He cried out that the Devas had taken everything from him. And from that void, a bitter conviction grew:
"Love, friendship, compassion—they are all lies. Only pain is true. Only loss is eternal."
This became his cruel purpose. He would trap in his illusions anyone who dared to believe in love or trust. His philosophy was a poisoned thorn:
"What I have lost, why should anyone else have?"
As these final, poignant memories played out in his fading consciousness—the sunlight through green leaves, his mother's smile, the scent of wet soil after rain—the life finally left his ruined form. The thorny vines slackened, turning brittle and grey. The embers in his eyes flickered and died, leaving only the hollow reflection of a forgotten prince.
A profound silence fell over the jungle, now free of his torment. Then, from the very air, clear and resonant like a temple bell, a voice echoed—neither male nor female, but pure and ancient:
"You have faced the illusion born of a broken heart. You have passed the test of the Forest of Sorrows."
The voice paused, as if allowing the weight of Vanmayasur's story to settle upon them.
"Your next destination awaits. Prepare yourselves for the halls of reflection and desire."
"Proceed to... the Palace of the Yakshini."
Web of the Illusory Realm
The Yakshini's palms lifted towards the sky, and in a breath, the golden palace began to melt. Walls dissolved into streams of liquid light, flowing like honey before vanishing into mist. The floor beneath their feet lost its solidity, becoming a shifting, nebulous dream-scape, like walking on clouds of forgotten memories.
The air thickened with swirling, glittering motes of golden dust. Each mote was a tiny, perfect prison a captured moment. One held the echo of a child's laughter in a sun-drenched courtyard. Another contained the silhouette of a lover turning away at dusk. A third shimmered with the silent scream of an unfulfilled wish. The very atmosphere was made of nostalgia and heartbreak.
Agni and Neer found themselves standing in a forest that defied reality. The trees had bark that gleamed like polished obsidian, but upon it, pulsing like fresh wounds, were splotches of luminous crimson that wept a faint, glowing sap. The leaves were not green, but beaten gold and fragile silver, and from each leaf-tip, a single, perfect tear-drop of liquid light fell continuously, creating a soft, mournful rain. A haunting melody wove through the air beautiful, yet each note was slightly fractured, the symphony of broken dreams.
---
The Manifestation of Beloved Ones The Emotional Snare
Before Neer—
The golden-dusted air shivered.A form began to coalesce. First, the familiar, worn leather of his father's hunting boots, the scuff on the left toe exactly as he remembered. Then, the white hem of his dhoti, fluttering in a non-existent breeze. Then, a hand the same broad, calloused hand that had held his smaller one, guiding his first sword-stroke.
And then, the face.
His father,King Vyomesh.
He was smiling,a gentle, proud smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. But the smile did not reach beyond the lips. The eyes, though they shone with familiar affection, held no pupils just pools of reflective, empty light.
The Illusory Father:
"Son…why have you wandered so far? I have been waiting for you."
Neer's breath hitched. His throat closed. An involuntary step forward his feet moving of their own accord, pulled by a gravitational force of longing that emanated from the specter. The ground itself seemed to tilt, urging him into that open-armed embrace.
---
Before Agni
The mist parted,revealing not a form, but a sensation first. The familiar scent of jasmine and sandalwood his mother's perfume. Then, the edge of her deep blue sari's pallu, embroidered with silver lotuses. Then, a hand the elegant, gentle hand that had so often smoothed his fevered brow and brushed his hair from his face.
And then, the voice. His mother's voice.
"Agni…you are tired, aren't you? Come… just come home."
But it was too sweet.Too perfectly nurturing. It was every comforting thing she had ever said, synthesized into a single, devastating hook. It lacked the subtle rasp of her true voice, the hidden worry that always lived beneath her love.
Agni's lungs seized. A hot, blurry film of tears clouded his vision. His own hand twitched, yearning to reach out.
---
The Yakshini's Laughter And the Depth of the Illusion
The Yakshini's laughter echoed through the surreal forest a sound like crystal shattering into a sob.
She twirled a finger.
On the face of Neer's father-figure, golden tears began to stream. They fell not as water, but as molten light, each drop hitting the dream-floor and solidifying into a small, circular mirror. And in every mirror, Neer saw not his father, but his own reflection alone, grief-stricken, and lost.
Neer could no longer resist. A broken sound escaped him, and he stumbled forward, breaking into a run, arms outstretched to finally hug the ghost he mourned every day.
But as he collided with the form, it didn't hold him. It dissolved into a cloud of the golden mist, and Neer was left clutching nothing, arms wrapped around empty, cold air, his face a mask of fresh, agonizing loss.
At the same instant, Agni's mother-figure reached out her hand. Agni's own arm began to rise, pulled by a force older than his will.
But his gaze snapped sideways. He saw Neer his strong, composed friend standing frozen, arms empty, looking like a child who had just been shown a treasure and watched it turn to dust.
---
Agni's Struggle — And the Light of the Mantra
Agni gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the perfect, painful vision of his mother. He turned inward, not to the guilt or the rage, but to the core of what he was. The fire that purifies. The fire that reveals truth.
His palms grew searingly hot. Not with destructive heat, but with an intense, focused light. The skin glowed a deep, sun-core red, as if miniature suns were igniting beneath it. He didn't shout; he intoned, his voice vibrating with a power that came from his soul, not his lungs. The words were not mere syllables, but shapes of flame given sound:
"Om Agnaye Namah Maya Bhasma Kar!"
