ECLIPSED FLAME

--- 18 April 2021 — 11:55 PM

Ruined Shrine, Jungle Outskirts, Ujjain

The moon looked like a half-buried coin tonight — pale and cold above the dark canopy. The shrine's cracked pillars caught its glow just enough to outline Aadiv's silhouette — kneeling inside the circle of runes, sweat sliding down his neck.

The ember pulsed under his ribs, warm and steady — but tonight it felt… hungrier. The Voice's words still echoed in his skull: "Burn what is false. Keep what is worthy."

---He'd slept maybe an hour in two days. But his eyes gleamed faint gold in the dark — the edges flickering black where the void's hunger waited to bite through.

A dead branch cracked in the forest behind him. Aadiv didn't flinch.

---

> Aadiv (under his breath):

"Time to feed you again."

---He rose, barefoot on broken stone. In his left palm, the tiny flame hissed — more focused than days ago. No longer a helpless ember — it danced, searching for illusions to swallow.

His right hand dragged a makeshift spear behind him — just a branch sharpened to a crude point, charred black at the tip.

He stepped outside the shrine. The jungle opened its maw.

---

> The Voice (deep, close, like a father's hum in his bones):

"Tonight, you do not hunt flesh alone. Hunt the shadows that cling to your grief. Burn them. Or they will devour your soul before the world does."

Aadiv didn't answer. He slipped into the trees, breath slow, heartbeat like a war drum muffled by fog.

---They found him first.

A shimmer — barely a ripple in the night air — moved between the trunks. He smelled it: damp metal, old rot. The shape solidified — an echo of the predator he'd burned days ago.

But its eyes weren't just wild this time — they were mirrors, showing flashes of his father's blood, his sister's scream.

---

It lunged. Aadiv side-stepped, the spear stabbing forward. The point slipped through the illusion's ribs — no flesh, just memory wrapped in lies.

The shape snarled, but its teeth dripped shadows instead of saliva. It circled him, more illusions forming behind it — smaller beasts with human eyes, flickers of the dead faces he'd failed to protect.

---

> Aadiv (voice low, steady):

"You're not real. You're the chain. I'm the fire."

The ember in his palm sparked — golden veins traced up his wrist, searing his cuts shut. The illusions lunged in unison.

---He dropped the spear — let the flame grow instead.

The shadows struck — claws, teeth, ghostly hands trying to drag him down. Aadiv screamed — not in fear, but in fury. He slammed his burning palm into the chest of the largest shape.

The flame roared — bright gold spilling out like liquid sun. Shadows recoiled — their screams echoing through the trees like a thousand voices dying at once.

---

But the flame didn't stop. It reached for him too — the edges of his vision bled gold, then black. He saw his mother's smile turn to ash, his father's hand crumble like burnt paper.

---

> The Voice (thunder behind his eyes):

"Not all illusions are lies. Hold what you are — or the flame will eat the truth with the rot."

---He clenched his fist. The flame hissed, swirling tighter around the illusions — but Aadiv held the ember close, wrapping it in the last shred of his will.

One by one, the shadow beasts cracked like glass under a hammer — their edges burning away until the jungle fell silent again.

---Aadiv stood alone in the clearing, his chest heaving. The spear lay broken at his feet — the shrine flickered behind him, runes faintly pulsing to the beat of his heart.

He looked at his palm — raw, blistered, but steady. The ember curled there, a tiny sun that owed nothing to gods or ghosts.

---

> Aadiv (voice hoarse, but a small smile cracking through the ash on his lips):

"You'll never feed on me. I'll feed you. And you'll make the world kneel."

High in the trees, the wind shivered through dead leaves — carrying a whisper that sounded suspiciously like a father's laugh.

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