The night did not just fall; it devoured. Darkness spread like a living stain across the jungle, swallowing the light.
A convoy of military trucks lumbered over the unpaved, treacherous roads, carrying a grim cargo—soldiers and civilians, broken and bleeding from the village. The surrounding jungle was alive with a cacophony of malice; crows, ravens, and unseen beasts screamed into the void.
Suddenly, the lead truck screeched to a halt. The driver, a hardened soldier, froze, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel as he stared through the windshield in disbelief.
Before them, a bizarre procession cut across the road.
They were a group of forty or fifty men, their bodies smeared in sacred grey ash (bhasma), wearing nothing but black dhotis. Their matted hair (jatas) hung long and wild. It was a terrifying sight. Some gripped iron tridents (trishuls), while others clutched human skulls freshly painted in crimson vermilion. A few carried livestock—goats and chickens—destined for sacrifice. As they walked, they pulled handfuls of grey powder from their satchels, flinging it onto the earth while chanting low, guttural mantras.
The soldier waited, praying for them to pass quickly.
"Somewhere far away, blood has been spilled... hehehe," one of the Tantrics shouted to the night sky, his voice raspy. "Today, the Maya Yagya will be performed. So many souls... and all their power will be mine! Hahaha!"
From the back of the truck, amidst the groans of the injured, a wounded old man suddenly erupted into manic laughter.
"Ha! Hahahaha! I told you! I told you they would come! Everyone will die... no one leaves alive!" The old man's eyes rolled back. "Now that they are here, HE will come too. And when he arrives, everyone will pay for their sins! WGYAAHAHA!"
The soldier, rattled by the old man and the delay, slammed his hand on the horn.
"Hey! Move it along!" he yelled out the window, his voice cracking slightly. "We have wounded people in here! We need to get to the hospital, move!"
At the sound of the horn, one of the Tantrics stopped. He slowly turned his head. His eyes widened, bulging from their sockets as he locked his gaze onto the soldier.
Cold sweat drenched the soldier's uniform. Terrified, he didn't wait for a response; he gunned the engine and swerved the truck around the group. As the vehicle passed, the soldier glanced in the side mirror. The Tantric was still watching him. Their eyes met one last time.
The ascetic cracked a wide, unhinged smile and, without blinking, began to claw at his own face with sharp fingernails, tearing the skin.
"Oh god... shit, what did I just do?" the soldier stammered, his hands trembling on the wheel. "Why was he looking at me like that? Lord Hari, protect me... can I even get these innocent people to the camp safely?"
Back on the road, the lead Tantric watched the taillights fade.
"Why have we stopped?" he barked, his voice booming. "Move forward! I can feel the dark energies pulsing. We will bind them today and achieve the ladder of immortality!"
"YES!" the group roared in unison.
"AALAKH NIRANJAN! AALAKH NIRANJAN!"
Chanting their invocation to the formless god, they marched onward. The leader looked up at the moonless sky and grinned—a smile of pure nightmare.
"Brahmarakshas... today, no one can save you from me. I will rip that limitless power from your very soul. Hahaha..."
His laughter echoed through the jungle, silencing even the wild beasts.
Near the back of this macabre procession walked an eighteen-year-old boy. Unlike the others, he wore a simple brown dhoti. He carried a wooden staff and an old lantern, his head bowed low. Tension was etched into every line of his young face.
"Keep your spiritual pressure lowered," Kunal whispered, seemingly to himself. "Just a little longer. We are almost there. We will give it everything we have and capture him, no matter what happens."
He spoke as if conversing with an invisible entity, though no one walked beside him—only the haze of ganja smoke and the drone of mantras.
Suddenly, the Master Tantric materialized behind him.
"Who are you talking to, Kunal?" The Master asked, his voice dripping with that same weird, unsettling amusement.
Kunal flinched. "Nothing, Aacharya. I was just... wondering if we would be successful today."
The Tantric scoffed. "Fool. An absolute fool. The humans of this generation are becoming so weak, so stupid." He leaned in close. "So, you are 'thinking,' hehe? You will keep thinking, Kunal, and the world will leave you behind."
The Master grabbed Kunal's shoulder. "Tell me one thing. Will you be able to bind as many spirits as possible tonight and control their power?"
"I... I don't know," Kunal stammered.
Thud!
The Master shoved Kunal's head down toward the earth violently. "Answer in Yes or No!" he roared.
"Yes! Yes, I can do it!" Kunal gasped, heavy breathing racking his chest.
"Hmph." The Tantric yanked him back up. "So you can do it. Next question: Do you even know how to bind them all?"
"Yes, I know," Kunal replied, recovering his balance.
"Then if you know everything, and you have the capacity within you... why are you wasting your time thinking?"
"AALAKH NIRANJAN! AALAKH NIRANJAN!" The Master placed a heavy hand on Kunal's head, flashed that grotesque smile again, and strode forward, singing his chant.
"These humans..." the Master mused aloud as he walked, "they can achieve things in their lifetime that our physical bodies cannot even dream of. But we are becoming impotent. We are losing the ability to see and understand the universe. Hehehe... Well, if not now, then when? Kali Yuga has truly taken hold."
Kunal watched him go, his heart pounding. Sometimes... sometimes I can't decide if I should just kill this old man, Kunal thought bitterly.
As if hearing the thought, the Tantric whipped his head around and flashed a terrifying, knowing grin at Kunal.
Kunal immediately dropped his gaze. Shit. That smile... it's enough to scare the father of all demons. It's freezing out here, so why am I sweating? Damn it. Forgive me, Aacharya!
The horde of Tantrics marched relentlessly toward the village.
SCENE SHIFT
The village was a graveyard.
Silence had reclaimed the area, heavy and suffocating. Blood pooled on the ground, slick and dark. Dead bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls. Houses smoldered, the flames casting long, dancing shadows against the pitch-black sky.
In the center of the devastation stood Kashi, Vijay, Husain Ali, and Jaspreet. They were frozen in shock, their eyes fixed on the jungle in the distance.
Panic and desperation merged into a single, collective scream that ripped through the silence:
"VIRENDRAAA...!!"
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UPCOMING: THE PROCESSION OF ASH.....