They say it takes years to understand another's soul, but in one night Stanzin understood what she had always known and saw in silence.
~~~~~
There is a quiet between Shaamvi and KaanKuwar. They speak without words, their minds brushing against each other's, exchanging fears, and unspoken trust. Stanzin steps in, "I brought all of the things you asked for."
KaanKuwar nods. He arranges everything with precision, then begins to prepare the ritual altar, gathering the items he requested.
"Fill seventeen bowls with water," he instructs, voice steady, deliberate. "Mix fresh river water into all of them. Fill, a small glass too with river water, leave it pure—don't touch it, don't mix anything."
Stanzin follows each instruction without hesitation. KaanKuwar lays the bamboos wrapped in banana leaves beside Shaamvi, each one positioned to catch and hold the cursed energy.
He sits cross-legged between the seventeen bowls, holding the untouched glass of river water in his hands. The space tightens around him, as if the very air anticipates the coming ritual.
"Keep this neem leaf in your mouth," he instructs Stanzin. His tone is calm, yet edged with urgency. "I will perform a transfer—a spell to draw the black, oppressive energy from Shaamvi into these bamboos. The energy will lash and thrash, it can attack you too, this will keep you safe. You must keep the neem in your mouth, and when it gets dry due to the negetivity, spit it out immediately, placing another leaf in its place. Do you understand?"
Stanzin nods, eyes steady. He positions himself outside the altar, ready.
KaanKuwar closes his eyes. Shaamvi lying still, in same position as before.
His hands rise, then sweep low, fingers making invisible sigils in the space above the bowls.
After a while, shadows coil around Shaamvi, black as ink and sharp as thorns, moving as if alive. The energy rises. It surges from Shaamvi, invisible yet tangible, and lashes toward the bamboo. KaanKuwar's palms burn as he guides the dark threads.The leaves quiver, the bamboos hum and vibrate with tension, vibrating as if straining against a fierce wind.
Leaves tremble, banana skins rustle, and the cursed energy pulses, resisting, refusing to be fully contained. KaanKuwar pushes harder, sweat glistening on his forehead, muscles tense. The dark energy hisses and writhes, but he forces as much as possible into the bamboos.
Stanzin watches, mesmerized. He feels a strange awe at KaanKuwar's control, his presence, the way he moves through the darkness, how he is handling this? how he is doing this all? why these dark energies are not attacking him? He wonders.
Stanzin spit the leaves one by one, as it dries up.
Finally, with a sharp, explosive sound, bamboo cracks, blasts, splintering like lightning striking wood. Fragments scatter, carrying a portion of the 2nd strike's energy away. The remaining black energy is still humming , watching, waiting. Now diminished but still present, swirling inside and around Shaamvi.
Shaamvi can now blink, slowly, sensing the change.
The weight pressing on her body has eased slightly, though the lingering shadow reminds her of the danger still hovering around. KaanKuwar's hands lower the glass, his eyes scanning her for signs of pain, his breathing steady but heavy from the effort.
The ritual is done—for now. And Stanzin, still mesmerized, cannot stop staring at KaanKuwar, wondering how he does what seems impossible and what is he?
Stanzin had always wondered why Shaamvi placed her faith in him so deeply, why she believed this strange being was the only one who could stand against the darkness. Tonight, as he watched the ritual unfold before his eyes, he finally understood. He finally saw what she had always seen.