The chains shattered.
Light exploded.
His mother's eyes opened.
Bharat stumbled back, divine energy draining from him like water from a broken dam. His vision blurred—golden script flickering, dying, like candles in the wind.
COST DEDUCTED: 10 days lifespan
Remaining: 5 days, 18 hours
WARNING: Critical threshold approaching
Next divine action may trigger cascade failure
Five days.
Less than a week.
Enough time to find the Unmade City.
Or die trying.
But she was free.
His mother hung suspended in the air for one impossible moment—golden light wrapping around her like a cocoon—then gravity remembered her. She fell.
Bharat caught her.
Barely.
His legs buckled. They both went down—him on his knees, her in his arms. She weighed almost nothing. Like holding a skeleton wrapped in skin. Her body was cold. Too cold. Like she'd been frozen for twenty years and someone had just pressed defrost.
"Bharat?"
Her voice was a whisper. Cracked. Dry.
Like she'd forgotten how to speak.
He couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Could only stare.
She looked exactly like the photo—same face, same eyes, same delicate bone structure that made her look like something carved from ivory. But older now. Thinner. Her hair was gray at the temples, skin lined with suffering, eyes that had seen too much darkness.
"Ma," he managed.
The word broke something in him.
She smiled.
Touched his face.
"You survived."
Her fingers were skeletal. Trembling.
"That's all that matters."
Then she collapsed.
Unconscious.
Barely breathing.
Bharat caught her again.
"No no no—"
"She's alive," Dev's voice from behind. "Just exhausted. Twenty years of binding will do that."
Bharat didn't turn around.
Didn't acknowledge him.
Just held his mother.
Like letting go would kill her.
Outside, a scream.
Mira.
Bharat's head snapped up.
"What's happening?"
"The mark," Dev said quietly. "It's destabilizing. Your mother's release triggered a cascade—all bindings linked to the original contract are breaking down simultaneously."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning Mira has about three minutes before the mark consumes her entirely."
Bharat stood.
Laid his mother down gently.
"Stay with her."
"Bharat—"
"I said stay."
He ran.
Out of the temple.
Into chaos.
Mira was on her knees.
Screaming.
The mark on her chest had spread—no longer just golden script, now it covered her entire torso, crawling up her neck, branching down her arms like burning veins. Light poured from her skin. So bright Vikram and his men had backed away, shielding their eyes.
"Mira!"
Bharat ran to her. Dropped to his knees.
She didn't see him.
Didn't hear him.
Just screamed.
Her eyes were gold.
Completely gold.
Like someone had poured molten metal into her skull.
"What's happening to her?" Bharat shouted.
Peacock's voice, panicked:
[PEACOCK]: The binding's trying to complete! It's forcing Stage 3—autonomy erasure. If it finishes, she becomes a puppet. Mind, body, will—all controlled by Dev.
[BHARAT]: How do I stop it?
[PEACOCK]: You can't. Not without breaking the contract.
[BHARAT]: Then I break it.
[PEACOCK]: You'll kill her! The binding is tied to her life force—remove it forcibly and her heart stops!
"Then what do I do?"
[PEACOCK]: You... share the load.
[BHARAT]: What?
[PEACOCK]: Divine contracts respond to willpower. If you establish a sympathetic link—share her pain—you can stabilize the mark long enough for me to find a workaround.
[BHARAT]: How?
[PEACOCK]: Physical contact. Divine authority. And a shit-ton of pain tolerance.
Bharat grabbed her hands.
They were burning.
Literally burning.
Her skin was hot enough to blister.
He activated the Codex.
Maximum output.
Divine authority flooding through him—into her—linking their nervous systems like two wires touching.
INITIATING: Sympathetic Bond (Emergency Protocol)
Cost: 3 days lifespan + pain transfer (100%)
Warning: Host will experience target's suffering in real-time
Proceed? Y/N
He pressed YES.
The pain hit like a truck.
No.
Like a train.
A train made of fire and broken glass.
Bharat screamed.
Mira screamed.
Together.
Like their voices were braided.
It felt like his chest was being torn open.
Like someone had shoved a hand inside his ribcage and was squeezing his heart.
Like every nerve in his body was being set on fire simultaneously.
He could feel the mark eating her from the inside—divine script burning through her flesh, rewriting her cells, trying to turn her into something else.
Something not-Mira.
"Hold on," he gasped.
"I can't—"
"Yes you can."
"Bharat it hurts—"
"I know. I feel it."
The pain intensified.
Doubled.
Tripled.
Like the mark knew he was interfering and was fighting back.
SYMPATHETIC BOND: ACTIVE
Pain distribution: 50/50
Duration: Limited by host stamina
New countdown: 2 days, 18 hours
Two days.
He'd just spent three days buying her minutes.
Worth it.
The golden light began to dim.
Mira's screaming faded to gasps.
Her eyes flickered—gold to brown to gold to brown—like a lightbulb dying.
"Stay with me," Bharat whispered.
"I'm trying—"
"Look at me."
She did.
