The Dive Into || Thrilling Drama || Episode 02

The night was a veil of ink, the jungle an endless labyrinth of shadows, and the moment itself—a cruel, unfathomable riddle. A suffocating weight bore down on me, unseen hands clutching at my very essence, inflicting a torment I couldn’t name. Pain coiled through my body like molten steel, anger seethed beneath my skin, and silent tears etched burning trails down my cheeks.

Helpless. Lost. Unmoored.

I grasped at the fragments of my reality, desperate to make sense of them, but reason was a fleeting ghost. Sleep crept upon me like an unseen predator, relentless and inescapable, dragging me into the abyss.

Then—memories unraveled like a forgotten reel of film, flickering across the screen of my mind.

Laughter echoing in sunlit streets. The untamed fire of youth. The warmth of my wife’s embrace, the tiny hands of my children curled around my fingers, the burdens of a life I had built—now unraveling, slipping through my grasp like sand in a storm.

And then—

I awoke.

Dawn had spilled its golden fire upon the jungle, light piercing through dense emerald canopies, dappling the damp earth with molten radiance. The air was alive with the murmurs of unseen creatures, the hushed symphony of birds casting an illusion of serenity.

But peace was a lie.

I felt it before I understood it—a heaviness in my chest, an unshakable wrongness crawling through my bones. My breath hitched as I forced my battered body upright. Pain bloomed in my limbs, sharp and unforgiving. My legs throbbed—wounds, raw and bleeding.

And I—

I was bare. Stripped of everything.

But the horror had only just begun.

As I looked down at myself, the breath in my lungs turned to ice.

The hardened lines of my body had dissolved, reshaped into something unfamiliar. My skin—once roughened by time and toil—was now smooth as polished pearl, glowing faintly beneath the morning sun. Silken hair, impossibly long, tumbled over my shoulders in cascades of silver and gold. My fingers, once strong and calloused, were now slender, delicate.

A stranger.

No—me.

A visceral, bone-deep panic tore through me. My pulse pounded, my thoughts a cyclone of chaos. Was I dead? Had I crossed into some unknown realm?

No. No, that couldn’t be.

Then my gaze snagged on something—a scrap of familiarity in the madness.

My clothes.

Blue jeans. A yellow T-shirt.

The same ones I had worn before.

A shuddering breath clawed its way free from my lips. I hadn’t died. No, this was something far worse. People do not simply wake up in another body after death.

And then—like a bolt of lightning—memory struck.

My car.

Yes. I had plunged into the river.

Where was it now?

A spark of desperate hope ignited within me. If the river had been my passage here, perhaps it was also my way back.

Without hesitation, I snatched up my clothes and sprinted toward the water, my heart a wild drumbeat in my chest.

The river stretched before me, dark and fathomless, its surface a glistening mirror of liquid obsidian.

I took a breath—

And leapt.

Cold seized me, a thousand icy knives plunging into my skin. I dove deep, searching for something—anything—that would pull me back. But the moment never came. No shift. No awakening. Just suffocating darkness, water pressing against my lungs, the sharp sting of reality refusing to break.

I was still here.

Gasping, I surged upward, breaking the surface with a strangled breath. My hands trembled as I pushed wet strands of hair from my face. And then—

I saw it.

A reflection gazed back at me. A stranger. A phantom. A vision of haunting, unnatural beauty.

She was tall, regal, ethereal. Power curled beneath soft curves, strength hidden behind a veneer of delicacy. Her skin, pale as moonlight, shimmered faintly in the golden dawn.

She was me.

For a fleeting instant, I was ensnared by my own reflection, a strange, inexplicable fascination blooming in my chest. A pull—subtle, unnerving.

Then the memory slammed into me like a blade to the gut.

The man. The one on the horse.

The one who had saved me from the cheetah.

What had he said to me?

A slow, molten fury ignited within me. He had wronged me—I knew it with a certainty that burned through my veins. But the more I clawed at the details, the further they slipped from my grasp.

With a strangled cry, I struck the water, sending ripples distorting my stolen face.

Nothing made sense.

Nothing.

But I would not surrender.

I would not remain trapped in this waking nightmare.

Drenched and unbroken, I turned my back on the river, dressed myself, and faced the vast, merciless wilderness before me.

I would return.

No matter what it took.

