Darkness ruled this place—not the quiet, peaceful darkness of sleep, but a suffocating, breathing void that pressed against the skin and crawled into the lungs. The cave walls glistened with dampness, veins of corrupted sap pulsing beneath cracked stone like infected blood vessels. Water dripped from the ceiling, each drop echoing like the ticking of a funeral clock.
The air reeked of rot, poison, and something far worse—despair.
Mokshit lay sprawled in the cold mud, his limbs bound by thick chains of corrupted vines. They were alive. Each link twisted and pulsed, thorns embedded deep into his skin to siphon away the white-green energy that once defined him. With every pulse of red light, his strength flickered and faded.
Pain was everywhere. It burned behind his eyes and throbbed in his veins like fire trying to freeze.
Slowly, painfully, his consciousness surfaced. "…Where… am I…?"
His voice was a ghost of a sound. As he tried to shift, the chains reacted instantly. Thorns dug deeper into his wrists and ankles, punishing him for the mere thought of movement. He gasped, his chest burning where the tranquilizer dart had struck. His heartbeat felt sluggish, dragging itself through thick, poisoned sludge.
He tried to call out to the forest. Silence answered.
Footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate, and heavy with authority. A shadow emerged from the red gloom.
"…Nirmul…"
The man who stepped into the light was no longer human. His body had grown broader, denser, fused with stone and bark. One side of his face looked carved from dead, splintered wood; the other was a mask of cold cruelty. His eyes burned like the dying core of a star.
Nirmul smiled, and the corrupted chains tightened in sync with his amusement. "Good morning, Guardian."
Mokshit clenched his jaw against the agony. "Let… me… go."
Nirmul laughed, a sound layered with a second, ancient voice. He crouched in front of Mokshit, gripping his chin with clawed fingers. "No. You're going to stay here until the corruption eats you alive… cell by cell… thought by thought."
"You… can't control me," Mokshit hissed.
Nirmul's smile widened, revealing teeth that looked like jagged flint. "I don't need to. Your father already did half my work."
The words struck harder than any physical blow. Mokshit's breath hitched as the memory flooded back: the gun, the dart, and his father's shaking hands. "…Why…?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "Why did he shoot me…?"
"Because he feared you," Nirmul whispered, his breath cold. "He feared that the monster would one day look back at him through your eyes. Your parents hid a truth from you, boy. A truth that will shatter your faith in everything."
"What… secret…?"
Nirmul released him, letting his head slam back against the stone. "Pain tastes better when it's slow. I won't spoil the surprise."
THE CORRUPTION PRIEST
From the shadows, a wet, organic sound emerged. KRRRRR—
A tall, hunched figure crawled into the light. Roots wrapped its body like ancient, pulsing bandages. Its face was hidden behind a cracked wooden mask etched with symbols that made Mokshit's eyes bleed.
"Master… the ritual chamber is ready…" the creature hissed, its voice sounding like many mouths speaking through one throat.
"W-who are you…?" Mokshit gasped.
The Priest tilted its head at an unnatural angle. "I am the voice of the Corruption Spirit. And you, little guardian… are our greatest gift."
Nirmul turned away, his voice dismissive. "Prepare him. Tomorrow, the corruption claims his heart."
"NO—!!" Mokshit screamed, thrashing against the chains. But the Priest pressed a clawed finger to his chest, and the world began to fade into a dark, drugged sleep.
EXT. THE WORLD OUTSIDE – NIGHT
At the house, the atmosphere was broken. Prakruthi sat on the floor, her screams raw. "YOU SHOT OUR SON! OUR ONLY CHILD!"
Rakshit stood frozen, his face a ghostly pale. "I didn't mean to! Nirmul's men... they said they'd kill him if I didn't stop him!"
Prakruthi slapped him, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "You betrayed him," she whispered. "You betrayed our son."
Meanwhile, in the Spirit Grove, the trio was in shambles. Rohan's knuckles were bloody from punching trees. Nikhil sat in the mud, staring at nothing. But Meera stood still, her fists clenched and her eyes burning with a new, dangerous light.
"Mokshit," she whispered, "I'm coming for you."
INT. THE CAVE — THE SECOND EVOLUTION
Deep in the darkness of the cell, Mokshit lay bound. "…I'm not… dying here…"
Suddenly, from a crack in the stone floor, a tiny green seed floated upward. It wasn't corrupted. It was warm. Radiant.
"Even in darkness… life grows," a voice echoed—not the Nature Spirit, but something older, something primal.
The seed touched Mokshit's chest. A surge of white-green light, purer than anything he had felt before, flooded his veins.
Crack. Crack.
The corrupted chains began to tremble. Mokshit's eyes snapped open, glowing with a fierce, blinding intensity.
"Just wait… Nirmul…"
The sound of splitting vines echoed through the cavern. The Second Evolution—the Force of the Wild—had begun.