The night didn't breathe.
It screamed.
The river-entity lunged—its entire form collapsing into a spear of liquid light. The guardian moved with it, stone limbs tearing into the bank as the two ancient forces converged toward the same target.
Manraj.
Zoya didn't think.
She stepped in front of him, arms shaking, Silence roaring beneath her skin like a wounded animal forced to fight.
Azhar steadied himself beside her, one hand braced on his knee, the other summoning shadows in jagged bursts. His entire body trembled. His eyes glowed faintly—too faintly.
He was running on instinct alone.
The river surged upward—spiraling into a translucent blade.
Azhar dragged his shadows into a shield.
"Zoya—DOWN!"
Zoya dropped.
The blade of water sliced through Azhar's shadow-wall like paper.
But Zoya's Silence snapped upward at the same moment— warping reality just enough for the attack to curve past them and tear a trench through the riverbank instead.
Mud exploded behind them.
Azhar swayed.
"That's— that's the last of my anchor."
Zoya's chest was heaving, her throat raw.
"Then lean on me."
She didn't mean emotionally.
She meant literally.
Azhar grabbed her forearm and steadied himself, forcing his shadows to obey through sheer rage.
The river-entity rose again—its form flickering violently, unstable after Manraj's refusal. Every ripple on its surface shook in agitated waves.
It wasn't just attacking.
It was unraveling.
The guardian stepped protectively in front of it—like a stone sentinel defending its master—even while tremors cracked across its mask.
Zoya whispered through clenched teeth:
"It's angry."
Azhar spat blood.
"No. It's desperate."
The river around them shifted, currents spiraling upward like a slow cyclone. Water curled into thin threads, reaching toward Manraj's unconscious body like searching fingers.
Zoya slapped them away with bursts of Silence.
"Stay AWAY from him—!"
The entity's voice thundered:
"YOU CANNOT KEEP WHAT BELONGS TO THE ROOT."
Azhar growled:
"He doesn't BELONG to ANYONE."
Shadows speared upward toward the entity.
The entity's ripples hardened.
The shadows hit it—
shattered—
and dissolved into rain.
Azhar stumbled forward, gripping his ribs.
Zoya caught him before he hit the ground.
"Azhar—stay with me—"
He pushed her hand away, not in rejection, but in urgency.
"I'm not leaving. But we don't beat it by brute force."
Zoya's breath shook.
"Then how—?"
Azhar lifted his chin toward Manraj.
"He changed reality inside that void. Only he can challenge this thing."
Zoya swallowed.
"…He's unconscious."
Azhar nodded, grim.
"So we wake him."
A tremor rolled through the ground—
heavy
massive
approaching.
The guardian.
It moved now with intention.
Each step shook mud loose from the riverbank. Its mask glowed from within, white light bleeding through the cracks. It lifted one hand—massive, carved of ancient stone—aimed directly at Zoya.
No anger.
No hesitation.
Only purpose.
Azhar dragged himself in front of her.
"Zoya. Get him up."
She hesitated.
"What about—"
"NOW!"
Zoya knelt beside Manraj, cupping his face between both hands.
His skin burned with cold light.
"Manraj," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You said you chose yourself. You SAID it. So choose again. Choose NOW. Open your eyes—please—please—"
His fingers twitched.
The guardian's stone hand descended.
Azhar roared—launching every shadow he had left upward in a towering black wave. The shadows detonated against the guardian's palm with a crack like thunder.
They didn't stop it.
But they slowed it.
Zoya pressed her forehead against Manraj's.
Her tears hit his cheek.
Her Silence trembled violently.
She whispered—not with fear, not with force—
with truth:
"Manraj… come back to me."
His breath hitched.
His chestlight flared once.
The river-entity froze.
The guardian hesitated.
Azhar gasped, shadows flickering like dying embers.
Zoya whispered again.
Softer.
"Manraj."
His eyes snapped open.
White and amber.
Alive.
The ground shuddered as the guardian's attack missed by inches.
Zoya exhaled a sob.
Azhar staggered back in disbelief.
Manraj inhaled sharply.
Then—
he stood.
Not steady.
Not confident.
But standing.
Light spiraled around him—uneven, unstable, but burning.
The river-entity recoiled.
"ERYTH—"
Manraj lifted his head.
"No."
His voice was hoarse.
Fragile.
Completely his.
"I'm not Eryth. I'm Manraj."
The river bucked violently like a trapped animal.
The entity's shape distended—water boiling in fury.
Azhar whispered, awe and fear blending:
"He's fighting it."
The guardian stepped forward, mask cracking completely down the center—
Manraj's light flared brighter.
Zoya reached for him—
He grabbed her hand.
Held
it.
Grounded himself in it.
And whispered:
"I remember everything it took from me."
The river-entity howled—
A sound that tore open the night sky.
And Manraj stepped forward, light rising around him.
The real confrontation began.