I kept walking towards the jungle, my mind consumed with thoughts of my family. They must have been searching for me, wondering where I had disappeared. How long had I been wandering? Time felt meaningless in this strange place, but I knew one thing—I needed to return as soon as possible.

My name is Haider Ali, a police inspector. It was an honorable job, but before joining the force, I had served as a captain in the army. Seven years on the frontlines, stationed at the borders, had sharpened my instincts. I had faced enemies countless times—fearless, intelligent, and sharp as a blade. I knew how to trap my foes and, more importantly, how to escape from theirs. Even after transitioning to the police, my encounters with criminals had never rattled me. Yet now, here I was, lost in a world beyond my understanding.

The deeper I ventured into the jungle, the denser it became. The trees loomed over me like silent sentinels, their thick canopies blocking the sunlight. The air was humid, thick with the scent of damp earth and unfamiliar flora. Every step sent leaves crackling beneath my boots, the only sound in the eerie stillness. The path I had followed earlier had vanished, swallowed by the wilderness, heightening my unease.

Then, a thought struck me—perhaps I should return to the place where I had drowned. Maybe if I dived into the water there again, it would act as a portal, pulling me back home. But where was that place?

I recalled the man with the horse—the one who had brought me here. We had traveled for hours before reaching this spot, which meant that the river I had emerged from was far away. But there was a clue. The water had been flowing in a particular direction. If I walked against the current, I might find my way back.

With renewed determination, I pressed forward, following the river’s course. The journey was grueling. The relentless sun beat down whenever the foliage parted, and my body screamed for rest. My throat was parched, my limbs heavy. Hours passed, but there was no sign of the place I sought.

Exhausted, I finally sat down, my back against a thick tree trunk. My eyes fluttered shut for just a moment when a sudden rustling of leaves jolted me awake. Instinct kicked in. I shot to my feet, my senses on high alert.

Two men stood before me, their dark eyes locked onto mine. They were armed—not with pistols or rifles, but with swords, daggers, and bows. Their expressions were unreadable, but their stance made one thing clear—they were ready to attack.

They spoke in a language I couldn’t understand, their guttural voices thick with menace. Their skin was dark, their features sharp, resembling African tribesmen. They circled me like predators sizing up their prey.

One of them lunged, reaching for me. In a flash, I pivoted and drove my boot into his chest. He flew backward, landing with a pained grunt. The second man immediately drew his sword, eyes narrowing as he charged. I barely dodged in time. Now both of them attacked together, their movements swift and ruthless.

But I was no ordinary man. Years of combat had honed me into a warrior. I anticipated their strikes, countering with precise movements. The fight was intense, my adrenaline surging with every clash. Then, in a swift maneuver, I disarmed one of them, seizing his sword. Now, the battle had changed.

Their expressions shifted—from arrogance to uncertainty. They had underestimated me.

One of them faltered, and in that moment, his comrade swung recklessly. I sidestepped, and the blade meant for me sank deep into his companion’s chest. A choked gasp escaped him before he crumpled to the ground.

Only one remained. Our duel was fierce, blades clashing in a deadly rhythm. Just as I prepared for the final strike, pain exploded in my leg.

An arrow.

A cry tore from my throat as my knee buckled. Before I could recover, hooves thundered against the earth. Two horsemen rode toward me at full speed, a net unfurling between them.

I tried to move, but the net encased me before I could react. The ropes tightened around my limbs, my sword slipping from my grasp. Trapped.

I struggled, but it was no use. My vision blurred with pain and exhaustion as the riders dragged me away.

Where were they taking me? And who were they?

One thing was certain—my journey was far from over.

Previous Episode

Hi dear readers,

How did you feel about the first episode of The Dive Into? The mysterious riverbank, the disoriented lone figure, and the eerie fog—did they pull you into the mystery? I hope it left you wondering: What’s hidden beneath the surface of this river? What secrets does it hold?

As the story begins to unfold, the line between time and identity blurs. But this is only the start. The adventure is just beginning, and I can’t wait to dive deeper into the unknown with you.

What do you think will happen next? Will the lone figure uncover the truth, or is something even darker lurking beneath the surface? I’d love to hear your thoughts—comment below, share your theories, and don’t forget to share this journey with your friends. The best is yet to come, and I want to know if you’re ready for the next chapter!