Avi's eyes fluttered open. The world around him was harshly bright and sterile, the smell of antiseptic biting at his nose. A faint beeping from the monitor beside his bed marked the slow rhythm of life.
A nurse moved silently, adjusting the saline hanging from the pole.
"Where am I?" Avi croaked. His voice was dry and weak. His chest ached, but it was more than physical. Something alive, cold and coiled, pulsed inside him, reminding him of the night before.
"You are in the hospital," the nurse replied gently. "You need to rest."
Avi's hands shook as he flexed his fingers and pressed lightly to his chest. The phantom weight of the swords burned beneath his skin. It should have been impossible, yet the sensation was real.
"I… what happened?" he whispered, voice trembling.
"Shh. Rest for now," she said, glancing toward the door. "I am going to call the doctor."
Avi turned his gaze to the window. Beyond the glass, the city lights stretched into the night. The river, the mist, the faceless woman, Yakshini flashed through his mind. Was it real, or a fevered hallucination?
He felt the weight of something inside him, alive and insistent, as if waiting to be used.
The door creaked. A man in a crisp police uniform stepped inside, authoritative and calm.
"I am ASP Suryawanshi," he said, voice firm.
Avi stared at him in silence.
"How are you feeling?" the officer asked.
"Good, I think," Avi muttered, still trying to collect himself.
"What were you doing last night? Were you alone?" Suryawanshi continued, flipping open a small folder.
Avi hesitated. "Yes, I was alone. I was drinking," he admitted, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach.
The officer slid a few photographs across the bed. Avi leaned forward, his eyes scanning the images of two lifeless bodies.
"Do you know any of them?" Suryawanshi asked.
"No," Avi whispered.
"There was a gang war last night," the officer explained, voice calm but precise. "Two people were killed, exactly opposite the river where you were found. You were alone, near the scene. You are considered a suspect. You do not have permission to leave town until this is clarified."
He straightened his uniform and began to leave. Then he paused and glanced back at Avi.
"Nice tattoo," he said, nodding toward Avi's right shoulder.
Avi followed his finger. His breath caught. A glowing, chakra-like mark was etched into his skin. He had never seen it before. Panic surged through him. Whatever had happened last night, Yakshini, the mist, the swords was no dream.
Suryawanshi left without another word, and Avi was left staring at the glowing mark, heart hammering, mind racing. The world felt alive, dangerous, and unfamiliar. Something inside him had changed forever.
Night fell. The hospital quieted. The corridors emptied. Shadows pooled in corners, stretching unnaturally. Then, piercing the silence, came a scream.
Avi jolted awake. His eyes darted around the room. The bed. The door. The empty hall outside. No one was there.
Another scream, sharper, closer. It came from the corridor.
His chest tightened as he stood. The weight in his body stirred again. Slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped into the hall.
Empty.
The fluorescent lights flickered. Curtains swayed though there was no breeze. The scream returned, this time accompanied by a softer voice.
"Shuush…"
A woman's voice, calm and steady, filled the space.
"It is fine. Everything is fine. It is not that bad."
Someone was crying.
Avi followed the sound. Each step felt heavier, as if the corridor stretched endlessly. The hospital seemed alive, breathing with a rhythm that did not belong to the mortal world.
The voice led him to a closed door. He hesitated. Then, trembling, he pushed it open.
Inside, a young woman lay on the floor, no older than her early twenties. Her face was pale, eyes wide with shock. She looked up at Avi as he entered.
"I am sorry," he said quickly. "I heard screaming and thought…"
She did not respond. Instead, her gaze fixed on the far corner of the room.
"Do not cry," she said softly. "It is time to go back now. Come on."
Her tone was gentle, almost tender.
Avi followed her eyes and froze.
In the corner hovered a shapeless, twisting form. A human soul stripped of its body, its essence incomplete and fragile. It trembled, emitting a sound that was more sorrow than pain, more despair than fear.
Avi staggered backward, hitting the wall with a dull thud.
The young woman turned sharply toward him. Her expression was firm, expectant.
"Are you new?" she asked.
Avi could not speak. His throat was tight. His eyes remained locked on the formless soul.
She sighed, a note of exasperation in her voice.
"Can you not see?" she continued. "I am trying to return her to the Soul World."
Avi's heartbeat thundered in his ears. The hospital lights flickered, shadows crawling along the walls.
And in that moment, he understood.
The world Yakshini had shown him had not stayed behind in the mist. It had followed him into the mortal world. And now, Avi was no longer just a man. He was a bridge between the living and the lost, between what was and what was yet to come.