The Cursed Pisach Fort
Early Morning at Gurukul
The Gurukul lay wrapped in a soft, silver mist, the world not yet fully awake. The air was cool and carried the scent of wet earth and night-blooming flowers. Only the earliest birds had begun their songs, their chirps delicate in the pre-dawn hush.
Suddenly, the peace was broken. A man stumbled through the main gate, his clothes torn, his eyes wide with a terror so profound it seemed to radiate from him. The gatekeeper moved to block his path, but a calm, resonant voice from within the main hall stilled him.
"Let him approach."
Gurudev Vishrayan stood at the entrance of his cottage, his presence as steady as the ancient banyan tree that shaded it. His eyes, deep and knowing, held no surprise only a gentle, unwavering calm.
The man fell to his knees, his hands pressed together in a desperate plea. "Pranaam, Gurudev… Forgive this intrusion. I have nowhere else to go. The kings will not hear me, the villagers think me mad. But you… you see what others cannot. You are my last hope!"
A quiet sob escaped him. He pointed a shaking hand toward the distant outline of a village. "Gurudev… a Pisach has stolen my son! My only child… please, I beg you, save him!"
Vishrayan closed his eyes. The silence that followed was heavy, profound. When his eyes opened again, they held a soft light. "Do not fear, child. A path exists. Relief is possible."
He turned his head slightly. "Bring me Agni, Neervrah, and Saaransh."
Within moments, the three stood before him, their postures respectful, their attention absolute.
"Today, your training meets its first true test on the path of Karma," Vishrayan said, his gaze lingering on each of them. "You will journey with this sage and bring back his son. Remember this is not a battle of strength alone, but a trial of your mind, your spirit, and your will."
The three young men bowed as one. "Jo aagya, Gurudev."
The sage whispered a prayer, his voice thick with emotion. "Bless us, Gurudev. Let my child be safe."
"Kalyaan ho,child," Vishrayan replied, his blessing settling over them like a shield. They mounted their horses, and the small party set out, the mist swallowing them whole.
On the Road to the Ruins
The forest path was narrow and shadowed, the canopy above blocking much of the growing light. Neervrah, ever unable to endure silence for long, nudged Saaransh with his elbow.
"So… think this Pisach will put up a fight? Or will it just scream and run when it sees us?"
Saaransh flinched, his face pale. "Don't… don't even name it. I can feel its chill from here. Even if it doesn't touch us, its presence alone is a poison."
Neer laughed, a soft, melodic sound in the gloomy woods. His eyes, bright and teasing, found Agni. "Relax. We have our resident fire-god with us. He's afraid of nothing… right, Agni?"
Agni didn't turn. His fiery gaze simply met Neer's over his shoulder. No words passed between them, but the air crackled with a familiar tension a mix of challenge, irritation, and that unnameable pull that neither would ever acknowledge aloud.
Soon, the ruins emerged from the thinning mist a skeleton of a fort, its broken pillars like ribs against the grey sky. Charred walls whispered of a long-dead fire, and the very air felt heavy and still.
"This is the place," the sage whispered, his body trembling. "The demon… it keeps my boy in there."
Neer placed a steadying hand on the man's shoulder, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Do not worry, Uncle. We will bring your son home. You have our word."
Agni's eyes flicked from Neer to the dark maw of the fort's entrance. The silent understanding between them was a thread, thin but unbreakable.
Inside the Ruins
The moment they crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped. Saaransh, his sensitivity to spiritual energy his greatest gift and curse, stumbled. His fingers brushed the cold stone floor, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
"Watch out!" Agni's hand shot out, grabbing Saaransh's arm to keep him upright.
Saaransh trembled violently, his voice a thin whisper. "This place… it's screaming. It was a palace once… beautiful. But the queen died. The king remarried. His new wife… she poisoned him one night. She and the prime minister, his most trusted friend… they fled together after hiding his body in a secret chamber."
He swallowed hard, his face ashen. "No rites were performed. No prayers said. The king's soul, twisted by betrayal, became… this. A Pisach. It has fed on the lost and the lonely ever since."
Neer's jaw tightened. "Then we don't destroy it. We free it. Proper last rites. Offerings."
"Yes,"Agni agreed, his voice low. "Saaransh, find the remains. We'll protect you and the child."
The Pisach Appears
A black, oily mist poured from the walls, coalescing in the center of the hall. The Pisach itself remained formless, but its voice was a rasping chill that scraped against their minds.
"Who dares walk in my kingdom? Do you crave death so deeply that you deliver yourselves to me?"
Neervrah took a step forward, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Death is just a door. You… you're the one who should be afraid."
"Stay focused, Neer," Agni's voice was a calm, sharp command. "This thing is a trickster. It will attack your mind. Show it no fear."
As if summoned by his words, the illusions descended.
Agni stood in a sun-drenched garden. Before him, a woman he somehow knew was being torn apart by a shadowy beast, her screams tearing at his soul.
Saaransh was surrounded by translucent, grinning Pisachs, their mouths stained with blood, reaching for him with clawed hands. He stood frozen, a silent scream in his throat.
Neer found himself in a lavish bedchamber, a heavy sword in his hand. Dark whispers filled his ears, urging him to swing it at chained, innocent figures cowering before him.
"Lies!" Neer gritted his teeth, forcing his mind to clarity. He threw his hands out, and a curtain of clean, cool water sprayed over Agni and Saaransh.
The visions shattered. Agni blinked, his fists clenched, flames sputtering at his knuckles. Saaransh gasped as if breaking the surface of deep water.
The Pisach's laugh echoed, a sound of grinding stone. "You resist… but your own fears are a poison in your blood. Can you face them?"
Agni's fire roared to life, a controlled inferno that lit the entire hall. Neer's water swirled around him in defensive ribbons, instinctively dousing any embers that flew too near. Their powers, though opposites, moved in a tense, perfect harmony a push and pull born of countless hours of rivalry and unspoken practice.
Agni's eyes, burning with intensity, locked with Neer's calm, ocean-deep gaze. In that look was a challenge, a grudging respect, and a connection that needed no words.
Neer smirked, using a precise jet of water to steer Agni's flame away from a dry tapestry. "Easy, fire prince. Your rage is a weapon, not a master."
Agni's lip twitched. "And your playfulness is a shield, water prince. This fire answers to me."
Yet in the silent space between their words,they both knew the truth: they were each other's only equal. The electricity of their bond was a stronger force than any magic in the room.
"Your will is a bright flame… but fear is an endless ocean," the Pisach hissed, its voice now a chorus of whispers from the shadows.
The three moved closer together, a unified front. Saaransh, his courage returning, pointed a determined finger down a dark corridor. "There! I can see him! The boy is there!"
Neer's water formed a shimmering, protective dome around them. Agni's flames surged forward, a blazing torch cutting through the oppressive darkness. Their elements, once clashing, now worked in concert—a testament to a trust that ran deeper than their rivalry.
The Pisach's voice boomed, final and threatening, "Face me… and let your deepest terrors become your tomb."
They stepped forward, into the heart of the darkness, the fate of a child and the soul of a betrayed king hanging in the balance. Fire and water, rivalry and respect all were about to be tested against a true enemy.
Next chapter: The Liberation of Betal.