After seeing the initial success of the ritual, Mahangira threw his head back and laughed loudly.
"Hahahaha…"
But that sound did not belong to a single person, nor to him. Within his laughter, dozens of other voices seemed to overlap, old men, women, children, and beasts, creating a chorus that sent chills down the spines of everyone present.
Suddenly, the fat king's voice thundered down from above.
"Stop wasting time!"
His voice echoed through the arena.
"We are already behind schedule. Even if you have to use the last resort, the sun will still rise!"
His tone grew colder.
"The previous attempt nearly failed because of delays, and now it is happening again. Have you forgotten the consequences of a half-finished ritual?"
Mahangira's laughter stopped abruptly as he slowly turned his head towards the unseen yet familiar voice of the king; however, while there was a blooming smile on his face, something dark and sinister flickered behind that smile.
Bastard… Just wait. You will get exactly what belongs to you.
But he spoke none of those thoughts aloud. Instead, he simply laughed again. Then he took a deep breath and looked across the arena. The soldiers now appeared half-asleep, standing motionless in unnatural positions. The slaves looked even worse. They resembled dolls, like lifeless figures arranged by unseen hands.
The gigantic lotus continued devouring the dawn, just like the silent figures that had stood around the pyres earlier. The petals that had once glowed with moonlight were slowly turning black. Darkness spread across them like rot.
Then…
Drop.
Drop.
Drop.
Thick black liquids began falling from the petals. It looked like pitch-black sweat dripping from a dying celestial flower. Each drop fell from the sky into the middle of the pyre and hissed loudly upon contact. The smell that spread from it was neither pleasant nor foul, but no one was there to ask questions.
Mahangira stretched both hands outward, and his eyes landed upon a nearby slave. One hand grabbed his throat. The other seized his legs. For a brief second, the slave's eyes widened.
Then, with a 'Stretch!' sound, his body elongated unnaturally, bones snapped, muscles tore, and skin stretched like wet cloth. Before anyone could fully comprehend what was happening, with a 'boom!' sound, his entire body burst apart in a circular burst of flesh and blood.
From the shattered remains, the black bat suddenly emerged and flew towards the darkened sky, but Mahangira opened his mouth, and a powerful suction force erupted from him. The nearby air twisted, and with one swoop, the bat screamed as it was dragged backwards and swallowed whole. A jagged smile cutting across his face as he licked the residual blood from his lips.
Meanwhile, the scattered blood and flesh rained onto the pyre, instantly igniting. The moment they touched the wood, blue-black flames erupted. With a 'Whoosh!' sound, the pyre ignited instantly. The fire did not spread upward like normal flames. Instead, it crawled along the wood like living creatures searching for prey.
Standing amidst those flames, Mahangira tore into the slave's severed head and heart. Blood dripped down his face as he laughed. Then he raised his head and roared. The sound resembled a starving beast awakening after centuries of imprisonment.
"LET THE PURIFICATION BEGIN!"
His voice shook the arena. The humming that had filled the surroundings intensified. Ascending into the air, he sat cross-legged above the pyre. He sat cross-legged above the burning pyre. His fingers moved through complex mudras one after another. Around him, glowing yantras began appearing. Some spun slowly. Some remained still.
Others shifted shape continuously as if alive. The blue-black flames beneath him grew higher. Then something even stranger occurred.
The shadow cast by those flames suddenly split apart.
One shadow became two. Two became four. Four became dozens. The shadows peeled away from one another like layers of skin, and from one of those shadows, a woman emerged, completely naked.
The sight itself was too disturbing, as half of her face was hidden behind a mask and the other half appeared as if countless feathers had been woven directly into human flesh. Feathers of black, crimson, violet, blue, and silver covered portions of her body. More feathers were stabbed through her hair, shoulders, chest, and arms as though they had grown from within her. Her long hair reached nearly to the ground.
She looked neither human nor spiritual. Neither alive nor dead.
Mahangira reached forward and pulled her close. Then he leant down and fed something directly from his mouth into hers. Afterwards, he casually threw her towards the ground.