(Salutations to Agni Reduce this illusion to ashes!)
From his outstretched palms, not wild flames, but precise, dancing tendrils of white-gold fire spiraled out. They didn't burn randomly; they sought. They slithered through the air like radiant serpents, finding the threads of the illusionbthe golden dust-motes, the melancholic music, the very texture of the false forest and setting them alight with a clean, consuming light.
Where the flames touched:
The trees with bleeding bark blackened and crisped,revealing rotten wood beneath.
The sweet,fractured music twisted into a sharp, discordant shriek.
The Yakshini's crystalline laughter curdled into a roar of pure fury.
---
The Manifestation of Doubles — The Greatest Fear
The Yakshini screamed, her beautiful form flickering. "So take this! Face your own fears!"
From the dissipating mist, two new forms solidified.
The first was a mirror of Agni but his eyes were pools of utter blackness, not amber flame. Fire wreathed his hands, but it was a sickly, dark purple, leaching the light from the air around it. This was Agni's fear: himself as the destroyer, the patricide, the bringer of only ash.
The second was a reflection of Neer but water did not flow from him. Instead, a viscous, iridescent poison dripped from his fingertips and eyes, sizzling where it fell. This was Neer's fear: his love and compassion turned to toxic, all-consuming bitterness.
These were doppelgangers, but distorted. They looked at each other across the clearing—and with blank, emotionless faces, attacked.
---
The Battle — A Duel of the Soul
The Black Agni lunged at the Poison Neer. Its dark flames didn't burn; they absorbed, drinking the light from the poison and pulling at the very essence of the water-element.
The Poison Neer leapt at the Black Agni.Its toxic drips didn't sizzle; they corroded, smothering the dark flames and turning them into greasy, inert smoke.
The real Agni and Neer stood horrified, watching their deepest insecurities battle each other. Every blow the doubles traded landed not on phantom flesh, but on their very spirits.
When Black Agni struck,the real Agni felt a phantom pain in his own chest the memory of his father's ash.
When Poison Neer attacked,the real Neer's breath caught the echo of his own curse, born from betrayed love.
The Yakshini crowed in triumph. "See! Your own fears will kill each othernand kill what remains of you!"
---
Awakening — And the Light of Unity
Agni tore his eyes from the grim spectacle and looked at the real Neer. He saw the spark of certainty in his friend's eyes guttering, about to be drowned in this nightmare. He couldn't reach the doubles, but he could reach his brother.
He stretched out his hand, not towards the fight, but towards Neer. His voice cut through the psychic din, clear and strong.
"NEER! I am with you! They are not us—they are our fears!"
Neer's gaze, locked on the poison-dripping version of himself, snapped to Agni. He saw the offered hand, the unwavering light in Agni's true eyes. In that connection, he found his anchor.
He didn't take Agni's hand. Instead, he brought his own palms together. From between them, a geyser of pure, clean water erupted not a weapon, but a wellspring. It didn't attack the doubles; it flowed towards Agni's still-burning white-gold flames.
Fire and water met. Instead of hissing negation, they fused. The water became a conduit for the light, the fire a purifier for the flow. Together, they created a brilliant, swirling helix of gold and blue energy a manifestation of trust.
This united energy expanded, enveloping the battling doppelgangers. The Black Agni and Poison Neer didn't explode; they simply unraveled, their forms dissolving back into mist as the purifying light of Agni and Neer's bond negated the isolated fears that created them.
---
The Yakshini's Rage And The Final Struggle
The Yakshini let out a shriek that was pure anguish. "NO! How is this possible?!"
Her beautiful facade shattered. The elegant lines of her body contorted. The gold and jewels melted away, revealing a form that was dark, twisted, like gnarled branches woven into a humanoid shape. She was crying and laughing simultaneously, a terrifying cacophony. "You broke my grandest illusion… Now you will face my RAW WRATH!"
She flung her arms wide. The entire illusory realm the golden dust, the weeping trees, the last remnants of the palace collapsed inward and was swallowed by an absolute, light-devouring darkness. It was a void that pressed on their senses, a darkness that felt alive and hateful.
In that consuming black, Agni and Neer moved instantly. Back-to-back, shoulders touching. Agni's hand blazed with a steady, sun-like flame. Neer's palms glowed with a cool, moonlit radiance from the water he held ready. Their eyes, adjusted to the dark, met for a split second in unspoken agreement.
This was no longer a test of illusion. This was the final, primal fight. And they would face it together.
The golden mist thickened, swallowing the forest whole.
Agni felt the ground beneath his feet lose its weight as if reality itself was peeling away.
Neer staggered beside him, his breath uneven, his reflection splitting again and again inside the swirling haze.
Then
From the mist, a figure stepped forward.
It had Agni's face.
But its eyes were hollow voids, devouring light itself.
From the opposite end, something else emerged—
A distorted version of Neer, smiling without warmth, glass-like shards falling from its skin.
And above them both, echoing through the collapsing world, came a woman's laughter slow, cruel, endless.
"When the heart becomes the battlefield… whom will you strike first?"
The realm sealed shut.
Agni reached for Neer
And Neer's eyes… began to glow gold.