The night was quiet.
Moonlight spilled gently across the small courtyard, painting the tiled ground in silver and soft shadows.
Lioran stood outside his home, facing his younger sister.
Liara.
She hadn't changed.
Her long hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight, and her eyes reflected innocence untouched by war, blood, or monsters. For a moment, Lioran simply stared at her, chest tightening with emotions he couldn't name.
Before he could speak, Liara tilted her head, confusion crossing her face.
"Bhaiya?" she said. "You were inside just a moment ago. How did you suddenly come outside?"
Lioran blinked.
His heart skipped.
Then—suddenly he remembered something.
"Oh—!" He forced a light smile, scratching the back of his head. "I just came out to see the moon. It looked… beautiful."
Liara followed his gaze upward.
The full moon hung proudly in the sky, round and radiant, its glow soft and calm—as if it had nothing to do with the horrors hidden beyond this world.
"Yeah," she said softly. "It really is beautiful."
For a moment, they stood side by side, watching the moon in silence.
Then Lioran stiffened.
"Oh—I forgot something important," he said quickly. "I'll be right back."
Before Liara could ask what, he turned and went inside.
She frowned slightly, watching his back.
"…Weird," she murmured.
He moved down the corridor, the wooden floor creaking softly under his steps. The familiar scent of home—old books, incense, and cooked rice—wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Yet even here, he couldn't fully relax.
He went inside his room and close the door quietly.
Lioran leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
That was close.
"She doesn't need to see me with him," he muttered under his breath.
Lioran turned back.
He saw someone was already inside.
Lioran saw himself in front of him.
He stood face to face with himself.
He was actually a clone of lioran
The clone sat casually on the bed, legs crossed, wearing the same clothes, the same expression—except his eyes carried a knowing calm.
"Oh," the clone said with a faint smile. "You're back."
Lioran let out a breath. "I almost forgot you were still here… living as me."
"You should be more careful," the clone replied lightly. "What if she noticed both of us together?"
"Yeah," Lioran said, sitting down heavily on the bed. "That would've been bad."
Silence fell.
Then Lioran smiled faintly.
"…But I can't explain how happy I felt seeing her."
The clone's expression softened. "Yeah. She's adorable. Seeing her smile again… it felt good. Like warmth after a long winter."
Lioran nodded slowly. "She's like a fairy. A fairy who waited for me without knowing what I was fighting."
"For you," the clone added quietly.
"For me," Lioran repeated.
The clone studied him for a moment, then spoke again. "I heard about your condition from the Ashram. How are your injuries?"
Lioran's smile faded.
"I took two serious hits," he said. "The first… a hole straight through my chest."
The clone's eyes narrowed slightly.
"But thanks to the Ashram's medicines," Lioran continued, touching his chest lightly, "it healed faster than I imagined. It barely even looks like anything happened."
"The Ashram's medical division is unmatched," the clone said. "Top-tier doctors. Top-tier Prāṇa science."
Lioran nodded, then glanced at his arm.
"…But I can't say the same for this."
He lifted his artificial arm slowly. Under the skin-colored surface, faint Prāṇa lines pulsed like veins of light.
"My real arm was… completely gone," he said quietly. "Eaten by that Narvan."
The clone didn't interrupt.
"There's no medicine that can regrow an arm," Lioran continued. "So Skanda made this—an artificial limb forged from Pranil."
"That's not something ordinary warriors get," the clone said. "You know that."
"I know," Lioran replied. "Which makes it heavier."
He clenched his artificial fingers. They moved perfectly—but still felt unfamiliar.
"This arm will remind me every day… of my weakness."
The clone stood up.
"Then don't forget why you lost it," he said. "Not for fear. Not for pride. But to protect."
Lioran looked up.
The clone smiled. "Looks like my job here is done. I'll leave things to you now."
Lioran stood.
He took a small blade from his desk and made a shallow cut on his finger.
A single drop of blood welled up.
"Thank you," Lioran said softly.
He placed the drop onto the clone's chest.
The clone began to glow.
Light wrapped around his form, his body stiffening, shrinking, reshaping—until slowly, he transformed into a small wooden doll, carved with simple features.
Lioran picked it up gently and put it inside his desk drawer.
Lioran lay down on his bed.
The ceiling stared back at him.
He closed his eyes.
Instantly—
The battlefield returned.
The black void.
Kroor's laughter.
Blood splashing the walls.
Sharin and Aishwarya lying motionless.
He gasped.
His eyes flew open.
Sweat poured down his face. His breathing turned erratic.
He clutched his chest, forcing himself to inhale slowly.
"In… out… in… out…"
But the images didn't fade.
They burned into his mind.
Suddenly—
"Bhaiya!" Liara's voice called from the living room. "Dinner is ready! Come fast or it'll get cold!"
Lioran swallowed.
"I'm coming!" he replied, forcing steadiness into his voice.
He stood and walked toward the door.
His hand reached for the handle—
And the image flashed again.
Kroor grabbing Sharin and Aishwarya by the neck.
Their feet kicking helplessly.
Their eyes wide with fear.
Lioran staggered backward.
His heart pounded violently.
He pressed his back against the wall, breathing hard.
"What… what is happening to me?" he whispered.
His hands trembled.
Fear.
Guilt.
Helplessness.
TO BE CONTINUED...