The courtyard shook under the clash of divine light and black fire, shards of ancient stone skittering across bloodstained ground. Dust curled in choking spirals; the air tasted of ash and burnt fur. Near the
entrance to the Hall of the Ancient Relic, Agastyan stood unmoving, ink bands flickering like dying embers as Varunaas hurled waves of searing black fire.
Not far away, Ranthak's spirit snakes coiled and struck, scales glinting with fading silver. Their fangs pierced rotting hides, snapping undead spines, but the stink of decay thickened around them. Jungle beasts—bears, leopards, horned deer—fought at Ranthak's side, claws sinking into cold flesh. Yet every roar met Kraan's bone chains crashing down, and Nishaara's venom shadows slithered around Ranthak's spirit snakes, binding them in coils of death.
Kartik, chest tight with desperation, tasted blood and dust on his tongue. His mind screamed, I have to help, as he forced battered legs to move. He saw a blade lying near by and he picked the blade up hoping that it would come in handy. He charged toward Kraan, blade ready—but Maayak slid from
the shadows, grin cruel under the dim sky.
"Running to your death?" Maayak mocked, his voice low as a serpent's hiss.
Kartik swung, but steel cut only air. Shadows shifted; illusions danced, each step twisting the ground beneath him. His breath turned ragged, heart hammering as mocking faces melted into smoke.
Maayak's laughter was soft and merciless. "Is that all?" His palm shimmered with dark power. Kartik braced, but the blow smashed into him, flinging him across the stones. His ribs screamed in agony as he tumbled, vision blurring.
Ranthak glimpsed Kartik struggling between his own battle. His spirit snakes tightened around an undead wolf, bones cracking, yet each attempt to help was crushed by Kraan's bone chains and Nishaara's shadows tearing at fur and scale alike. The jungle beasts snarled, pushing back rotten tigers and skeletal deer, but blood darkened the stone beneath them.
Maayak stalked closer, voice like poison in Kartik's ears. "How can you protect anyone? When you can not even protect yourself, Join us. Power beyond devotion. Freedom to bend the world."
Kartik spat blood, voice hoarse but clear. "Never."
Disgust twisted Maayak's face. He raised a hand, black energy gathering—but a trembling voice cut through the battle.
"Big Brother… don't give up!"
The little girl stumbled toward Kartik, hair tangled, dress stained with dust. Memories crashed through Kartik's pain: her quiet smile when she brought him water after dawn training, the afternoons she'd shared stale flatbread when he skipped meals, the gentle patience when she taught him to feed a wounded deer near the forest edge. She had been a small kindness in endless days of sweat and bruises.
She knelt beside him, tiny hands tugging at his arm. "Please… please get up, big brother ," she whispered, tears in her eyes.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell away. Kartik felt something tighten in his chest—not power, but grief and rage.
Maayak's gaze turned icy. "Insects shouldn't interfere," he snarled, and his boot crashed into her side. The sound of bone striking stone echoed horribly. The girl tumbled across the courtyard, rolling until she lay twisted and unmoving.
Kartik's breath caught, vision swimming. Tears slid through blood and dust. "She did nothing… why?"
"Freedom," Maayak answered, cold as stone. "These humans mean nothing there are millions out there just like her and thousands die everyday so no need to think that much."
Ranthak roared, spirit snakes lunging in fury, crushing an undead tiger's skull. Jungle beasts charged, fur bristling, but Kraan's chains lashed down with sickening force, breaking limbs, and Nishaara's venom
shadows snaked through the chaos, binding Ranthak's spirit snakes again.
Other warriors stumbled toward the girl, swords raised—but Maayak's illusions trapped them in shifting corridors of shadows. Blades cut only smoke; every step led deeper into a nightmare. His laughter
spread through the courtyard, cruel and echoing.
Then, like dawn swallowed by midnight, darkness poured across the sacred ground. Ranthak gasped first, feeling his spirit snakes dim, their glow fading to dull grey. Jungle beasts staggered, legs buckling,
and collapsed. Divine strength seeped from his veins, knees striking stone.
Across the field, Agastyan faltered; ink bands dulled as Varunaas's grin widened. "Feel it, teacher? The sacred flow abandoning you."
Even the towering Nandi—all breath turned ragged as the sacred energy of Trinetra
was drained, drawn into unseen shadows.
Amid the ruin, Kartik stood. Bruised, blood drying on his face, but the crushing weight that toppled the others did not fall on him. Confusion flickered in his gaze, but horror drowned it as he watched defenders he had trained beside fall, one by one, into weakness and despair.
Dark laughter spilled across the desecrated courtyard, mingling with the rattling breath of the dying. Shadows thickened, curling like smoke around broken pillars, and enemy silhouettes loomed through the darkness.
And so the defenders of Trinetra fell to their knees, as darkness closed in and hope seemed to bleed into the cold stone beneath them.
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