Jackson Mansion...
Underground Prison...
The torches flickered on the old stone walls.
Chains clinked faintly as the silence of despair hung thick in the air.
Behind iron bars, Durai sat calmly, flanked by five of his loyal men—
All bloodied, bruised, but far from broken.
Across from them, lounging with a goblet of imported brandy in hand, was Brit Lee—
The man once known as Surili.
One of his childhood friends chose a different path.
"You rebels get a luxury suite, you know that?"
Brit Lee slurred, leaning back smugly on his chair.
"Special cell for special rebels to the Empire."
Durai didn't respond immediately.
He glanced at his comrades.
"____"
"____"
"____"
They nodded.
Nod~
The signal was given.
Durai stretched his arms and stood up, walking slowly toward the bars.
"So…"
He began casually, back facing Brit Lee.
"How's your wife, Surili?"
The goblet paused mid-air.
Brit Lee's eye twitched.
"Don't call me that name."
Durai ignored him.
"I heard two British officers were frequent visitors when you weren't home. Late-night visits, too."
He let out a soft chuckle.
Chuckle~
The guards nearby shifted awkwardly.
"Must be hard, isn't it? Watching your own people treat you like a pet… but never one of their own. Surili..."
Brit Lee stood up.
"I said, don't call me—!"
Durai turned slightly, still calm.
"Tell me, Surili… was it the black skin that made you switch sides? Or the fact that someone like me, lighter than their tea, chose to stand up while you crawled?"
Brit Lee's face turned red—
Then purple.
"DURAIIII! YOU BASTARD—!"
He stormed toward the cell, blindly fueled by rage.
Just as he lifted his leg to kick through the bars,
Durai's arm shot forward—
Catching the kick mid-air.
"That's the spirit."
With one brutal tug, he yanked Brit Lee's leg—
SMACK!
The man fell groin-first into the iron bars with a loud clank that echoed through the dungeon like a church bell of agony.
"My balls…!"
Brit Lee squeaked, collapsing like a sack of potatoes.
Before the guards could react,
Durai's men launched into action—
Reaching through the bars, pulling a guard's belt, grabbing a stool, anything they could.
A moment of chaos.
Controlled chaos.
Durai pulled the keys off Brit Lee's belt and unlocked the cell.
Click.
Clack. Freedom.
He took one of the heavy iron dumbbells from Brit Lee's little workout corner.
"How ironic,"
Durai muttered, raising it above his head.
THUD!
Brit Lee went unconscious with his eyes still crossed.
"Looks like you need more training, Surili."
Durai tossed the dumbbell aside and turned to his men.
"We have a flag to raise… and a tyrant to bury."
His comrades nodded.
The rebellion had just risen again.
8:58 PM...
With hurried footsteps as Durai and his remaining men stormed up the winding staircase from the underground prison.
Their eyes blazed with fury.
Their breaths were heavy—
With grief… and vengeance.
One by one, the rebels tackled and fought off the surprised British guards stationed along the way, clearing a path.
Durai's steps thudded against the floor of the corridor as he reached Jackson's grand office—
The one place he swore to reach.
With a powerful push, he slammed the door open.
"JACKSON!"
"Get out here, you coward!"
A flicker of surprise crossed Jackson's face from behind his ornate desk.
But he was ready.
Then—
BANG!
BANG! BANG!
Three gunshots rang out—
Bullets pierced into Durai's chest.
His body jerked back and crashed to the ground.
"DURAI ANNA! (Brother!)"
One of his men screamed, but was pulled back into battle.
From behind, a looming shadow stepped forward—
The bald giant, Jackson's monstrous servant, hammer in hand.
Durai tried to rise.
But—
THWACK!
The hammer struck the back of his head with a sickening crunch.
Durai collapsed to the floor, blood pooling.
Gasping for breath, he turned his face upward… towards Jackson… eyes burning through the pain.
"You can kill me… But I swear… One day… I will put you in your grave."
Jackson stepped forward, lit a cigar, and aimed again.
"Brave words, dead man."
BLAM!
BLAM! BLAM!
Durai's body went still.
"____"
But just then…
A silent red pulse—
Faint, invisible to any normal human eye—
Rippled outward from his fallen body.
It passed through the mansion.
Through its walls.
Through his dying comrades.
A pulse of unfulfilled vengeance.
A curse etched in blood.
Meanwhile...
Underground Prison....
