The deep forest was a cathedral of shadows and silence. Agni moved with a new stiffness, the wounds from the mountain a dull, throbbing map across his skin. The strange ash-like flow had finally ceased, leaving him sore but whole. Beside him, Neer's eyes were no longer just watching the path—they were listening to it, feeling for the tremor in the roots, the shift in the birdsong that wasn't there.
The shriek that tore through the green silence wasn't animal. It was a sound of rending, of something old and wrong being awakened. And after it, a deeper quiet fell. No rustle of fleeing creatures. Just the heavy, rhythmic THUMP… THUMP… that vibrated up through the soles of their boots, making the leaves on the forest floor shiver.
Then, it stepped into a sliver of murky light.
The Brahmarakshas.
It was not just tall; it was a perversion of height, its body a grotesque sculpture of muscle and malice. Two horns, like twisted obsidian, speared from its skull. Its eyes were not just red; they were live coals set deep in a face that held a cruel, mocking intelligence. And its hands… they ended in claws that curved like sickle moons, promising a tearing, not a cut. The sacred thread across its massive chest was the final, sickening joke a whisper of sanctity drowned in a roar of profanity.
Neer's breath hitched. The fear that washed over him was cold, primal. It wasn't the fear of a fight, but the fear of a cliff edge in the dark. "This… Agni… this thing… it's not something we fight. One blow and we're just… gone."
Agni didn't look away from the monster. His voice was low, a flat line of sound in the trembling air. "We don't have a path around it. Only through. Stay close. Don't let its eyes hold you."
"Fine," Neer whispered, the word a promise to himself. He shifted, putting his body slightly ahead of Agni's. "But you stay behind me. You're still painting the ground with your shadow."
They moved like smoke, keeping trees between themselves and that burning gaze. For a few breathless moments, it worked. Then the wind shifted. The Brahmarakshas's head lifted, its nostrils flaring. It had caught the scent—the iron-tang of Agni's recently clotted blood.
The coals of its eyes found them and ignited.
It didn't run; it unleashed itself. The ground seemed to buckle under its charge. They ran, but it was a tide of destruction, closing the distance with terrifying ease. A clawed hand, faster than sight, shot out and closed around Neer's torso, lifting him off the ground like a doll. The world upended for Neer, the forest floor tilting away, the monster's hot, rancid breath washing over him as its maw opened.
"NEER!"
Agni's panic was a raw, torn thing. He didn't think. He reacted. Fire erupted from his palms—not the controlled blaze of battle, but a desperate, scorching geyser aimed at the creature's wrist. The beast roared, more in surprise than pain, and its grip loosened. Neer fell in a heap, gasping.
"Agni… I'm—"
"Up! NOW!" Agni's command was strained. He was already swaying, the burst of energy draining what little strength he had left. He stumbled, knees giving way.
Neer was there in an instant, hooking an arm under Agni's, hauling him upright. "You're running on fumes! Lean on me! We go together!"
But the Brahmarakshas was done playing. It lunged again, a massive claw sweeping down. This time, Neer didn't dodge. He met it. His sword flashed, a clean, sharp arc that severed the monstrous hand at the wrist. It thudded to the forest floor, twitching.
"You go!" Neer yelled, shoving Agni back. "I'll hold it!"
"NO!" Agni's refusal was a snarl. "Not alone!"
"Look at you!" Neer shot back, his voice cracking. "You can barely stand! This isn't loyalty, it's suicide!"
Before Agni could argue, the impossible happened. The stump of the monster's wrist bubbled, writhed, and from it, a new hand of sinew and claw regrew in seconds. With a roar of pure fury, it backhanded Neer, sending him crashing into a tree trunk.
Now, it turned its full attention to the weakened Agni. A final, triumphant light glinted in its eyes as it raised its regenerated claw for a killing blow. Agni tried to summon a shield of flame, but only a weak flicker answered. Darkness crowded the edges of his vision, and he collapsed, the world fading.
The claw descended.
A sound like a crashing wave filled the clearing. Not from the river, but from Neer.
His eyes flew open. They were no longer brown, but a deep, luminous blue, like the heart of a glacier. He wasn't standing; he was hovering, an inch off the ground, energy crackling around him like a storm. From his outstretched hand, a torrent of pure, liquid light—not water, but the essence of water—erupted. It didn't attack. It interposed. A dome of swirling, radiant azure sealed itself around Agni's fallen form just as the claw struck.
