The silence in the house was heavier than the grief. Rudra's grandfather was gone, and with him, the last spark of safety they had ever known.
In the middle of the dimly lit room, Sai and Jaswanth were broken. Sai's shoulders shook with silent sobs, while Jaswanth stared at the wall, his eyes red and hollow. The rest of the family was gone—wiped out—leaving only the three brothers standing in the wreckage of their lives.
"We need to sleep," Rudra whispered, though his own voice felt like it was coming from miles away.
They dragged themselves to their beds, the weight of their loss pressing down on them like lead. Sai and Jaswanth eventually drifted into a restless, tear-stained sleep. But Rudra lay awake, staring into the shadows of the ceiling.
Then, the air changed. It became cold—colder than the winter outside.
A faint, blue light began to shimmer near the corner of the room. Rudra's heart hammered against his ribs as the light took shape. It was him. His Grandfather.
The old man's soul looked weary, but his eyes were sharp with urgency. He didn't waste time with comfort.
"Rudra," the spirit whispered, the sound vibrating in Rudra's very marrow. "Listen to me, my child. The time for mourning is over. The darkness is coming for you next."
Rudra tried to speak, but his throat was dry.
"Go to my room," the spirit commanded, pointing a translucent finger toward the hall. "Find my old box. Open it. Inside, you will find a book—the Book of Tantra. Read it. Learn the skills within it, or none of you will survive the night."
The light began to fade, the edges of his grandfather's soul dissolving into the mist.
"Go now. Learn... and survive. Goodbye, my child."
With a final flicker, the spirit vanished. Rudra was left alone in the dark, the name of the book echoing in his mind: The Book of Tantra.