Slowly, Kunal's veins began to blacken, tracing dark webs across his skin as he became drenched in a cold sweat.
"Just a little longer, Kunal," Mohna urged. She was chanting the ritual mantras to stabilize the sacrifice, her mind racing. "Collecting Prana is no ordinary feat. We are drawing alien, Tamasic forces into the subtle body. It corrupts the mind, swells the ego, and breeds madness. Right now, Kunal is only gathering weak souls—he isn't even ready to absorb them yet."
Suddenly, Kunal's eyes rolled back, turning a stark, sightless white. A thick, obsidian-colored blood began to leak from his mouth. Defying gravity, his body rose into the air, staring toward the dark sky as the purple aura surrounding him flickered out.
The hexagonal 3D structure he had painstakingly built near his navel—the prison for the spirits he had captured—shattered. The souls began to pour out like a dam breaking. Seven terrifying, ancient spirits tore through Kunal's throat, erupting from his mouth in a violent burst.
The impact of the ritual's destruction was cataclysmic. A wave of spiritual pressure surged outward, shattering the protective seals of the nearby tantriks.
Kunal slammed back into the earth. "Agggh... my head... it won't stop spinning," he gasped, retching a pool of black bile. "What... what is this black blood?"
Mohna rushed to his side, her face pale. "Master! Are you alright?"
"Mohna! Why did you leave the ritual site?" Kunal wheezed. "The Aacharya... he'll know by now."
Around them, the forest turned into a nightmare. The spirits Kunal had imprisoned were now a shrieking whirlwind, circling the area where the tantriks sat. With cries of "You would make us your slaves? We will kill you all!", the ghosts dove into the bodies of the tantriks, seizing control of their limbs and forcing them to draw their own daggers across their throats.
"No... Mohna, go back! Keep the ritual going. I'll handle them!" Kunal forced himself to his feet. He traced a complex arc in the air, bringing his palms together in a layered mudra.
"Mṛtyubandhanaṃ hrīṃ | Sarvadoṣiṇāṃ mṛtagrahaṇakūpaḥ ||"
A circle of ghostly green fire erupted on the ground. At its center, a small, blue doll-like figure materialized. The wind howled as the escaped ghosts were violently sucked toward the center of the flame.
"Papi! Sinner!" the ghosts wailed as they were dragged in. "You won't keep us trapped forever! We will have our revenge!"
"Master Kunal, the sacrificial vessel is ready!" Mohna shouted over the roar of the wind.
At that moment, the Aacharya ceased his chanting. He opened his eyes, taking in the carnage with a look of pure fury. "Kunaaaalll! You foolish boy!"
The Aacharya lunged, his hand locking around Kunal's throat like a vice. He glared at the soul-sealing fire domain where the blue doll was now fully formed.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" the Aacharya hissed. "Our brothers are dead because of your incompetence! I told you to merely capture these souls—extracting Prana from them is impossible!"
He shook Kunal violently. "Prāṇaḥ sharīram āśritaḥ—Life energy is bound to the flesh. It leaves the body at death; it does not follow the soul. It cannot be absorbed, only the Tamasic shadow can be controlled!"
"Don't... play me for a fool, Aacharya," Kunal gasped, clawing at the hand around his neck. "I know your goal. You want the power of the Brahmrakshas. You want the forbidden knowledge of immortality to rule this world. I won't let that happen."
The Aacharya's expression went cold. "I should have let that bear kill you along with your sister and family. It was a mistake to spare you. I won't make that mistake twice."
The Aacharya gestured toward a nearby ancient tree. "Ādhyātmikaśaktayaḥ mamājnāṃ pālayantu—Hrīṃ!"
The tree's branches came alive, slithering like wooden serpents toward Kunal. Kunal delivered a sharp kick to the Aacharya's face, breaking the hold on his throat, and dove away. He pulled a black dagger from his back—a blade etched with the symbol of a dog's head—and began hacking at the encroaching wood.