The impact resonated with a deep, bell-like gong, but the shield held. Droplets of the radiant energy, cool and alive, rained down on Agni's face. His eyelids fluttered.
Neer didn't wait. The sword in his hand melted and reformed, becoming a blade of coherent, flowing current. He moved not with steps, but with the inevitability of a flood. The Brahmarakshas turned, but it was too late. Neer was a blur of blue light. His water-blade didn't cut; it dissolved, passing through the monster's form in a thousand places at once. For a moment, the creature stood, a statue of crumbling darkness, before it silently fragmented into a pile of oozing shadow.
The glow around Neer vanished. He dropped to his knees beside the fading shield, which dissolved into mist. He pulled Agni up, hands frantically checking the old wounds. They were… smooth. Only pale, new skin remained.
"Agni? Talk to me."
Agni stared at his own arm, wonder dawning over the exhaustion. "The wounds… they're just… gone."
A faint, wisp of a smile touched Neer's lips. "Must've been… the shield." The effort of speaking seemed immense.
Agni's relief was so profound it was physical. He pulled Neer into a tight embrace, the momentum sending them both sprawling to the soft earth.
Neer pushed himself up on his elbows, confusion in his eyes. "What—?"
"LOOK!" Agni's shout was pure dread.
The pile of shadows was stirring. Not rebuilding, but swarming, flowing back together like malignant mercury, rising once more into the horned, hateful form. It was whole. It was angrier.
The fight that followed was a nightmare of futility. Swords cut, fire roared, but the creature simply reformed. Agni's flames, meant to purify, recoiled and slammed back into him, leaving him breathless and scorched. They were not fighting a body; they were fighting a curse.
And the curse knew it.
The Brahmarakshas's eyes glowed. It didn't lunge at Agni. It pointed a claw at Neer. A tendril of absolute blackness shot out, not to strike, but to invade. It wrapped around Neer's head, seeping into his eyes, his ears.
Neer's body went rigid. The warm, lively light in his eyes guttered out, replaced by a flat, empty black. He turned, mechanically, towards Agni. His sword rose.
"Neer… no…" Agni whispered, backing away, his own sword held limply. "Fight it."
Neer's face was a mask of agony, trapped behind his own eyes. But his body obeyed the darkness. The sword came down. Agni, refusing to raise his own blade, could only twist away. The edge bit deep into his shoulder, not a clean cut, but a vicious tear. Blood, bright and shocking, bloomed across his tunic.
The sight of it—Agni's blood, drawn by his hand—seemed to shatter something in the monster's hold. The black tendril snapped. Neer blinked, the horror flooding back in before the pain even registered. He looked at his bloody sword, then at Agni staggering back, and his world shattered.
"NO! AGNI!"
Agni, white-faced with pain, saw the monster reaching for him past Neer's frozen form. With a final surge, he brought his own blade down on the creature's extended arm, severing it. Then his strength gave out, and he fell.
Neer was on him in an instant, cradling his head, tears falling freely onto Agni's face. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I hurt you… I hurt you…" The words were a broken mantra.
Agni said nothing. He pushed weakly at Neer's chest, a silent plea. With a groan that was half-agony, half-defiance, he forced himself to his feet. He placed his body squarely between Neer and the advancing Brahmarakshas. A shield. A promise.
The monster understood the gesture. Its lips peeled back in a grin of vile triumph. It didn't bother with a claw. It simply thrust its massive, regenerated sword forward in a single, brutal motion.
The sound was wet. Final.
Agni's eyes went wide. He looked down, slowly, at the length of dark metal protruding from his abdomen. A strange, quiet sigh escaped him. Then his knees buckled.
For Neer, time stopped. The forest, the monster, the world—it all drained of color and sound. The only thing that existed was the sight of Agni falling, the life bleeding out of him onto the indifferent earth.
The scream that tore from his throat had no words. It was the sound of a soul being ripped in two. "AGNNNIIIIIIIIIIIEEE!!!"
He caught Agni before he hit the ground, sinking with him, holding the limp, too-light body. The tears were a flood now, but his voice was a shattered whisper aimed at the uncaring sky. "Gurudev… what is this? What kind of test is this? How do I save him? What hell have you sent us into?"
He looked from the heavens to the face of his dying friend. A switch flipped. Despair was a luxury he could not afford. He lowered Agni gently, placing his hands over the terrible wound. He closed his eyes, and this time, his plea was not a cry, but an invocation.
