Darkness wrapped around me like a shroud. I wasn't awake, not truly — my body lay somewhere far away, broken and bandaged. Here, inside my mind, the silence was heavy, broken only by the echoes of memory.
The ballroom returned in fragments. Screams. Fire. Blood. My classmates' faces twisted in terror, their voices begging for salvation. And me, blade in hand, cutting them down when they turned.
I fought… but did I save?
The thought gnawed at me. I could still see Mira's eyes, wide with fear, pleading for help before the corruption consumed her. I could still hear Rohan's voice, shouting my name before my blade silenced him.
I could have done better, I whispered to myself in the void. I could have moved faster, shielded more, hesitated less. Maybe they wouldn't have died. Maybe I wouldn't carry their screams inside me now.
The regret was a poison, slow and relentless. Dolomir was gone, but the echoes of their deaths remained.
And then, another voice stirred within me. Calm, resonant, timeless.
"Rudra," the voice said, filling the darkness with warmth and gravity. "How was your first fight?"
I knew that voice. Lord Vishnu. The preserver, the eternal guide. His presence was not thunderous but steady, like the river that carves mountains over centuries.
I swallowed, though my throat was dry even in this dream. My first fight… it was chaos. I was broken, bleeding, terrified. I fought, but I don't know if I won. Dolomir is gone, but at what cost?
Vishnu's voice was patient. "You fought as mortals do — with fear, with hesitation, with courage born of desperation. That is not weakness. That is the beginning."
I clenched my fists, though they trembled. The beginning? My classmates are dead. If this is only the beginning, what horrors lie ahead?
"The path of dharma is never gentle," Vishnu replied. "You faced despair itself and lived. That is no small feat. But the battles will grow harder. The enemies will grow stronger. And so must you."
His words struck me like a blade. Stronger… I barely survived. How can I train when my body is shattered?
"You will heal," Vishnu said firmly. "And when you do, you must train as though every breath is borrowed. Sharpen your blade, strengthen your spirit. Learn not only to fight, but to endure."
I turned my head in the dream, staring at the faint light that seemed to filter through the void. Endure… yes. But what of joy? What of life beyond battle?
Vishnu's tone softened. "Do not forget to live, Rudra. Time is a river that flows only forward. You cannot reclaim the moments you waste. Train, yes. Prepare, yes. But also laugh, love, and cherish. For when the war ends — and it will end — what remains is not victory, but the life you have lived."
His words pierced deeper than Dolomir's claws. Cherish… but how do I cherish when guilt consumes me?
"Regret is natural," Vishnu said. "But do not let it chain you. You regret killing your classmates, but remember — they were already lost. You regret not saving them, but you saved yourself. Survival is not shame. It is duty. Honor the fallen, but protect the living."
I felt tears sting my eyes, even in this dream. I wanted to save everyone.
"No warrior saves everyone," Vishnu replied gently. "Even gods cannot. You are mortal, Rudra. Accept your limits, and strive beyond them. That is the essence of growth."
The darkness shifted, and I saw flashes — the ballroom drenched in fire, the faces of the fallen, the moment Dolomir dissolved into ash.
Vishnu's presence lingered, a quiet reassurance. "You have taken your first step. Do not falter. The world will demand more of you, but you are not alone. Remember — strength without joy is hollow. Train as though tomorrow is war, but live as though today is a gift."
The voice faded, leaving me with my thoughts.
I lay in the void, exhausted, but beneath the pain and regret, a spark remained. A spark of defiance. A spark of hope.
The holocaust of the ballroom had not ended me. It had scarred me, yes, but scars are proof of survival.
I whispered into the darkness, my voice steady. "I'll train. I'll endure. And I'll live. For them. For me. For what's to come."
And in the quiet of my unconscious mind, I felt the faintest warmth — as though Vishnu himself smiled.
---
The warmth faded, replaced by weight.
The first thing I felt was the sheets pressing against my chest, heavy as stone. My body screamed with every breath, but the silence around me was louder than the pain. Slowly, I forced my eyes open.
White light flooded my vision. The ceiling above was sterile, unfamiliar. The faint hum of machines filled the room. For a moment, I thought I was alone.
Then I saw them.
Amanda stood closest, her gown torn, her side wrapped in thick bandages. Her face was pale, lips cracked, but her eyes — her eyes still burned with that same fire. She leaned against the bedframe, one hand pressed to her ribs, watching me as though afraid I might vanish.
Sammy was beside her, his arm bound in a sling, his chest wrapped tight. His face was bruised, blood crusted at the corner of his mouth. Yet he managed a weak smile when our eyes met.
Talia sat in a chair, her leg elevated, blistered skin peeking out from beneath the gauze. Her face was swollen, but her gaze was steady, unwavering.
All three of them were critically injured. All three of them were alive.
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry. "You… you're here."
Amanda's voice was hoarse, but fierce. "Of course we are. You think we'd leave you?"
Sammy chuckled weakly, then winced at the pain. "You look worse than all of us combined. But… you're awake. That's what matters."
Talia leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. "We thought you wouldn't open your eyes again. We thought we'd lost you."
I swallowed hard, guilt pressing against my chest. "I should've protected you better. I should've—"
Amanda cut me off, her eyes flashing. "Don't. Don't you dare blame yourself. We fought together. We survived together. That's enough."
Sammy nodded, his smile fading into seriousness. "Dolomir wanted despair. He wanted us broken. But we're still here. That's victory, Rudra."
Talia's gaze softened. "We're scarred, yes. But scars mean we lived."
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting their words sink in. The images of the ballroom still haunted me — the screams, the blood, the faces of those I couldn't save. But here, in this hospital room, I saw something stronger than despair.
I saw survival.
Amanda reached out, her hand trembling, and placed it over mine. "We'll heal. Slowly, painfully, but we'll heal. And when we do… we'll be ready for whatever comes next."
Sammy's voice was quiet, but resolute. "We'll train harder. We'll fight smarter. We'll make sure no one else falls the way they did."
Talia whispered, almost to herself. "We'll carry the weight together."
I opened my eyes again, meeting each of their gazes. Broken, bleeding, scarred — but alive.
And for the first time since the ballroom, I felt something stir inside me. Not despair. Not guilt.
Hope