BOOM!
A massive explosion ripped through the training hall. From the dense fog and raining debris, a body was hurled into the air. It crashed into the ground with a heavy thud — Malak lay there, unconscious, his body scorched and broken.
---
Scene Shift
"Malak, Keshav, Nikhil, and Shivam — come to the main hall."
The announcement echoed through the temple, carrying the calm yet commanding tone of Master Kiyoto.
Malak, who was chatting in the kitchen with Hima, blinked. "Oh! We have to go to the main hall? Alright, no problem."
He strode out confidently, only to return moments later, rubbing his head in confusion.
"Uh… Hima? Where's the main hall again?"
Meanwhile—
In the forest, Keshav swung his blade with unrelenting intensity. Hearing the announcement, he smirked. "What does that old man want this time…" His voice carried irritation, but his grin said otherwise.
In another room, Shivam and Nikhil sat apart, both quiet.
Shivam muttered, "That old man… he's terrifying. His face says one thing, but his eyes tell another."
Nikhil replied flatly, "Whatever it is, we'll find out soon enough." His tone was empty, his eyes hollow.
---
THE MAIN HALL
Everyone gathered before Master Kiyoto.
He stood still, his robe swaying lightly in the air. "You are all here because you've forgotten what truly happened to your families," he said. "I will help you revive those memories."
He pointed one by one.
"Malak, the room behind me.
Keshav, Room 885.
Nikhil, the one opposite me.
Shivam… the room named Raef."
Keshav clenched his fists, stepping forward and grabbing Kiyoto by the collar. "What are you planning, old man?" he snarled.
Kiyoto met his glare calmly. "Do not worry, Keshav. Everything will be fine."
Keshav's grip tightened. "If anything happens to us, I'll cut your throat and feed it to the eagles."
"Understood," Kiyoto said simply.
---
MALAK'S ROOM
Darkness.
No sound, no color, no form. Just an endless void.
Master Kiyoto appeared beside Malak. "This is your mind," he said quietly. "It reflects your uncertainty — your rage without direction. You seek revenge on Louisel, yet you do not understand why. Now tell me… do you truly wish to remember what happened that day?"
Malak's eyes blazed with fury and resolve. "Yes."
Kiyoto placed both thumbs on Malak's forehead and began to chant:
"Aistal Semerase Semetota Systarica Mastirona Nimpholin Sastorio Coprada Aestamona Aimsitina AeMaslask…"
Malak's body trembled violently. His mind screamed, but he held his ground. Then—
He saw Keshav.
Keshav, drenched in blood, tearing through Malak's family.
The sound of bone snapping. Flesh ripping. The room painted red.
Keshav crushed his father's skull beneath his boot, laughter echoing through the crimson haze.
Then, holding the severed head, Keshav grinned.
"This is your father's head… and I'll rip out every piece of him — his eyes, his tongue, his teeth — right in front of you!"
Malak's scream died in his throat. His eyes went blank, his breath still, frozen between rage and disbelief.
---
KESHAV'S ROOM
A serene meadow.
Birds chirped. Sunlight warmed the air. The breeze felt… peaceful.
Shira stood nearby. "This is your mind," he said. "Calm, disciplined — your heart and thoughts align. You already know what the number 885 means, don't you?"
Keshav smirked. "It's my code. I cracked it long ago. Let's not waste time."
Shira nodded, raising a hand. "Then close your eyes."
He began the chant, a variation of Kiyoto's. The world blurred, colors inverted—
And then Keshav saw Malak.
Standing over his mother's body.
Laughing. Dancing. The sound of bones cracking with every step.
Keshav ran toward him, screaming, swinging his fists — but the vision ignored him. It wasn't a dream. It was a memory.
He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Stop! Stop it, Malak!"
But Malak kept dancing.
---
SHIVAM'S ROOM
The room was a nightmare.
Shadows moved like living things. Grotesque creatures whispered in the dark.
"Hello," said a gentle voice.
Shivam turned — a woman stood there, radiant amidst the chaos. "I'm Shimari," she said softly. "The Matashi of Love. Don't be afraid."
He hesitated. "The room name… Raef. It's fear spelled backward."
Shimari smiled. "Exactly. Your gift, your curse. Are you ready?"
He nodded weakly.
Shimari placed her hand on his head, chanting the same ancient spell. Shivam trembled as visions tore through his mind—
Nikhil.
Holding a microphone made from his mother's throat. Singing.
Then kicking the heads of his family like a child playing football.
Each impact echoed with a crack. Each laugh twisted the air.
Nikhil turned to him and said, "Your family made great toys, Shivam."
Then he held up the head of Shivam's sister. "Wait — the final touch."
He pierced it. Laughed.
Shivam's eyes went lifeless. Emotionless.
---
NIKHIL'S ROOM
Thunder roared. Rain fell in endless sheets.
Through the storm, a figure walked — Rin.
"I don't have time," he said. "Come here. Focus on my hand. You entered this room because deep down, you want to remember."
Nikhil obeyed silently.
The spell began. Pain consumed him. Then came the vision—
He saw himself tied to a chair.
And in front of him… Shivam.
Smiling.
Dragging blades across Nikhil's family, forcing him to watch every scream, every tear, every drop of blood.
"Your family was fun to play with," Shivam said, his voice echoing like thunder. He peeled away flesh, laughing.
Nikhil screamed, powerless.
---
The four rooms pulsed in sync — four minds reliving horror, four hearts corrupted by false memories.
And somewhere, far beyond their cries, a faint laugh echoed in the void.