Brit Lee, blood dripping from his head, groaned and stumbled.
"Bastard… hit like a bull…"
He mumbled, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself.
But his fingers slipped—
And with a CRASH, a small oil lamp toppled over and shattered across the floor.
The fire caught quickly—
Licking the old wooden planks, feeding hungrily.
Brit Lee blinked.
Then froze.
"____"
The flames were crawling towards the explosives storage in the far corner.
"No—no no no—!"
But it was too late.
FWOOM!
The fire ignited the stockpile.
And in a blinding fire explosion, the entire Jackson Mansion shook violently.
BOOOOOOOM!!!
The sky lit up as the mansion crumbled—
Walls split apart.
Windows shattered.
And every soul still inside… was consumed in the inferno.
The time on the cracked grandfather clock struck 9:00 PM.
9:00 PM...
Exactly.
The screen, which shows the flashback, faded to black.
A slow breath.
Then—
Rudra opened his eyes.
He was still in the Jackson Mansion's bathroom, the air heavy with silence.
"____"
His fingers were still wrapped around Amy Jackson's cold, ghostly hand.
She looked at him—
Her expression was unreadable.
Outside, the first rays of sunlight began to creep through the cracked windows, painting streaks of gold across the cracked tiles.
They had stayed like this… all night.
Amy finally let out a long, tired sigh.
Sigh~
"Go…"
"Never return here again."
"And take your companions with you."
She gently pulled her hand back and began to fade—
Her body dissolving like mist in the morning light.
And then she was gone.
Rudra stood there, alone… the silence echoing in the space she left behind.
Outside the Jackson Mansion...
As Rudra stepped out into the fresh morning air, the light was soft… the birds just beginning their morning songs.
He found Ravi sitting by the door, leaning against the wall.
His eyes were red and puffy from staying up all night, a half-finished biscuit in one hand.
"____"
He looked up, visibly relieved.
"You're finally out."
He said, his voice hoarse.
Rudra gave a small nod.
Nod~
A few feet away, Tarun and Rohit were snoring softly—
Curled up together like puppies, arms around each other.
Rohit's hand was still clutching an empty chips packet like it was a lifeline.
And next to them…
Satya and Veera were in an unholy sprawl—
Veera had somehow rolled on top of Satya, one leg tossed over his stomach, both snoring in perfect harmony like an off-tune duet.
Rudra and Ravi pulled them in.
Ravi gave them a long look and muttered,
"We dragged them in, but they still managed to sleep like that…"
Rudra chuckled tiredly, walked over, and gently nudged the sleeping pile.
Cluckle~
"Come on,"
He whispered, more to himself than them.
"It's over. For now."
The mansion behind them loomed quietly—
Its haunted past is resting for the first time in decades.
The sun rose fully, casting long shadows behind them.
10:03 AM...
One by one, those four began to stir.
Satya sat up first, clutching his head.
"Ugh… feels like a lorry ran over my brain."
Veera stretched out like a cat, blinking at the light.
"Where… what…?"
He looked around, then stared at Satya.
"Did we… spoon?"
Tarun and Rohit, on the other hand, were wide awake.
And wide-eyed.
Still clutching each other for comfort, their expressions said it all.
They remembered.
Everything.
Inside the mansion, Rudra was already up, leaning against the dusty wall with arms crossed, watching the group slowly get their bearings.
Ravi sat beside him, munching on a biscuit like it was a war ration.
Tarun stood up abruptly.
"Ghost! British ghost! It dragged you guys by your leg!"
He pointed at his ankle like it had evidence.
Rohit nodded furiously.
Nod~
"And she screamed in my face! My soul almost left the building!"
Satya and Veera just looked at each other, then at them.
"Prank,"
Satya said with a smug grin.
"They're trying to mess with us."
Veera gave a slow clap.
"Nice performance, boys. Full Oscar material."
Tarun looked like he might cry.
"You… you think we wanted to pee our pants last night?!"
Rudra finally stepped forward.
"It's not a prank."
Everyone fell silent.
"____"
"____"
"____"
And Rudra explains the full story about Jackson, Durai and his daughter.
"The cycle repeats. Every night… same time. Same pattern."
"Durai and his men try to fight Jackson… and every time, they're killed."
Satya frowned.
Frown~
"Cycle?"
"A never-ending loop,"
Rudra explained.
"It's their vengeance that ties them here. Amy showed me everything."