For some moments, nothing happened, and even she remained motionless. But suddenly, her fingers twitched with a 'crack' sound, then her wrist rotated completely backwards with another 'crack' sound, and then came her legs, with violent 'crack, crack, crack' sounds. Other joints, one after another, rotated unnaturally. Her head spun around like a spider's before suddenly snapping back into place.
Then, she inhaled a deep, dark breath. She slowly rose to her feet, every limb stretched outward. Her body straightened. Her neck cracked once more, and then she smiled. That smile was terrifying yet so beautiful. Beautiful enough that even the damned souls of hell might willingly follow it.
She lifted her gaze towards the sky, and a devilish smile on her face widened. Mahangira grabbed that head's bloody skull and handed it to her. She accepted it reverently and drank that thick dark liquid without hesitation.
The moment she finished, her eyes turned completely black. It was as if her eyeballs had completely vanished. She threw her head back and released a beast-like scream. Then glowing sigils began appearing across her body. One after another, thousands of intricate markings illuminated her skin, light poured from her body.
The sigils spread from her feet to her face until she resembled a living ritual itself. Mahangira laughed louder. Then, with a flick of his hand, he hurled her beyond the pyre. She landed lightly despite the force.
"Begin."
The moment those words left his mouth, a 'Crack!' sound was heard from the distance. A streak of red lightning landed somewhere in the distance. Mahangira narrowed his eyes, but his hand was counting something silently. As time passed, nothing actually seemed to happen, but suddenly a realisation crossed his face, and Mahangira burst into laughter.
"Hahaha…"
His voice echoed through the arena.
"So someone is helping this ritual."
The laughter became louder.
"Good."
"Very good."
"I am impressed."
He spread his arms.
"To offer such willing sacrifice…"
His eyes gleamed with dangerous delight.
"Then I shall gladly accept your contribution."
From above, the king's voice immediately rang out.
"Go check that location!"
Mahangira merely waved his hand dismissively.
"No need."
His smile widened.
"He is helping us."
A brief pause followed. Then his eyes drifted towards the distant horizon.
"A very helpful one."
And Mahangira whispered almost to himself, "But who he is..."
His smile sharpened.
"And for whom that sacrifice was made… We shall find out soon enough."
...
Suddenly, she began to dance; her movements were neither graceful nor chaotic. Yet, it felt like some ancient ritual. Five thick braids hung from her head. At the end of each braid dangled a different sigil.
Each sigil glowed with its own eerie light, spinning slowly while releasing faint whispers into the air. As those braided ends brushed against the counted figures standing around the pyre, blood immediately began flowing from their mouths.
Thin streams at first and then thicker. Yet not a single sound escaped them. Neither their expressions changed nor their eyes remained unmoved. Only the blood dripping from their mouths proved they were still alive. The humming sound filling the arena grew heavier.
Then, one of the braids drifted towards the chosen boy. The sigil at its end slowly descended towards his forehead. The moment it was about to touch him, with a 'crack!', the sigil shattered. The glowing symbol exploded into fragments of black light. As that next braid moved. Its sigil rushed towards the boy as though attempting to complete the ritual. But before it could touch him, the woman vanished as her body melted into shadow.
A black streak crossed the distance instantly. With a 'Boom!' sound, she appeared besides the boy and kicked him away with tremendous force. The boy rolled across the ground several times before being stabbed on that wall. At the same moment, her claws tore away the clothes from his body as though searching for something hidden beneath them.
Above the arena, the king's annoyed voice rang out.
"Mahangira, what about that boy?"
His tone carried clear dissatisfaction.
"I personally chose him for this occasion."
Mahangira did not even turn around. He continued watching the ritual while speaking calmly.
"Someone has already given a sacrifice in his place."
The king frowned.
"What?"
Mahangira's eyes narrowed.
"His fate line was altered moments ago."
The blue-black flames reflected within his pupils.
"If I force the ritual upon him now, the consequences will be far worse than what happened last time."
