The abandoned house looked more like a wound than a shelter. Weather-beaten wood slumped beneath the weight of time, and the windows, shattered long ago, stared out like hollow eyes. The wind pushed the door back and forth with a sound like breathing.
Parashu held up a creased note. "This is the place," he said under his breath.
Beside him, the boy studied the dark around them. "If they know we're coming, they'll already be watching."
Parashu gave a slight nod. "Then let's not keep them waiting."
They stepped inside. The door groaned on its hinges. Dust filled the air like ash, swirling around their boots. The silence lasted only seconds.
Then—laughter.
Not joy. Madness. Unstable and loud, it scraped at the walls and wormed into their ears.
"You came!" the voice shrieked from nowhere. "At last! I'll have my revenge—and then I'll finally breathe free!"
"Show yourself!" the boy shouted, stepping ahead. "You won't touch him. Not while I'm still standing."
The voice snapped back, sharp as a blade. "You? You're just noise. This is between me and Parashu."
A sudden force hit the boy like a hammer. He flew across the room, hit the wall with a bone-jarring crunch, and slid to the floor.
The voice softened—like a knife slipping into skin. "Parashu... You have no idea how long I've waited for this."
Parashu's fists clenched. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"
A figure stepped from the dark—tall, cloaked in shadow. Eyes glinting like steel catching firelight. Before Parashu could move, he was slammed to the ground. A boot crushed his cheek to the wood.
The figure loomed. "You'll know soon enough. But first…"
He pointed toward a sealed door in the far corner.
"Open it."
The door creaked open by some unseen force. What lay beyond made Parashu's blood freeze.
A man, chained by one arm, hung limp. His body was wrecked—bruises, cuts, bones like broken branches under bruised skin. His head hung low.
"Jamadighini," the figure hissed. "Look up. Don't you want to see your boy?"
The man stirred, eyes fluttering open with effort.
"Parashu...?" he croaked. "It's really you?"
Parashu didn't blink. "Yeah. It's me. But I'm not your son. Not anymore."
Jamadighini winced—not from pain, but from shame. "I expected that. Maybe... I deserve it. But why did you come?"
"I didn't come for you. I came to save someone. If I'd known you were here, I'd have stayed behind."
The older man's eyes widened, frantic. "The village—what happened?"
Parashu's voice turned sharp. "Gone. Clan Vetala is dead. I'm all that's left."
"No…" Jamadighini trembled. "Kara's army… So it's begun."
Parashu's gaze narrowed. "You know them. Were you one of them?"
Before he could answer, the figure cut in. "This isn't a reunion. This is a grave."
Parashu turned. "Where is my mother?"
The man smiled with hate. "Dead. Ash. Scattered."
Parashu's body sagged.
"No…" he whispered. "All I ever wanted... was to find her. Just once. Even a glimpse. Now she's gone too."
He lowered his head. "Then... kill me. There's nothing left."
"You disappoint me," the man growled. "Is that all? You give up that easily?"
Parashu's head lifted—slowly, like a storm building. His breath hitched. Then he stood.
"You want me dead?" he said, voice trembling but rising. "Then do it."
"Not yet," the figure sneered. "We're not done playing."
He turned to Jamadighini.
"Why don't you tell your son how she died?" he said coldly. "Tell him how you ripped her apart with your own hands."
Parashu stopped breathing. "What...?"
The world tilted. His hands shook.
"You killed her," he whispered. "You… killed my mother."
The rage came like a wave breaking.
"You might kill me," he snarled, "but I'll drag you to hell with me first!"
The enemy smiled. "Yes. That's more like it. Come, then!"
Parashu raised his blade—but the boy, battered and bloodied, leapt between them.
The blast meant for Parashu struck him instead.
"NO!" Parashu caught him before he fell. "Why?!"
The boy smiled weakly. "Because you're the only one who still matters. I'm giving you everything I've got. All my power. Use it."
A golden light curled from his chest.
"I used to think the spirit inside me was a curse," he said. "But she was a blessing. A goddess. The God of Life's partner."
The light poured into Parashu like liquid flame.
"One favor," the boy whispered, eyes dimming. "I never had a name. Never belonged. Can you… call me your friend? Just once?"
Parashu trembled. "You are my friend. My best friend. And the bravest person I've ever known."
The boy nodded, a faint smile on his lips.
"Then I did something right."
The light flared. A divine wind roared through the room. Parashu rose, transformed—radiant, burning with godly force.
The figure shielded his face. "So… the spirit's awakened. Good. Makes this more interesting."
But his grin faded.
"You still don't understand," he said. "Your father did more than kill her. He tore her apart. Bit by bit. Left nothing."
"SHUT UP!"
The house shook with the force of Parashu's scream. His aura exploded outward in a shockwave. And then—
He vanished.
A breath later, the enemy reeled back. "What—where—?"
Parashu's voice thundered through the room. "You've said enough. You touched everything I loved. Now…"
His blade rose. Divine light seared the air.
"I'll make you pay."
He charged—unstoppable, holy fury incarnate.
And the world turned white.
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