"Mohna! Take the spirit doll!" Kunal yelled as the branches began to overwhelm him. "Guard it with your life!"
A massive branch snagged Kunal's leg, hoisting him upside down. Within seconds, the tree began to envelop him, weaving a cage of bark and thorn.
Ignoring Kunal, the Aacharya returned to the center of the ritual. Each mantra he uttered felt like a localized explosion of unnatural energy. "Come forth! Accept this offering! Brahmrakshas, awaken!"
The earth buckled. A massive, monstrous entity shrouded in flickering grey flames rose from the soil. Its presence was suffocating.
"Who..." the Brahmrakshas boomed, its voice vibrating in Kunal's marrow. "Who dares disturb my slumber?"
Kunal watched from his wooden cage, paralyzed. It's massive. The spiritual pressure alone is enough to crack my skull... but the Aacharya is standing right there, unfazed. I have to get out of here.
The Brahmrakshas didn't wait for an answer. It lunged at the Aacharya. "You have nerve, mortal! I know why you summoned me!"
The Aacharya dodged a devastating punch that shattered the ground behind him. "If you know why I am here, then stop wasting time and grant me the Divine Knowledge!"
"Many have asked," the monster grinned, a horrifying sight. "All have ended up as my meal. Today, you join them."
The Aacharya's hands glowed with a sickly green light. "Hrīṁ pañcamaṁ rūpaṁ pātālikaṁ saṁśodhanārtham!" Two spectral, five-foot-long hands manifested beside him, slamming into the Rakshas and driving it into the dirt.
The Aacharya landed gracefully as the dust settled. "Have you reached a decision?"
The Brahmrakshas laughed from the crater. "So, you know the arts of manifestation? Impressive. Very well... Hrīṁ prathamaṁ rūpaṁ naraka-saṁśodhana-pañjaḥ!"
While the two titans clashed, Kunal saw his opening. "The Aacharya is distracted... now! What was the seventh form of Hrin?" He closed his eyes, focusing. "Hrīṁ saptamaṁ rūpaṁ tīkṣṇīkaraṇa-khaḍgaḥ!"
His black dagger ignited with a crimson glow. With a single, powerful sweep, he sliced through the enchanted branches and tumbled to the ground.
"Mohna? Where are you?"
The blue wooden doll fell from the canopy, landing at his feet. Kunal stared at it, a cold knot forming in his stomach. Wait... did Mohna get sucked into the doll with the other spirits?
In the clearing, the Aacharya taunted the monster. "Is that all? It seems your powers have grown as stagnant as your sleep."
The air went silent for three seconds. Then, an invisible force—shaped like a colossal palm—struck the Aacharya, launching him through the forest like a ragdoll.
"Gwahaha! You thought me weak?" the Brahmrakshas roared. It turned its head, its gaze locking onto Kunal. It spotted the blue doll in Kunal's hand and peeled back its lips in a terrifying, predatory smile.
Miles away, the Aacharya slammed into the forest floor. "Impossible... such power," he coughed, clutching his chest.
Suddenly, the ground vibrated. Two massive silhouettes emerged from the treeline: Nazim and his monstrous partner lizard.
"Well, well," Nazim sneered, looking down at the wounded aacharya. "What's the matter, old man? Is that the face of someone seeing their own death?"
The Aacharya didn't look afraid. Instead, a slow, horrifying grin spread across his face.
"Hrīṁ ṣaṣṭhaṁ rūpaṁ prāṇa-tattva-saṁyamena deha-vaśīkaraṇam."
Grey flames swirled from the Aacharya's fingertips, lashing out and sinking into the chests of both Nazim and the lizard. They collapsed to their knees, eyes glazed.
"Rise," the Aacharya commanded.
The monsters stood up. Their eyes had turned a dull, vacant grey. They were no longer hunters; they were his puppets.
.
.
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UPCOMING: The Shattered night....