He looked down at his hand, still remembering the ghostly touch.
"To break it… We have to let Durai win. Just once."
"Only then can they rest."
Veera scratched his head.
"Wait—wait—hold up. We're talking about ghosts fighting each other now? Are we part of some horror video game?"
Ravi looked serious.
"This isn't a story. It's happening. And if we don't help…"
"The loop will drag on in an infinite loop."
Satya still looked doubtful, but this time… he didn't laugh.
"So… what's the plan?"
Rudra's eyes narrowed.
"We give Durai what he needs—information, advantage, timing."
"And we prepare for the next 9 PM."
Rudra stood at the centre of the old hallway, the floorboards groaning slightly under his boots. His voice had just finished echoing in the room.
"Everyone… check the mansion. Look for weapons—swords, spears, even guns. There should definitely be something present here. If we're going to help Durai win, we'll need weapons."
The group split off in different directions.
Footsteps, mutters, and the occasional complaint from Satya echoed as everyone scattered to explore the haunted manor.
Soon, only Rudra and Ravi remained in the hall.
"____"
"____"
The silence between them stretched, broken only by the sound of dust settling.
Ravi leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely.
"You didn't tell them everything… did you?"
Rudra paused.
Then gave a small nod.
Nod~
"I saw something last night… something no ghost would trigger."
He turned slightly toward Ravi, his eyes serious.
"When Durai died in the vision—when Jackson shot him—I saw a red glow. It wasn't a fire. It wasn't anything ghostly. It moved through the mansion like a wave."
"It felt like an Astra activation. Bloodline-type. Something ancient… awakened in his final breath. Like… his spirit was too furious to stay dead."
Ravi blinked, his expression shifting from disbelief to concern.
"You think Durai… was an Astra wielder?"
Rudra nodded once again.
Nod~
"Or… the Astra was waiting in his bloodline for the right moment."
"That's why I need you to stay here. Help the others find anything usable. I'm calling Arvind Guruji."
Outside the Mansion...
The broken iron fence barely held the vines creeping up around it.
Rudra stood under the shade of a dead tree, phone in hand, signal flickering—
But finally stabilising.
Ring. Ring.
The Call Connected.
"Guruji,"
Rudra said as the call connected.
A warm but slightly breathless voice responded on the other end.
"Ah, Rudra. I was wondering when you'd call. How's Ayenpuram? Haunted yet?"
Rudra didn't even crack a smile.
"Worse. I need your help. I think there's an Astra involved. A bloodline-type one that activates at death—or on the verge of it."
He recounted what he saw in vivid detail.
The red pulse.
The moment Durai was gunned down.
The eerie flash he was certain was part of the ghostly loop.
On the other end, Guru Arvind went quiet.
"____"
For a long moment, only the rustling wind and static could be heard.
Then—
"Hmm… Blood-ignition Astra. Possible. Especially one tied to unfulfilled revenge… that's rare. Very rare."
"But if it exists, Rudra—it's dangerous. Because it doesn't need a wielder to awaken. It needs a cause."
Rudra clenched his jaw.
"There's more,"
Arvind continued, voice lowering.
"Across several places… there's been a rise in Astra thefts. Ornaments, weapons, talismans. All targeted. Every victim—Astra wielders."
Rudra frowned.
Frown~
"____"
"Dev's men?"
"Yes. Every lead points back to them. They're collecting them. Maybe even trying to build an arsenal."
"I don't have to tell you, Rudra… be careful."
The line crackled again.
"I'll look into which Astra Durai might be connected to. If I find anything, I'll call."
Call Disconnected.
Rudra hung up and looked at the mansion once more.
It's broken windows.
It's cursed walls.
And now, a weaponised spirit.
He exhaled slowly and murmured under his breath.
"If Durai's Astra really awakened… then tonight… we end this loop."
Rudra's phone slipped back into his pocket, his mind still tangled in Guruji's warning,
when a voice broke through his thoughts—
"Rudra!"
He turned.
"____"
Standing outside the old rusted gate were Isha, her friend, Mani, and Viji—
All of them looked like they'd run here the moment they could.
Their expressions were a storm of concern, worry, and sheer relief.
Viji was already stepping forward, eyes scanning Rudra from head to toe like she was checking for bruises.
"Are you okay? Is everyone okay? Especially—Satya?"
She asked, trying to hide the shakiness in her voice.
