: The Battle for His Soul
Dawn in the secluded valley was a slow, grey affair. A thick, cold mist clung to the pine trees, muffling all sound, turning the world into a ghostly, silent stage. Inside the hunting lodge, the air was thick with a tension so sharp it felt like it could draw blood.
They moved with the silence of shadows.
Alok took his position outside the heavy wooden door of the master chamber, his talisman-wrapped dagger held ready. His face was a mask of concentration. Virendra stood opposite him, muscles coiled, his breathing slow and controlled. Mrinal was a step behind Virendra, her entire body a tightly strung bow, her eyes fixed on the door. Aaditya stood slightly apart, his eyes closed, centering himself, gathering every ounce of love, every memory, every shared laugh and silent understanding into a weapon of pure will.
Aaditya gave a single, sharp nod.
Virendra slammed his shoulder into the door.
The wood, old and solid, splintered inward with a crash that tore through the morning silence.
The scene inside was a frozen tableau of horror. Devansh was standing by the window, Vani already in his hands, as if he had been waiting for them. His eyes were not just cold; they were blazing with a hellish, internal crimson light. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest, a sound that belonged to no human throat.
"NOW, ALOK!" Virendra roared, surging into the room.
Alok didn't hesitate. He slammed his dagger into the wooden floor just inside the doorway. As the point struck, the talisman flared with a brilliant, blinding silver light. The light didn't just glow; it flowed, racing along the seams of the doorframe and the windowsill, creating a shimmering, argent barrier that sealed the room with a soft hum of pure energy.
The effect on Devansh was instantaneous and violent. He recoiled from the light with a snarl of pure agony, the red aura around him flickering as if doused with acid. "FILTH!" he screamed, his voice layered with the dissonant shriek of the Rakshas.
Virendra used that moment of distraction. He lunged, not for Vani, but for Devansh himself, aiming to tackle him, to pin him down. But Devansh moved with unnatural speed. He swung Vani like a club. The ancient veena, imbued with the Rakshas's power, didn't just connect; it released a concussive wave of red energy that threw Virendra back against the wall with a sickening thud. He slid to the floor, dazed but struggling to rise.
"DEVANSH! LOOK AT ME!"
Aaditya's voice cut through the chaos, not a shout, but a command imbued with all the force of his heart. He stood his ground in the center of the room, his hands open and empty, his crimson eyes locked on his friend's demonic gaze.
Devansh's head snapped towards him, the red light in his eyes pulsing with hatred.
"It's me, Dev! Aaditya!" he cried out, his voice raw with emotion. "Remember the Surya Mela! You played the Raga of Fire and I couldn't look away! You told me my eyes held the warmth your music had been searching for!"
He took a step forward, ignoring the danger, his focus absolute. "Remember the ruins! You played the Raga of Light and I fought beside you! Back to back! You trusted me with your life!"
A flicker. A tremor in the hand holding Vani. The red light in his eyes wavered, and for a terrifying second, Aaditya saw a glimpse of sheer, unadulterated terror in the blue depths beneath. The real Devansh was in there, screaming.
The Rakshas felt its hold slip. With a shriek of fury, it retaliated. A whip of solidified crimson energy lashed out from Vani, aimed directly at Aaditya's heart.
Mrinal moved.
She didn't shout, didn't hesitate. As the red energy crackled towards Aaditya, she threw herself forward. Her target was not Devansh, but Vani. Her hands, protected by thick leather gloves, closed around the veena's neck and resonating gourd.
The moment she touched it, a jolt of pure, malevolent agony shot up her arms. It was like grabbing lightning. The red energy intended for Aaditya splashed over her instead. She cried out, her body convulsing as the corrupting power sought to invade her, but her grip, forged in a lifetime of discipline, held fast.
"DEVANSH, PLEASE!" Aaditya screamed, his voice breaking. "FIGHT IT! I'M HERE! I'M RIGHT HERE!"
The combined assault—the painful silver light of the barrier, Aaditya's desperate, loving voice, and the physical struggle for its anchor—sent the Rakshas into a frenzy. The room became a maelstrom of conflicting energies. Silver light flared at the boundaries. Red energy lashed out wildly, shattering a table, scorching the walls.
And in the eye of the storm, Devansh stood, his body a battleground. His face was a contorted mask of conflicting expressions—one second a snarl of inhuman rage, the next a glimpse of agonizing recognition and soul-deep fear.
Mrinal, her teeth gritted against the pain searing through her, used all her strength to wrench Vani from his grasp.
It was like trying to pull a tree from stone-hard ground. The Rakshas did not let go. It held on through him.
With a final, monumental heave, fueled by the sight of Aaditya's tear-streaked face and the sound of his broken pleas, she pulled.
Vani came free.
The sound it made was not of wood leaving a grip. It was the sound of a universe tearing in half. A silent, psychic SCREECH that everyone in the room felt in the marrow of their bones.
The moment the connection was severed, the red aura around Devansh vanished. The hellish light in his eyes extinguished.
He didn't collapse. He just... stood there. Empty. His eyes, now their natural, beautiful blue, were wide with a horror so profound it was beyond comprehension. He looked at his own empty hands, then at Aaditya, then at Mrinal holding the now-dormant Vani. He looked like a man who had just woken up to find himself standing over a murder he didn't remember committing.
A single, ragged word escaped his lips, a whisper of pure, shattered terror.
"...Aadi...?"
And then his legs gave way. Aaditya was there in an instant, catching him as he fell, holding his trembling, broken form against his chest. The battle was over. The Rakshas had been separated from its host.
But as Aaditya held his friend, looking over his shoulder at the corrupted veena in Mrinal's hands, he knew the war was far from won. They had rescued the prisoner, but the monster was still in the room, and it was now cornered, furious, and looking for a new way to survive. The silence that followed was more terrifying than the storm.