than happy, it seemed, to have been able to take their little toy planes out for a ride. The Ghataks had stayed up almost all night the previous day mapping the area, and by daybreak everybody had the required mapping data on their rugged phones.

“Okay, Jain? Come here, see this.” The major whispered as he kept his weapon on ready in one hand. He had seen enough in his tenure in the special forces to know that moments of peace and rest like this were prime targets for fate to play out its tragic pranks. And he’d had enough of them to never loosen the grip on his gun.

“Yeah?”

“See this? New data we didn’t see before, certainly not this morning. Good thing we called another recon pass.”

“What does it show?”

“Here.” The major tilted his rugged phone as Jain settled down in a good position among the rocks, confident that should the need arise, he would be able to return fire fairly well. “see where the road goes? And see how wide it looks?”

“It could just be an error.”

“It’s too uniform for that. It looks way too natural for an error. And one more thing….here, see this? The road has been cut through the terrain….see how clean the cut in the rocks is?”

“Reminds of that one time I was in Uttarakhand. Looks like they got heavy equipment.”

“Except there isn’t any here.” Major Sharma stowed away the rugged phone. “Well, we’re getting somewhere exciting now.”

“How far’s the search area?”

“There are two smaller hills between us before where the road completely ends.” The major suppressed a groan. It didn’t matter whether you were from the best units the country could ever hope to produce, a true ‘king among men’, you still had to do boring and unexciting things like trudging through a forest. Granted, the journey was nowhere near as back-breaking as some of the missions in Kashmir or during his time in Africa, and neither of the men was having trouble catching his breath. In fact, the major was sure they had walked at least a hundred and fifty kilometres non-stop, and yet he felt as fresh as waking up after a goodnight’s sleep.

So far, the journey had been mostly uneventful. The team composition involved multiple two-man teams moving north-west independent of each other so as to comb a large area. Whatever it was the ‘blond-ears’ were searching for, it was forgotten and hidden enough to not show up directly on recon. The only clue anything was out there was near the coast, where the rocks suddenly rose up from the sandy beach, beyond which data could not be retrieved. Considering that otherwise, neither the drone nor the software had little trouble generating terrain data, that area seemed the only suspect so far.

The major checked his watch. It was fifteen minutes past ten. Like the rugged phone from before, it too was an anomaly that would normally not be seen on their persons.

“Let’s move up. So far, we’re ahead of schedule, and I prefer keeping it that way.”

 

 

 

“GroundDove-1 to GroundDove-Actual, do you copy, over.” The major spoke quietly on the radio. Both he and his buddy lay prone underneath the bushes and the thick forest grass. They had luckily found a good spot; there was ample concealment, and their height advantage gave them a good view ahead.

They were positioned on the crest of a small hill. The coast was now closer, and the salty sea breeze now gently brushed the trees and shook the smaller plants. The sound of waves rolling over the coast now joined the melody in the background, melting in harmoniously within the sound of leaves rustling and birds chirping.

The scene was…boring. For the major and his buddy, who had spent almost years serving in Kashmir and who, in their time in service there, had been enlightened as to why people chose to call the Kashmir valley as the ‘Switzerland of India’, this forest seemed bland and tasteless in comparison. It had some aesthetic value, no doubt, but against the vast valleys and snow-capped peaks painted above the horizon in the background that could bring out the romantic from within even the dullest of men, it was simply tasteless, grey, dull.

But most of all, it was simply disappointing. The night the major had arrived, he remembered hearing all sorts of sounds of animals he had never heard before. He had operated in forests long enough to be able to tell what kind of wild beast was out there, and he knew by instinct that here was nothing like he had seen before, but rather something entirely new. And so, he had concealed the excitement to be able to come across some exotic creature in the wild.

Yet there was none. Neither the ‘land dragons’ nor the ‘wyverns’ he had seen before were to be found here. Granted, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Locals had said these were specially bred in captivity by some mages, and were found in certain in certain regions only. Apparently, this part of the country wasn’t one of them.

Yet, a part of him secretly hoped he would come across at least one or two of these monsters. They were simply cool, after all; there are not that many things in this world, apart from armoured vehicles, combat aircraft and large warships, that tickle a man’s fantasy the same way riding a fire-breathing dinosaur into battle does. Perhaps, the major had mused, this was the driving force behind all those old pictures of maharajas posing with their pet tigers or leopards, or of Jim Corbett posing with his trophy, the body of the ‘Bachelor of Powalgarh’.

“GroundDove-1, this is GroundDove-Actual, we hear you loud and clear, over.”

“GroundDove-Actual, we’ve entered the search area, we may have something, over.”

“Standby, GroundDove-1……GroundDove-1, what do you see?”

“Uhh,” the major picked up his binoculars. “looks like a wall, a big one. Its covered, though. Can’t tell anything.”

“Affirmative, GroundDove-1, continue searching and report anything you see, over.”