Rudra gave a tired smile… then let out a chuckle.
Chuckle~
"The ghost is real."
The colour drained from Viji's face like someone had pulled a plug.
"____"
Her lips parted, then closed again.
"W-What?"
She whispered.
Isha's eyes widened.
Mani gulped hard.
Gulp~
"You're joking, right?"
Isha asked, half-hopeful.
"Nope,"
Rudra replied calmly.
"Jackson's ghost… it exists. And I witnessed it with my own eyes, even made contact with his wife."
Viji grabbed the gate's bars tightly.
"Then leave! Why are you guys still inside that cursed place? Get out! Satya, He doesn't have to prove anything!"
Even Mani, who once joked about ghosts, nodded with sudden seriousness.
"She's right. Rudra, this is beyond normal. Don't do something crazy."
But Rudra stepped closer, resting his hand on the gate.
"Tonight… it ends."
"Tonight, I, along with others, am going to put an end to Jackson's ghost. We have already found a way."
The conviction in his voice gave them pause.
After a tense moment,
Viji sighed and looked away, guilt flickering behind her eyes.
Sigh~
"If anything happens to Satya or anyone… it'll be my fault,"
She murmured.
Mani, ever the funny one, when things turned serious, handed Rudra a small cardboard box.
"Snacks. Viji made them. For Satya… and the others. She was worried."
Rudra took the box gently, glanced at Viji, then let out a softer chuckle.
Chuckle~
"I'll give it to him. Don't worry."
He turned to walk back inside, the box tucked under his arm.
As he stepped over the threshold of the old mansion once more, he glanced back.
Viji was still standing at the gate, hugging herself, eyes fixed on the mansion like it was swallowing someone she couldn't afford to lose.
And to leave the place.
Inside one of the rooms.
Dust floated lazily in the air as Veera moved through the old storeroom,
Pretending he wasn't scared of the flickering shadows dancing across the cracked walls.
He ran a hand over an old shelf.
"Nothing but cobwebs and termites,"
He muttered.
But then—
CLANG!
He stumbled into a large iron box, buried under a torn sheet.
Unlike everything else around, this one wasn't rusted or ancient.
"____"
"Uh… Satya?"
Veera called out, trying to keep his voice cool.
Satya, munching on a murukku, leaned in.
"What is it—?"
His eyes landed on the box.
He blinked.
"____"
"That doesn't look… normal."
They exchanged a glance.
Click.
The box creaked open.
Silence.
"____"
"____"
Then—
"What the hell?!"
Inside lay 4 pistols, 3 short-barrel shotguns, 3 AK-47s, a pile of fresh ammo magazines, and 15 military-grade grenades, all perfectly arranged.
The murukku(snack name) fell from Satya's mouth.
HOUR'S LATER...
The whole gang had gathered now—
Ravi, Tarun, Rohit, and Rudra all surrounded the weapons cache with expressions ranging from stunned to mildly excited panic.
Even Rudra was momentarily speechless.
"These… these aren't old,"
He muttered, crouching and inspecting a magazine.
"These are modern military weapons."
Satya looked up, brow furrowed.
Frown~
"Why the hell would modern weapons be in a place haunted by colonial-era ghosts?"
No one answered.
Because no one had a clue…
...none of them knew that two people had arrived here before they ever stepped foot in Ayenpuram.
People who never made it back out.
People who were dragged into the shadows by ghost soldiers—
And got killed.
These weapons were theirs.
And now, they belonged to Rudra and his group.
The weapons were now cleaned, loaded, and neatly laid out across the floor.
Everyone picked one (or two), trying to act like they knew what they were doing.
Tarun held a pistol without unlocking the safety until Ravi turned it around with a deadpan look.
Rohit had a shotgun resting on his shoulder like a cricket bat.
"Don't worry,"
Veera declared boldly, holding two grenades.
"These ghosts won't even know what hit them!"
"That's assuming you don't blow us up first."
Satya muttered, backing away.
Rudra sat silently near the window, watching the sun dip behind the hills.
The sky turned orange, slowly bleeding into a bruised shade of purple.
He took a deep breath…
And reached for a vadai(name of the snack) from the snack box Viji had packed.
"Eat up,"
He said.
"We'll need our strength. Tonight… we fight for freedom."
The clock ticked on.
Only a few hours remained till 9 PM.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review!!! And power stone!!!
Which will motivate me more?