Shaal tore himself free of the roots and stumbled into a chamber, ancient beyond understanding. His knees threatened to fold beneath him. The hoodie clung like a second skin, making him want to tear it off—he was suffocating inside his own clothes.
Each breath scraped his lungs raw, as if he were swallowing broken glass. His chest locked—panic maybe, or the air itself. There was a strange, unsettling scent, and the sweet aroma of the chamber made his stomach churn.
Slick walls surrounded him, bones strewn across the floor in shapes his mind couldn't classify—animal, human, or something in between.
The cave didn't echo. His breathing should've bounced back, but it was swallowed whole, as if the walls themselves were listening.
At the far end stood a massive door, its crystal veins faintly pulsing under the torchlight. It was adorned with carvings Shaal couldn't decipher. Looking closer, he noticed warnings scattered throughout the cave. He could make out a few words: caution, do not, rakshas.
Right in front of it sat a book. Thick. Leather swollen with damp. Heavy in his hands—heavier than it had any right to be.
The opening pages were filled with barked warnings—dramatic doomsday nonsense. He flipped through them quickly, looking for what he needed. Finally, he found it: words scattered unevenly across half-empty pages. A ritual. The method to summon Rakshas Nirmukh. He's the one under Shani's watchful gaze and this is his cage.
If he had known it would require blood, he would've collected it on the way. He dug bone dust out of the skeletons, tore fresh through the bandages binding his torso, squeezed until red welled up again. The book hadn't said how much was needed. He hoped it wasn't more than what was left in him.
Lines took shape under his trembling hands—messy, uneven, but a circle all the same. Blood sank into the dirt, into him. His hoodie clung colder. His head felt thin.
A mirror. The ritual wanted a mirror. All he had was a bottle of water. He poured it into a carved skull and set it in the center, hoping the water would suffice.
He knelt. Mask off. The damp air clawed down his throat, making him cough until black spots pricked the edges of his vision. Still, he bent over the bone, forcing the words out: "Āgaccha, Nirmukhaḥ, bahurūpadhārī…"
The circle caught. Fire snapped along the bloody lines, orange light rushing around him until he sat inside a furnace. The door groaned, stone splitting like ribs. The pool of water trembled, fogging over until he could barely see his reflection.
Then something changed. From the scattered bones came faint whispers, like air escaping from broken lungs. At first, he mistook it for the wind.
"Stop… don't…"
A voice, hollow, cracked, desperate. Then another, sharper, angry:
"Begging won't save you…"
Shaal's hands trembled. He ignored the warnings.
"You're too weak."
"Give up, child."
The makeshift mirror wobbled in the center, water sloshing against the edges, reflecting hundreds of ghostly faces. Sockets hollow, mouths gaping, telling him to stop. Each skeleton on the floor leaned slightly forward, as if trying to intervene.
He gripped his bleeding torso tightly and pushed forward, even as the smoke stung tears into his eyes.
"You seep what you raw…
Bound in flesh, bound in bone…"
The whispers surged, overlapping, frantic, mocking:
"You cannot hold it! You will fail!"
"The blood is too little! Too weak!"
"You'll kill her too!"
Shaal forced the final words out, ignoring them all.:
"Tvam āgaccha. Tvam āgaccha. Tvam āgaccha."
"What have you done…."
All at once, the door slammed open, sending a rush of cold air that made Shaal shiver. The once-hot cave began to freeze as frost crept in from the open room, turning the air icy while the surface remained warm.
Silence crashed down, abrupt and oppressive. His pulse thundered in his ears, louder than his thoughts. He wanted to stop, to turn away, but his body refused to obey.
He wanted out. He needed out.
"Run, run, run,run-"
Then the water shifted, becoming clear and freezing around the edges. His face stared back—pale, hollow, eyes bloodshot. Over his reflection, another pair appeared: golden, split pupils locked on him like hooks. Then came a jaw lined with teeth that had no place in any throat. Shaal's instincts screamed at him not to lift his head and look up.
The monster leaned closer, its enormous golden iris dominating his vision, making him feel impossibly small. Shaal mustered the courage to lift his head. There was hardly any light to reveal the dark shadows forming the creature, but he could feel the presence of a colossal body just a breath away.
"You called?" it murmured.
"Dont listen to him! He's a lier"
The choice had already been made the second he walked into this room. He had ruined everything. She was the one paying.
"To save my sister," Shaal said. Quiet. Certain.
"Save? him? pftt-"
The beast drew closer, its eyes becoming the only thing visible behind him in the reflection. It asked: "Do you know the price?"
"He'll kill-"
"Yes."
"He'll kill -everyone"
"Are you willing to pay it?"
"No, no, no, no—" The voices began to chant in unison.
Pushing against the voices, about to say yes, Shaal felt his vision blur. His eyes widened as the chamber dissolved into a haze around him. Then the world twisted.
The chamber heaved sideways and his stomach rolled with it. The chamber lurched. Darkness slammed him. For a breath—nothing—then the smoke cracked open and he was back in his city but, Broken.
Heat slammed into him, sharp enough to peel skin. Hotter than the fire circle hotter than breath. Towers surrounding him screamed as they split, leaning like drunks before dropping in on themselves.
Ash clogged his throat. He gagged, coughed, nothing came out. Every inhale was dirt and smoke.
People ran. No—stumbled, clawed their way past him, mouths wide, soundless until the screams caught up. Faces sloughed into fire, eyes and lips gone, skull grinning through the mess. He couldn't look away. Couldn't blink.
The noise stabbed straight into him. Screams weren't just screams—they carried words, bent and broken, threading into his ears.
stop it—
prevent this—
your choice—
choose, choose—
They stacked, crashed into each other until he couldn't tell if the cries were human or not.
He reached out, useless, everything was burning he could feel everything and nothing. His hand came back empty, smeared black with ash that stuck to his blood.
The world lurched again, like a whip crack, and the street ripped away.
Stone. The chamber. Cold wet air in his teeth. The circle is already glowing under him.
The voices cut off like someone snapped their necks.
Only silence left, too heavy, too sharp, the kind that made his heartbeat sound like hammer blows. The reflection in the water mirrored him and the beast watching patiently.
Shaal's head ached with the weight of the memory, the relentless whispers pressing in. His hands clenched tightly, blood and dirt merging.
When he opened his eyes again, they were wet with tears, looking directly above him—staring into the beast's.
"I am," Shaal said with finality.
The beast breathed heat across the chamber.
"Greedy little leech… gutting himself for blood."
"She's all I've got."
"She's the only thing I didn't ruin."
"And when she learns what you've done?" it asked curiously.
"She'll hate me." He swallowed. "She should."
The beast leaned closer, the heat of its breath washing over him. Its voice slithered into his mind, calm and terrifying.
"Alright then. Deal accepted."
The beast leaned down, its mouth opening wide, teeth as sharp as blades coming to erase him. He didn't flinch, only smiled—faint and broken.
Did he regret it? He didn't know.
It was too late; the storm was coming.
Then the mouth descended, and the flames consumed him.
There was no scream, no plea—only freezing cold. Then suffocating silence.
It was almost dawn when the bark of the red tree split. All bindings came undone.
Something crawled out, wearing Shaal's shape but not his weight. He moved loose, lazy. Eyes golden, pupils horizontal, catching light like a predator. Claws picked between his teeth, splitting his lip. "Tastes like ash," he muttered.
A voice hummed through his skull. [Rene, we going adventure?]
"Yeah," the beast said in a young voice
The ruined city sprawled ahead, fields of sunflowers bowing in the weak light beyond, walls rising to keep the monsters out.
"We're going to burn a city down."