The forest of Vyangadesh was a place of whispers and ancient breath. Towering trees stretched endlessly, their canopies locking out the sunlight like a ceiling of emerald glass. Villagers often warned their children never to wander too deep, for old spirits still walked among the roots — or so they said.
But warnings rarely stopped children.
Prithvi, now five, followed his foster brother Aarav into the forest that evening. The air smelled of rain and soil, and soft mist clung to the ground. Aarav had spotted a bird — its feathers glimmered faintly blue, like it was carved from moonlight.
"Come on, Prithvi!" Aarav whispered. "If we catch it, Amma will tell everyone we're brave!"
Prithvi hesitated. "We shouldn't go too far," he said softly, glancing over his shoulder at the fading light. "Amma said the spirits walk here after dusk."
Aarav snorted. "Spirits aren't real. You're just scared."
He laughed and ran ahead, vanishing between the trees. Prithvi frowned, then followed. The ground turned damp underfoot, and the trees began to twist unnaturally, their bark blackened with age.
Then came the sound.A low growl — deep, guttural, wrong.
Aarav froze. His hand trembled as he turned toward the sound. From the shadows, two golden eyes blinked open.
The creature that stepped out was no ordinary beast. It was massive — its fur ashen gray, muscles rippling beneath its skin. Jagged black horns curled from its skull, and its claws tore the ground like knives. Its breath steamed in the cold air, reeking of blood.
A Raksh-Wolf.A beast of legend — said to be born from the cursed souls of ancient warriors.
Prithvi's heart slammed against his chest. His legs wanted to run, but something inside him refused. He stepped in front of Aarav, spreading his tiny arms.
"Go back," he said quietly. "I'll stop it."
Aarav's lips trembled. "You'll die—"
"Run."
The Raksh-Wolf's growl deepened. It crouched, ready to pounce — when the air suddenly grew heavy.
A faint warmth spread across Prithvi's back, beneath his shirt. His breath caught as a strange light flickered from beneath his skin — golden, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
The wolf stopped mid-step.Its golden eyes widened.
It whimpered — a sound too human, too afraid — and took a step back. The light from Prithvi's mark shone faintly through the fabric, illuminating the mist around him. For a moment, the entire forest went silent.
Then the wolf turned and vanished into the dark, as if something greater had ordered it to leave.
Aarav stared, speechless. "W–what was that?"
Prithvi blinked. The glow faded. He looked down at his trembling hands. "I… don't know."
When they returned home, their mother scolded them for sneaking out. But that night, as Prithvi slept, she sat beside him and touched his hair.
For a brief second, she saw a faint glimmer beneath his collar — a light shaped like the sun.
She whispered to herself, voice barely audible, "Perhaps… the gods have plans for this child."
Outside, the wind carried the howl of the Raksh-Wolf — distant, fading, as if it too remembered the boy who made it kneel.