Brown eyes.
Still hers.
Still Mira.
"You're not alone," he said.
"I can feel you," she whispered. "Inside my head. Your pain. Your fear."
"Good. Then you know I'm not leaving."
The mark pulsed.
One final surge.
Like a dying animal lashing out.
They both screamed.
Bharat's vision went white.
He felt something tear inside him—not physical, deeper—like a piece of his soul being ripped out.
Then:
Silence.
The light faded.
The mark stabilized.
Mira collapsed into his arms.
They stayed there.
On the sand.
Breathing.
Alive.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Don't thank me yet."
"Why?"
"Because I just made it worse."
She pulled back.
Looked at him.
Saw the truth in his eyes.
"How much worse?"
"Two days. I have two days left."
"Bharat—"
"It's fine."
"It's not fine!"
"It is if it saved you."
Pause.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"Probably."
"A beautiful idiot."
"Definitely."
She kissed him.
Long.
Desperate.
Like she was trying to pour her gratitude into his mouth.
When they broke apart, Dev was standing over them.
"Touching," he said. "Really. But we have a problem."
Bharat stood.
Helped Mira up.
"What kind of problem?"
"The kind where you just painted a target on both your backs."
"Explain."
Dev pulled out his phone.
Showed them a message.
FROM: UNKNOWN
"Binding disruption detected. Temple of the Unborn Vow. Divine signature matches: Bharat Singh.
Retrieval team dispatched.
ETA: 28 minutes."
"Who sent this?" Bharat asked.
"The people who own the contract. The ones who paid me to keep your mother alive."
Pause.
"The Singh family."
"Rajan."
"Not just Rajan. The entire network. Priests, mercenaries, divine contractors. They all want you dead now."
"Why now?"
"Because you broke the binding. Proved you're strong enough to be a threat."
Pause.
"And because your mother is awake."
Bharat's blood went cold.
"What does she know?"
"Everything."
Dev looked at the temple.
At the woman lying unconscious inside.
"She knows who cursed you. She knows why. She knows where the Unmade City is."
Pause.
"And if Rajan finds out she's talking, he'll burn this entire desert to shut her up."
"Then we move her."
"To where?"
"Anywhere that's not here."
Dev shook his head.
"You don't understand. She's been bound for twenty years. Her body is fragile. Moving her now could kill her."
"Leaving her here will definitely kill her."
"Not necessarily."
Pause.
"I have a proposal," Dev said.
"I'm listening."
"Give me the Oath-Gold location. The real one. The information your mother has."
"In exchange for what?"
"Safe passage. For all of you. I have connections. People who can hide you until this blows over."
"And if I say no?"
"Then you're on your own. No resources. No backup. Just you, a dying woman, and twenty-eight minutes before an army shows up."
Bharat looked at Mira.
She was pale.
Shaking.
The mark still glowing faintly beneath her shirt.
"There's another option," Dev said quietly.
"Which is?"
"Leave. Both of you. Right now. I'll stay with your mother. Protect her. Buy you time to find the City."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I owe her."
Pause.
"But there's a condition."
Bharat's jaw tightened.
"Of course there is."
"You leave Mira behind."
Silence.
"What?" Mira's voice, sharp.
"You're a liability," Dev said, looking at her. "The mark makes you trackable. Everywhere you go, they'll follow."
"Then remove the mark."
"I can't. Not without killing you."
"Then I'll risk it."
"Mira—"
"I'm not leaving him."
Dev's expression hardened.
"This isn't a request. It's a business transaction."
He looked at Bharat.
"I give you the Oath-Gold location. I protect your mother. I keep Mira alive."
Pause.
"In exchange, you walk away. Alone. No contact. No looking back."
"You want me to abandon her."
"I want you to save her."
"By leaving?"
"By not dragging her into a suicide mission."
Pause.
"The Unmade City will kill you, Bharat. You know that. Two days of life left—you won't survive the journey, let alone the trials inside."
"Maybe."
"Definitely."
"Then why do you care?"
Dev looked at him.
Really looked.
Like he was seeing someone else.
"Because your mother asked me to."
Pause.
"Twenty years ago, when I locked her in that temple, she made me promise one thing."
"What?"
"That if you ever came looking for her, I'd do everything in my power to keep you alive."
Pause.
"Even if it meant lying. Even if it meant using Mira. Even if it meant breaking your heart."
Bharat's hands clenched.
"You've been manipulating me from the start."
"Yes."
"Using Mira as bait."
"Yes."
"Lying about everything."
"Yes."
Pause.
"But I kept my promise. You're still alive."
Bharat looked at Mira.
She was crying.
Silent tears.
Like she'd been holding them back for hours.
"Don't do this," she said quietly.
"Mira—"
"Don't you dare walk away."
"If I don't—"
"Then we die together."
Pause.
"I'd rather die with you than live without you."
Bharat's throat tightened.
"You don't mean that."
"Yes I do."
"Mira—"
"I love you, you idiot."
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
True.
Terrifying.
