Aarav woke before the sun.
That almost never happened.
Usually his mother had to shake him, or Kiran would bang on the door and yell, "Wake up, sleeping buffalo!"
But today, his eyes opened on their own.
The house was dim and quiet.
A faint grey light pushed at the window.
Someone snored softly in the front room.
Rishi Vardaan.
For a moment Aarav lay still, listening:
the slow breath of his mother,
the old sage's quieter, steady breathing,
the distant, thin whisper of the river.
The warmth in his chest was still there.
Not burning.
Not painful.
Just present.
Like a small animal curled up, awake and watching.
He placed his hand over it.
"Are you ever going to sleep?" he whispered.
Of course, there was no answer.
🐦 A Village Not Quite Right
By the time the sky turned orange, the village was awake.
Aarav stepped outside with a bucket in hand.
Something felt off again.
Not just in his chest.
The birds were wrong.
Usually, they hopped and chattered in the trees, arguing loudly over crumbs and insects.
Today they sat in higher branches, restless and quiet, heads turning as if searching for something they couldn't see.
A dog near the street whined softly and refused to step out from under a cart.
Even the goats, usually busy trying to eat things they shouldn't, stood close together, stamping their hooves.
Aarav frowned.
"Do animals feel Adharma too?" he wondered.
Behind him, Vardaan's voice answered as if he'd spoken aloud.
"Yes. Sometimes before humans do."
Aarav turned.
The sage stood in the doorway, his hair loose around his shoulders, eyes sharp in the morning light.
"You see it too?" Aarav asked.
"I hear it," Vardaan said. "In how the world holds its breath."
He looked toward the distant hills.
"The crack we saw yesterday," he murmured. "I want to see how it slept."
Aarav's chest warmed.
"Can a crack sleep?"
"Everything that lives in this universe rests and wakes in its own way," Vardaan said. "Cracks, too."
"Cracks… live?" Aarav asked, startled.
Vardaan did not answer directly.
"Finish your morning tasks," he said. "Then we go."
😂 Kiran and the Half-Lie
On his way to the fields with a bundle of fodder, Aarav nearly bumped into Kiran.
"Oi!" Kiran yelped, jumping back. "Trying to knock my soul out of my body so it can go to the gods early?"
"You don't have enough soul to knock out," Aarav said, managing a small smile.
Kiran grinned, then narrowed his eyes.
"You've been strange since yesterday," he said. "First you disappear half the day, then suddenly you're talking like a grown-up at the river, making everyone listen. Since when do you give speeches?"
Aarav felt his ears heat up.
"It just… happened," he muttered.
Kiran leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Did someone teach you those words? Like one of those wandering saints?"
Aarav hesitated.
Yes. An ancient rishi who says I'm a walking battlefield between Dharma and Adharma, he thought.
Out loud he said:
"I… met a traveler. He asked about the river. We talked."
"Oh," Kiran said, satisfied a little too quickly. "So now you're wise."
He nudged Aarav with his elbow.
"When you become a big rishi, don't forget us normal people, okay?"
"Shut up," Aarav said, but he was smiling.
After they parted ways, the smile faded.
He didn't like hiding the truth from Kiran.
But how could he explain world-cracks and inner flames without sounding mad?
The warmth in his chest fluttered uneasily.
"Later," he told it silently. "One thing at a time."
🪨 Back to the Tear
By midday, Aarav walked with Vardaan back through the narrow rocky path beyond the fields.
The same boulders.
The same dry plants.
But the air felt different here now.
Colder.
Thicker.
When they stepped between the two big rocks and reached the small open space, Aarav saw it at once.
The crack was bigger.
Yesterday it had been a thin line, like a scratch in glass.
Today it was as wide as his hand.
It glowed faintly, threads of pale light running along its edges.
Behind it, he could see that same not-quite-darkness—a depth that didn't belong to this world.
A faint sound came from it.
Like stone grinding on stone.
Like teeth.
Aarav swallowed.
"It… grew," he whispered.
"Yes," Vardaan said.
"Why?" Aarav asked.
"Because Adharma is being fed," Vardaan replied. "By fear. By anger. By thousands of small selfish acts spilling across the world. Every lie, every cruelty—it tugs at the cloth."
He gestured at the crack.
"And the tear widens."
Aarav felt the two-colored flame in his chest react.
Inside, he saw the inner room again.
The flame leaned toward the crack's direction, twitching like a compass needle.
Gold side anxious.
Black side curious.
The door at the back of the room shook faintly, as if the shadow-self behind it had felt the same pull.
His hands trembled a little.
"Rishi-ji," he said quietly, "what happens if it opens all the way?"
