The ruins were not silent.
Ash drifted like pale snowflakes, soft and deceptive, but beneath that deceptive stillness lay whispers of screams that had not yet faded. Arjun stood at the edge of what once was his home, his throat tight, his fists trembling, as if clenching them tighter could keep his heart from shattering. He had seen battles before—missions that tested the edges of his endurance—but nothing prepared him for the sight of one's own blood painted across stones.
He inhaled. The air tasted of iron, smoke, and despair.
"Arjun…"
The voice was hoarse, weak. His gaze snapped toward the collapsed remnants of a wooden structure. With a sharp breath, he hurried forward, lifting charred beams with sheer desperation. Beneath them lay a man bruised and battered, his body barely recognizable, but those eyes—dark, burning even in weakness—were familiar.
"Father!" Arjun's voice cracked as he dropped to his knees.
The man's lips trembled into something close to a smile. "Still… standing… That's good."
Arjun swallowed the lump in his throat. He pressed his hands to his father's wounds, uselessly trying to stop the flow of blood. "Don't talk. Save your strength."
But his father only shook his head, eyes narrowing. "Listen, Arjun. We don't have time for grief. Not yet." His words were jagged, punctured by coughs. "Some of us survived… scattered. Find them. Protect them. That is your duty now."
Arjun's fingers tightened against the dirt. Duty. The word weighed heavier than the ruins themselves. "I won't fail," he whispered, though the weight of those words threatened to crush him.
A shadow passed across his father's face, something unspoken, something darker. "And beware… the energy. The price your grandfather paid… it was not just sacrifice. It was a curse that lingers."
Arjun stiffened. "Curse?"
But his father's breath rattled, his body trembling with weakness. He could say no more.
---
Hours passed like fractured glass. Arjun moved through the wreckage, searching desperately. Among broken walls and cracked earth, he found them—two cousins, wounded but alive, their faces stained with soot and tears; an elderly aunt who clutched at a charred necklace, muttering prayers under her breath; three children, their eyes too empty for their age. Survivors. Fragments.
As night descended, the clan's remnants gathered in what little shelter could be salvaged. Fires burned low, casting flickering shadows. No one spoke of the dead. To speak was to break, and no one could afford that yet.
Arjun stood apart, watching. Every face carried the same reflection of loss, but when their eyes flickered toward him, he recognized something else—expectation. As if, in the wake of ruin, he had already inherited his grandfather's mantle. As if the bloodline's strength now demanded its price from him.
And within him, something stirred. A pulse, faint but undeniable, thrummed against his veins. It wasn't his own power—it was alien, coiling like smoke within his chest.
He clenched his jaw. This must be what Father meant.
---
That night, sleep came not as rest but as an ambush.
Arjun dreamed—or perhaps he was dragged elsewhere. He stood in a void where the air shimmered like molten glass. A figure emerged from the darkness, cloaked in robes woven of ash and flame. The face was hidden, but the presence—oh, he knew it. He had felt it in the last flare of his grandfather's life.
"You carry my oath," the voice rumbled, heavy with ancient grief.
"Grandfather…" Arjun whispered.
"Not just mine," the voice corrected, resonating through bone. "Every ancestor who bore this burden… every sacrifice made in silence. It flows now in your blood."
Arjun's fists shook. "Why didn't you save them? You were the strongest—why did it end like this?"
The figure paused, silence thick as stone. Then: "Strength always demands a cost. To save you, I gave my life. To save the clan's future, I gave you the chain."
Arjun's chest tightened. "The chain?"
"You will know it when it awakens. But beware, Arjun. Power twisted by grief becomes poison. And poison… consumes more than flesh."
The vision shuddered, the figure dissolving into ash.
Arjun gasped awake, drenched in sweat. His heart thundered, and his veins burned with heat. Around him, the few survivors slept restlessly, unaware of the storm now coiling within him.
--
Dawn brought no peace.
As Arjun stepped beyond the camp, the silence struck him differently. It wasn't emptiness—it was watchfulness. The forest beyond the ruins stood too still, the air too sharp. His instincts, honed by countless missions, screamed that eyes were upon them.
And then he heard it.
A faint rustle. A shift of earth.
Arjun's hand went to his blade instantly.
From the shadows stepped figures cloaked in black, their faces hidden beneath masks etched with crimson sigils. Their movements were precise, silent—trained assassins.
His pulse spiked. They've come to finish what they started.
The nearest figure tilted his head, voice muffled but cruel. "So the ember still flickers. Good. The Master desires the last flame of the bloodline to be extinguished by our hand."
Rage surged through Arjun, but beneath it, that alien pulse stirred again. The energy writhed, begging release. He felt it clawing at his mind, whispering promises of strength, of vengeance.
He tightened his grip on his blade. "You'll regret coming here."
The assassins struck.
Steel clashed in the pale morning light. Arjun's body moved with instinct, honed skill guiding each strike. But as the battle deepened, he felt the forbidden energy leaking through his veins. His speed sharpened beyond human limits, his blade carving arcs of light. For a fleeting moment, he was unstoppable.
And then it hit him—the backlash.
His chest flared with pain, blood searing through his lungs. The energy wasn't just power—it was venom, tearing at his body from within. He staggered, barely catching the strike aimed at his neck.
The assassin hissed. "The curse devours you already."
Arjun's fury boiled. He roared, forcing the power through him despite the pain. His blade split the air, cutting down his foe in a flash of crimson. Another fell. Then another.
When silence returned, Arjun stood amidst the bodies, trembling, his breath ragged. His vision blurred, veins darkened along his arms like cracks of shadow.
He staggered back toward camp, each step heavy. The whispers echoed in his mind. Poison… curse… chain.
And as he collapsed to his knees, clutching his burning chest, a voice unlike his own hissed from within:
"You are mine now."