A cold wind whipped through the December air, carrying with it the scent of dust and a growing unease. For five days, Major Vikram had hunted ghosts – a highly trained, terrifyingly silent enemy who had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only the bitter taste of failure. His team was pushed to the brink, their every move countered, their every lead dissolving into nothing. The operation, meant to be swift and decisive, had become a relentless, soul-crushing grind. And as the clock ticked, a chilling realization solidified in Vikram's gut: this wasn't just about training; it was about an enemy who moved with an almost supernatural precision, a group that seemed to anticipate their every desperate move.