Vardaan's face was serious.
"Then what belongs on the other side can walk freely into this world," he said. "Not just shadows in rivers. Things with teeth. With hunger. With minds shaped by pure Adharma."
A low, almost inaudible sound came from the crack.
Aarav's skin prickled.
"Like… demons?" he asked.
"Not in the storybook sense," Vardaan said. "But close enough for now."
🌫️ The First Emergence
The glow along the crack's edges brightened suddenly.
The sound of grinding stone grew sharper.
The air temperature dropped so fast Aarav could see his own breath in front of his face.
His chest flame burned hotter, as if trying to fight the cold from the inside.
"It's doing something," he whispered.
"Yes," Vardaan said, lifting his staff. "Stand behind me. But do not close your inner eyes. Today, you must see what comes."
Aarav swallowed and did as he was told.
The crack pulsed.
Then it… bent.
Not the rock.
Not the air.
The crack itself bent outward, like a split in cloth being pushed from the other side.
Something pressed against it from beyond.
The glowing line stretched, strained.
Then split.
A black shape pushed through.
At first, it had no clear outline—
just a dense knot of shadow, wrong-looking against the daylight.
Then it tugged itself free of the crack, falling onto the ground in front of them.
The crack shrank slightly, as if relieved.
The thing that came through lay still for a moment.
Then it unfolded.
🐺 The Adharmic Beast
It stood on four legs, but they were too long, joints bent a little the wrong way.
Its body was made of shadow-thick smoke, swirling slowly like ink in water.
Its head was low and narrow, with no mouth Aarav could see—
just a wide, smooth face.
Where eyes should have been, there were empty hollows filled with red mist, swirling and changing shape.
Aarav's stomach clenched.
"It's like the shadow from the river grew a body," he whispered.
"Yes," Vardaan said. "A Shadrik. A small hunter from beyond the cracks."
"Small?" Aarav said weakly.
"It is nothing compared to what can come later," Vardaan said.
The Shadrik lifted its head.
A low, almost subsonic growl shook the air.
Its empty, mist-filled gaze turned toward Aarav.
It inhaled deeply, even though it had no nose.
Aarav felt something tug inside his chest.
"The flame—!" he choked.
"Yes," Vardaan said quickly. "It smells the Adharma in you… and the Dharma. Both are food to it, in different ways."
The beast took a step forward.
Where its feet touched the ground, the earth darkened. Little cracks spread like thin black lines.
"Aarav," Vardaan said calmly, "do not run."
"I'm not planning to fly, Rishi-ji," Aarav said through clenched teeth.
He could feel the black side of his inner flame… react.
It rose higher, drawn to the creature like a moth to a night-lamp.
At the same time, the gold side also flared, wanting to push forward, to protect.
The two halves twisted roughly against each other.
Pain shot through Aarav's chest.
He gasped.
"It hurts—"
"Because both sides are answering the same call," Vardaan said. "This is your trial. You must choose which part leads."
The Shadrik crouched, ready to leap.
Vardaan lifted his staff.
"Om…" he chanted softly.
The sound wasn't loud.
But the air around them shimmered faintly.
A circle of subtle light formed at their feet, barely visible—like heat waves on a road.
The Shadrik paused, head twitching.
"It does not like Dharma," Vardaan said, eyes narrowed. "Good. That gives us a breath of time. Aarav."
"Yes," Aarav said hoarsely.
"You are going to try to use your inner flame," Vardaan said.
"Use it how?" Aarav demanded. "As a torch? A… stick?"
"As your true arm," Vardaan said. "Close your eyes for one breath. Feel the flame. Then open them and let that same feeling move into your real hand."
"That's it?" Aarav asked, panicked.
"For now. We are not painting scrolls, boy. We do not have time for long instructions."
The Shadrik paced just beyond the faint circle of light.
Every time it stepped closer, its outline blurred, as if something pushed it back.
But only a little.
It bunched its legs to jump.
"Aarav," Vardaan said sharply. "Now."
🔥 First Strike of the Inner Fire
Aarav sucked in a breath and shut his eyes.
The world disappeared.
The inner room appeared instantly.
The two-colored flame burned there, wild and high.
Gold and black wrapped around each other, straining in opposite directions.
"Stop," Aarav thought desperately. "Please—stop fighting. I need you to help, not tear me apart."
The gold side reached toward his plea.
The black side curled inward, whispering without words:
Power.
Let me lead.
I know how to destroy.
He remembered the crack.
The beast.
The fear in the animals.
The argument at the river.
His mother's hands, busy and tired, lighting the little lamp.