“Wilco, GroundDove-Actual.”

The major put the handset down. Beside him, his buddy lay prone. His carbine, a JVPC chambered in 5.56x30mm, lay in front of him, clutched tightly within his hands. They had finally entered the search area, and thankfully, had stumbled across something that looked important right away, rather than having to comb the entire area thoroughly.

It was a wall. It looked like one. The only thing distinguishable was the rough shape of a wall jutting out of the ground at a height of about almost fifteen to twenty metres, at an angle too steep for it to be natural.

But that was it. The wall was very well camouflaged, the major had to admit. An extremely thick layer of foliage covered it, almost like a blanket of green. The layer was thick, almost foot or two, and its thickness varied in some places, which created depressions and crests in the foliage layer, breaking up the rather straight and easily-recognizable outline of a wall. Dense overgrowth obscured the base of the wall, making it harder to discern.

The major had no doubts that magic had had part to play here; the camouflage seemed very natural, as if blending into the surrounding foliage and grass. The plants and vines covering the wall seemed as if they had naturally sprouted there, and numerous tiny flowers of various different colours populated the vines and the bushes, fluttering and waving in the breeze alongside the leaves.

Up close, it seemed basic and simple. Yet, its effectiveness was not lost on the major. The camouflage did its job damn well. In this forest of tiny rolling hills and dense forests, the wall was practically invisible. If it hadn’t been for the anomaly detected during aerial reconnaissance, the wall would have completely slipped undetected.

The major scanned the wall. From his estimates, the wall stretched around four kilometres further west before it turned north, as indicated by the 3-D maps. By this time, the rest of the two-man teams would be coming up to the wall too.

Surprisingly, they had little issues with radio connectivity in these forests. The team had expected the hills to be a hindrance for radio communication. As such, throughout their journey, every team had planted spider relays on top of trees. These were simple, tiny communication relays powered by solar panels that were arranged in their entire assembly in the form of spider webs made of strong polymer wires, which were packed in tiny cannisters. These cannisters were packed in single-use guns that fired using air pressure, projecting the cannister upwards and releasing its payload, where the spider relay would unfurl and get tangled nicely up on a tree, and begin transmitting. A simple, cheap yet handy invention, probably a brainchild of some desperate IIT grad looking for some source of quick cash and an excuse for starting a startup.

The relays proved quite useful, and there were little problems with communications. Radio silence was maintained, being broken only when needed. The major had heard the rest of the teams report their progress. They were now in the search area too, and had begun converging on the anomalous wall from multiple different directions.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t wanna go there.” Jain replied. His eyes were fixed on the wall, too occupied to focus on anything else.

“Same.” The major rifled through his bag. The real issue with these bags was their carrying capacity. They were good for sneaking into settlements, but here they were only a pain. It didn’t help that the disguises didn’t have much pockets to stuff extra magazines or equipment in.

“It looks deserted. I don’t see anyone. For now, at least.”

“For now. What if they got some magic thing going on?”

“I don’t know, maybe shoot them?”

“Very useful advice.” Both got up on their feet, their carbines on low ready. “We don’t know any entrance, do we?”

“No. The wall seems to continue on with no openings whatsoever. Nothing like a gate or anything.”

“Was this a fort? Would make some sense if they were barricading themselves against something, but even then forts have some sort of entrance and exit. Probably there’s a secret entrance somewhere?”

“Only one way to find out.”

The pair began moving. The undergrowth became thicker as the two trudged on. The barrels of their carbines waved around, as both kept security as they moved. Things were a lot more tense now. They were in the search area, and there was a chance they might not be alone. Apart from the bunch of ‘blond-ears’ already coming to the party, of course..

The two were now standing almost directly in front of the wall. The undergrowth was now very thick, and the bushes were large enough to reach their waist. It was hard to walk around. The duo had to watch where they were putting their foot.

“Shit. Look at this…. See how thick this foliage cover is? Hey Bhagwan…” The major groaned as he touched the wall, disappointed at the prospect of having to clear all this foliage just to clear a spot.

Something happened. A low hum arose. The wall began to glow. At first, weakly. In the blink of an eye, however, it intensified.

Instinctively, the major pulled back. In a flash, the carbines were up. The lasers were on, so were the holographic sights.

“Shit..” The major cursed. Quick, deft steps, crushing twigs and plants below. The duo reversed, all the way back to their previous cover. The fat, yet sleek, black carbines remained stoic and indiscriminate. Their job was to spew lead gracefully, and they were damn good at it.

The whole wall was glowing. It was bright. The major squinted his eyes as he pulled out his handset. There was already radio chatter about it.

“GroundDove-1 to GroundDove-Actual, we’ve found the anomaly, we don’t know what jus--” He stopped.

The glow was gone. The low hum had subsided. The major suppressed a gasp.

“GroundDove-Actual, this GroundDove-1, you need to see this.”