"O Lord of Rivers, of the Deep Wells, of All that Flows and Cleanses… I am your instrument. Take whatever you need from me. My breath, my strength, my very life… but let it flow into him. Heal him. Save him. I beg you."
A gentle, cool light—different from the earlier fury—emanated from Neer's hands. It enveloped Agni, seeping into the wound, stemming the crimson tide, holding the fragile flame of his life steady.
Neer stood. When he opened his eyes, they were not just blue. They were twin suns of blue-white fury. In one hand, a sword of swirling, pressurized water formed, humming with contained power. In the other, a blade of pure, white-hot flame flickered to life—not his element, but an echo of Agni's, born of his absolute need.
He turned to the Brahmarakshas. He did not charge. He appeared before it. The dance that followed was not a fight; it was an annihilation. The water sword bound and dissolved. The fire sword burned and seared. He moved with a terrifying, graceful violence, dismantling the monster piece by screaming piece. Finally, with a cross-slice that released all his rage and grief, he severed its core. As the pieces fell, his water blade exploded into a million binding threads, wrapping each fragment, holding the curse in stasis.
The flames in his left hand winked out. The water sword dissolved. Every ounce of borrowed power left him. He took one stumbling step towards Agni, raised a trembling hand, and let a last, gentle shower of healing droplets fall upon his friend's face.
Then, Neervrah's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, a marionette with cut strings.
Agni stirred. The pain was a distant memory. His body felt whole, impossibly whole. He sat up, and his heart stopped for the second time that day.
"Neer…?"
He scrambled to him, gathering the still form into his lap. Neer's face was pale, his breathing shallow as a baby bird's. A sob ripped from Agni's throat. "Get up… get up, Neer. Please. I've faced demons and mountains… but this… this stillness in you is a terror I never knew." He pressed his forehead to Neer's. "You reckless fool… you poured your very soul out for me. Why? Why would you do that?"
A light, soft and golden, descended through the canopy. It did not touch the ground; it hung in the air, and from it, a voice resonated, familiar and infinitely wise.
"Son of Fire."
Agni looked up, tears streaking through the grime on his face. "Gurudev?"
"The Lifegiver lives. He channeled a power far greater than himself to pull you from death's maw. His body is merely asleep, recovering a debt paid in life-force. Your task is not over. This is a Brahmarakshas—a scholar consumed by his own pride, cursed to this form. Its body is an illusion of hate. You must free the soul trapped within. Recite the Narayan Kavach. Let your fire be not a weapon, but a sacred pyre of release."
Agni understood. He laid Neer down gently. Closing his eyes, he did not call upon the fire of battle. He called upon the fire of the hearth, of the sun, of life itself. A ring of calm, brilliant gold rose from the earth, encircling both him and Neer in its protective warmth.
Then, he began to chant. The ancient syllables of the Narayan Kavach fell from his lips, not as words, but as vibrations of pure peace. They flowed into the clearing, washing over the bound, twitching fragments of the monster.
The Brahmarakshas's form began to tremble. The hateful red light in its eyes flickered. Between the sacred words and the ring of purifying fire, something else surfaced. Not a roar, but a whimper. A voice, old and cracked with centuries of torment.
"After… so long… the chains… burn away… O Narayan… forgive…"
There was no explosion. There was a release. The shadowy fragments dissolved not into ash, but into motes of gentle light that rose, twinkling, through the trees and vanished into the sky. A profound, deep silence settled over the forest, a silence that felt like forgiveness.
The golden ring faded. Agni slumped forward, the chant and the strain leaving him hollow. But he crawled back to Neer's side. With a grunt of effort, he lifted the unconscious boy, arranging him over his shoulders with infinite care.
He carried him out of the clearing, finding a sheltered, deserted hut on the forest's edge. He laid Neer on a bed of dry grasses, brushing the hair from his damp forehead.
For a long time, Agni just sat there, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of Neer's chest. The love in his eyes was a raw, aching thing, tangled with a fury born of fear.
"I know you," he whispered, his voice rough with spent emotion. "I know you would trade your heartbeat for another's without a second thought. But this… this wasn't bravery, Neer. This was you trying to leave me alone in this world. And that is a debt I can never repay, and a foolishness I can never forgive."
He leaned closer, his whisper a vow and a plea. "So don't you dare. Don't you ever do that again. Because if you fade, the light goes with you. And I am left in the dark."
On the pallet, Neer did not stir. But in the quiet of his healing sleep, as if hearing the pain and love in the words meant only for him, the faintest, softest of smiles touched his lips.