He remembered saying: I don't want to be the reason the world breaks.
"I choose Dharma," he thought, not gently this time. "I choose the gold. The black can come—but only if it listens."
The flame shook.
The black side snarled silently.
But slowly, as if pulled by an invisible thread, it twisted to stand behind the gold—no longer fighting it, but wrapping around it like a darker outline.
United—for a moment.
Aarav reached toward the flame with his awareness.
"Come to my right hand," he thought.
He imagined a path from his chest down his arm, into his palm.
The flame obeyed.
He felt heat move along his arm—not burning, but intense, like sun trapped under his skin.
"Now," Vardaan's voice echoed faintly, from far away and yet close. "Open your eyes."
Aarav did.
The Shadrik was mid-leap.
Time seemed to slow.
He saw every ripple of shadow, every swirl of red mist in its eye-hollows, every crack in the earth beneath it.
His right hand moved on its own.
He thrust it forward, palm open.
A glow burst from his skin.
Not bright white.
Not clean gold.
A stream of gold edged in black shot from his palm, twisting like a short whip of light and shadow.
It struck the Shadrik right in the chest.
🌩️ Unmaking
The beast convulsed.
Where the light touched it, its smoky body didn't just burn.
It came apart—thread by thread, like cloth being pulled into loose fibre.
It let out a sound that wasn't quite a scream and wasn't quite a roar—a deep, distorted noise that made the rocks around them tremble.
Its form blurred, losing shape, collapsing inward.
For a second, Aarav saw something inside it—
a tiny, sick-looking spark.
Not like his flame.
Duller.
Twisted.
As the gold-and-black strike flowed through it, that tiny spark flickered.
For a moment he felt something from it:
Confusion.
Hunger.
Pain.
Then it winked out.
The Shadrik exploded into a cloud of dust-like shadow.
The cloud rushed backward, sucked into the crack as if someone inhaled from the other side.
The crack itself shrank sharply, pulling its torn edges together until it was once again just a thin glowing line.
Then that line dimmed.
The air stilled.
It was over.
Aarav's knees gave out.
He fell forward onto his hands, breathing hard.
The warmth in his chest dropped, like a fire that had just spent too much fuel.
His right hand tingled and then ached, as if he'd been holding something heavy for a long time.
Vardaan knelt beside him.
"Easy," the sage said. "Do not force your breath. Let it settle."
Aarav gulped air.
"Did… did I kill it?" he asked.
"In a way," Vardaan said. "You unmade it here. Sent back what should not have crossed fully. That is what your power does when guided by Dharma."
Aarav looked up weakly at where the Shadrik had been.
Nothing remained.
Only faint black dust on the ground, already fading.
"It felt like… like I was pulling a thread out of a knot," he said. "And the knot… didn't want to let go."
"That is an accurate way to say it," Vardaan said.
"Will more come?" Aarav asked.
"Yes," Vardaan said quietly. "That was a scout. A test. The more cracks that appear, the more such creatures will slip through… and worse ones with them."
Aarav's shoulders sagged.
"So I'll have to keep… doing this?"
"Unless you would like the village—and the world—to be eaten bit by bit," Vardaan said, not unkindly.
Aarav pressed his palm to the ground.
It was still cold, but less sharp.
"What if," he said slowly, "one day… I use the black part more than the gold?"
Vardaan's gaze turned grave.
"Then, Aarav Devanshi," he said, "you may still close cracks… but you will also make new ones. You will destroy monsters… and perhaps become something they kneel to."
Aarav's mouth went dry.
He didn't want anything kneeling to him.
He wanted his village safe.
He wanted the river full again.
He wanted his mother to worry less.
He wanted Kiran to laugh without shadows behind it.
He didn't say any of that.
He just whispered:
"Then… help me not to become that."
Vardaan's hand rested briefly on his head, like a blessing.
"That," he said, "is why I am here."
He stood and offered his hand.
Aarav took it and pulled himself up.
The world looked the same as before:
rocks,
dry plants,
pale sky.
But Aarav knew it wasn't.
A crack had opened, and he had answered it.
Not as a saint.
Not as a warrior.
As a boy with a strange, two-colored flame in his chest.
And far away, in the unseen depths where Adharma flowed like a black river, something stirred again.
The loss of the Shadrik had been noticed.
The force behind the cracks turned its attention more fully now.
It did not feel fear.
It did not feel respect.
It felt… interest.
One small soul had unmade its servant.
A small soul with both gold and black in its fire.
Adharma smiled in the dark.
The game, it decided,
would have to become
much, much bigger.
✦ END OF CHAPTER ✦