A brief silence followed. Then Mahangira added coldly,
"Do you want to proceed anyway?"
The king immediately clicked his tongue.
"Ahhh..."
His irritation became obvious.
"I should have inspected him more carefully."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Now where are we supposed to find another suitable one?"
He cursed under his breath.
"Shit..."
Then he shouted towards those around him.
"Hey! All of you, get over here! Why are you all standing around looking half dead?"
Mahangira suddenly raised one hand.
"Don't worry."
His voice carried certainty.
"Someone has already been marked in his place."
The king paused with a smile.
"Well... that saves time."
Meanwhile, the woman suddenly twisted her neck in a complete rotation. Her gaze locked onto a particular soldier. He was none other than the soldier who had dragged the boy here by his hair earlier.
She was already standing before him; those torn clothes taken from the boy were wrapped around the soldier's body. Then she forced her hand into his mouth. Moments later, she pulled out a struggling black bat from deep inside his throat.
The creature shrieked desperately. Without hesitation, she threw it towards Mahangira. Mahangira caught it midair and swallowed it whole. His expression became one of complete satisfaction.
Only then did the soldier regain a small portion of his senses.
"Help—!"
His scream echoed briefly, but when he saw nearby ones the same as those in front of them, a real despair rose in his heart, and he also understood he was beyond saving.
The woman calmly placed five glowing sigils upon his body. One on the forehead, one on the chest, one on each shoulder, one above the navel. As those markings were drawing on his body by that woman, groaning shouts came repeatedly from his mouth with foam, but everything stopped as those markings pulsed like living things beneath his skin. However, he sensed life in him.
Though in the next moment, the woman grabbed the soldier's face; before he could even scream, she gouged out both of his eyes. Blood sprayed across her hands. The soldier's howl echoed throughout the arena.
Using that fresh blood, she drew the same symbol onto his forehead. The symbol glowed immediately, and then she dragged him into the exact position where the chosen boy had originally stood.
The bloody eyeball in her hand, she casually tossed into the blue-black flames.
Mahangira grabbed those eyes and then slowly licked them. As he did it, something stranger happened next; those eyeballs began changing. Yantras started appearing across their surfaces.
Tiny symbols illuminated within the irises, the pupils expanded unnaturally. One eye floated near the bonfire. The other drifted away. It circled around the pyre before stopping directly opposite the first, creating a perfect parallel alignment.
As she ended her marking, the woman then walked directly into the flames. With a long, unnatural scream, her body suddenly split apart. Everything separated into countless shadowy fragments.
Each fragment moved independently, and those fragments rushed towards the counted figures.
One after another, with horrifying gentleness, they plucked out each person's eyes.
The victims remained silent, and only their mouths bled. Each eye was thrown into the fire. One by one.
Soon dozens of eyeballs floated around the pyre, arranged in a massive circle. The first soldier's eyes served as the beginning. The last victim's eyes completed the pattern.
Then something extraordinary occurred: glowing lines began spreading from those first and last eyes. Then different glowing patterns crawled from one eyeball to another.
Like roots connecting distant trees. One side rotated clockwise and the other rotated anticlockwise. Different symbols emerged upon every eye, as no two were exactly alike.
The circle slowly completed itself as the entire yantra network became linked.
The floating eyeballs began to rotate endlessly along vertical and horizontal axes, each aligning perfectly with an empty socket somewhere across the formation. Then, from the heart of the pyre, a dark shape of fire and shadow manifested.
Moving faster than human thought, the phantom struck.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
In the same instant, it kicked every floating eyeball.
A bright flash erupted; their eyes shot through the air. Like stars returning to their constellations.
Each one entered an empty eye socket, perfectly, simultaneously.
The victims jerked violently, their heads snapping back as blood geysered from their eyes. But the torrent did not last.
The blood began to glow, conduits of deep blue light spreading through the veins of their faces. The sockets shifted from raw crimson to an eerie, luminous azure.
The body acted as a medium; the blood acted as pathways.
The yantras beneath their skin began to ignite...
TBC…