"I love you," she repeated. "And I'm not letting you do this alone."
Dev stepped forward.
"Bharat, be smart. Take the deal."
"No."
"You'll both die."
"Maybe."
"Not maybe. Guaranteed."
Bharat looked at him.
"You want to know what my mother told me?"
"What?"
"Before she passed out. She whispered something."
Pause.
"She said, 'Don't trust Dev. He's been paid twice. Once by Rajan. Once by someone else.'"
Dev went still.
"She's delirious—"
"Is she?"
Pause.
"Who else is paying you, Dev?"
Silence.
"Who. Else."
Dev's hand moved to his jacket.
Bharat's divine sight flared—saw the outline of a gun hidden there.
"Don't," Bharat said quietly.
"I'm trying to save you."
"By threatening me?"
"By giving you a choice."
Pause.
"Last chance, Bharat. Take the deal. Leave Mira. Save your mother. Or stay, and watch everyone you love die."
Bharat looked at Mira.
At her tear-streaked face.
At the mark glowing beneath her shirt.
At the way she was looking at him—like he was the only solid thing in a world that wouldn't stop shaking.
He made his choice.
"We're leaving," he said.
"Bharat—"
"All of us. Together."
He looked at Dev.
"You want to stop me? Shoot me. But I'm not abandoning her."
Dev's hand tightened on the gun.
Bharat could see it in his divine vision—finger moving to the trigger.
Then:
A voice from the temple.
"Dev."
Bharat's mother.
Standing in the doorway.
Barely.
Leaning against the frame like it was the only thing holding her up.
"Let them go."
Dev turned.
"You should be resting—"
"I've been resting for twenty years."
Her voice was stronger now.
Sharper.
Like waking up had reminded her how to be angry.
"Let. Them. Go."
Dev's hand dropped.
"They'll die."
"Maybe. But it's their choice."
She looked at Bharat.
"Come here."
He walked to her.
Slowly.
Like approaching something holy.
She touched his face.
"You look like your father."
"Don't."
"It's true. Same eyes. Same stubborn jaw."
Pause.
"But you're not him. You're better."
"Ma—"
"Listen. I don't have much time."
"What do you mean?"
"The binding kept me alive. Now that it's broken, I'm dying. Slowly. Maybe I have a week. Maybe less."
"No—"
"It's okay. I've been dead for twenty years anyway."
She smiled.
Sad.
Tired.
"But before I go, I need to tell you the truth."
Pause.
"About Rajan. About the curse. About why you're dying."
Bharat sat down beside her.
Mira joined them.
Vikram and his men kept watch.
Dev stood apart.
Listening.
"Twenty-one years ago," she began, "I was a temple dancer. Low caste. Expendable. I worked at a private estate owned by the Singh family."
Pause.
"Rajan was there. Young. Arrogant. Used to getting what he wanted."
"He raped you."
The words came out flat.
Final.
"Yes."
She didn't flinch.
Just nodded.
"Multiple times. Over months. I tried to run. He had his men bring me back."
"Then I got pregnant."
Pause.
"With you."
Bharat's hands clenched.
"What did he do?"
"He panicked. An illegitimate child—especially one from a low-caste woman—would ruin his inheritance. So he made a deal with a dying god."
"What kind of deal?"
"He offered the god a sacrifice. Your life. In exchange for power."
Pause.
"The god agreed. Cursed you before you were even born. Sixteen years of life. Then death."
"But I survived."
"Yes. Because I ran."
"Where?"
"Everywhere. Temples. Villages. Hiding. Always hiding."
"Then my family found me."
Pause.
"Rajan's men?"
"Yes."
"What did they do?"
Her voice cracked.
"They killed them. My mother. My father. My little brother."
Pause.
"Made me watch."
Bharat felt something cold settle in his chest.
"And you?"
"They were going to kill me too. But Dev intervened."
She looked at Dev.
"Rajan had paid him. Told him to make me disappear. Quietly."
"But you didn't kill her," Bharat said.
"No," Dev said quietly. "I couldn't."
"Why?"
"Because she was pregnant. And I'm not a murderer."
Pause.
"So I made a counter-deal. Bound her to the temple. Kept her alive. Told Rajan she was dead."
"And took his money anyway."
"Yes."
Pause.
"But someone found out."
Bharat's mother nodded.
"Another player. Someone who wanted leverage over both Rajan and Dev."
"Who?"
She looked at him.
"I don't know their name. But I know what they want."
"What?"
"The Unmade City."
Pause.
"They've been searching for it for decades. The Oath-Gold inside can rewrite divine contracts. Make someone a god. Or kill one."
"Where is it?"
She reached into her robe.
Pulled out a small brass key.
Different from the one Rajan had given him.
Older.
Covered in script.
"The entrance isn't a place," she said.
"Then what is it?"
"A person."
Pause.
"Rajan."
Silence.
"The City is inside him?" Bharat asked.
"Not inside. Behind. The entrance is tied to his life force. You want to reach the City—"
She looked at him.
Cold.
Final.
"You have to kill him."