The air over Bhayashraya thickened—not with storm or fire, but with absence.
Birdsong ceased. Wind stopped whispering. Even the flames of Astha's campfire stilled, locked in unnatural silence.
Vaidehi stirred uneasily in her fever sleep.
"Something's coming," Luv said, tightening the straps on his silver armor.
Astha remained seated, eyes closed, fingers twitching against the soil. Smritidhaara began to pulse—its heat flickering not in rage, but in warning.
Then the world changed.
---
Above them, the clouds peeled open—not torn by wind, but split like lips pulled apart.
Behind them, rows of jagged divine teeth gleamed in a void so black it devoured light. No eyes. No tongue. Just gnashing silence, like a mouth that chewed on the concept of belief itself.
From that maw, it descended.
Not falling—unfolding from the hollow sky.
Its form was skeletal, wrapped in godly hymns that it wore like funeral veils. Its spine was lined with broken halos. Its arms were long, twisted, with hands made of cracked mantra sigils.
Its name was never spoken.
But the Watcher had whispered it in Astha's dream:
"Vaagbhaksha."
The Devourer of Divine Names.
---
Once a celestial scribe.
Cursed for attempting to rewrite the cosmic hierarchy.
Now feeds by devouring the true names of gods, erasing them from existence.
Even memory forgets them.
Luv stared at the being, jaw clenched.
"This one's not divine. Not mortal. He's something... else."
"He's the Shatter God's second disciple," Astha muttered.
"And we're about to find out why gods fear him."
---
The Battle Begins
Vaagbhaksha didn't speak.
It exhaled, and reality rippled.
Astha's sword, Ashvaanta, trembled. The glyphs across its edge blurred.
"He's trying to erase the weapon's name," Astha growled.
Smritidhaara surged down his arm, wrapping tighter. The chains flared white-hot, anchoring memory and resisting the void.
"Then we don't let him speak," Luv said, and charged.
---
Luv struck first—his spear splitting into forked lightning, each bolt humming with divine essence. His armor absorbed impact, surging power outward like a pulsating star.
But as he landed a strike, Vaagbhaksha opened his mouth—and spoke one syllable.
"Ra—"
Luv staggered.
His armor—Indra's Blessing—dimmed.
"He's trying to unname Indra," Astha realized.
"Strike now!"
---
Astha drew Viraagnaya. No flourish. No call.
It appeared in his palm, silent and void-drenched.
The moment it was unsheathed, Vaagbhaksha recoiled—his jaw shuddering mid-word.
"You can't devour what doesn't believe," Astha said.
"This blade holds no name. No worship. It's death to the divine."
Astha moved—faster than before.
Smritidhaara launched from his arm, burning into the being's ribs, binding its bones in the memories of forgotten martyrs.
And then—he slashed.
Viraagnaya tore across Vaagbhaksha's side.
No blood.
Instead—runes of forgotten names bled out and screamed.
---
The being began to collapse, unraveling.
"This… is not… the end," it croaked.
"No," Astha whispered.
"But it's the end of your voice."
He struck one last time, cutting through the being's throat.
Vaagbhaksha's jaw fell open—and from it, thousands of god-names spilled into dust.
The sky closed again.
The silence broke.
Luv fell to one knee, panting.
"This is only getting worse."
Astha didn't speak.
Smritidhaara was still shaking.
---
Suddenly, from behind, Vaidehi awoke, eyes glowing.
Her voice was not hers.
"The third disciple watches the horizon. He waits beneath the sea of prayers unspoken."
"And when he rises…"
The Watcher's mark on her chest shattered.
"All gods will wish they were forgotten."