NOVEL WEB Chapter 12: Chapter 12 — Vira Mark
Location: Ashtashram Shelter, Inner Room
Date: September 28, 2029
Time: 4:44 AM
Yash hadn't slept.
Not because he couldn't.
Because his body refused to shut down.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw fire.
Not from outside — from within.
Ash burned under his skin.
Veins glowed faintly white.
And the mark on his back…
…was spreading.
Khushi had seen it first.
When she changed his bandage after the fight, she'd frozen.
"It's not a wound," she whispered.
"It's… a symbol."
The others gathered.
Silent. Watching.
No one touched it.
Because that mark wasn't human.
A circle.
Inside it: Three tridents crossing over a sunburst.
At the center: a bleeding hourglass.
None of them understood it.
But deep in his bones, Yash did.
That night, he locked himself in the meditation room.
A small place, once a prayer hall.
Now — quiet.
He sat cross-legged.
Eyes closed.
Hands still.
And listened.
First came the pulse.
A slow thump in his spine — like a drum echoing across centuries.
Then came the voice.
"Do you understand what you carry?"
Yash didn't speak.
He couldn't.
"Time. Destruction. Transformation."
"You are not chosen by accident."
The mark on his back burned.
His vision blurred.
He saw flashes — of cities collapsing, of stars blinking out, of gods standing with weapons drawn.
And in the center of it all… himself.
White-haired.
Eyes glowing like twin moons.
Holding a blade made of ash and time.
The voice returned:
"You are Vira."
"Shakti-Vira.
Bound to Kali — bearer of divine rage, mother of ends."
"You will not be worshipped."
"You will be feared. By those who think gods are gone."
His body arched back.
The mark lit up the room.
The walls cracked slightly.
The roof trembled.
And then—
Silence.
When he opened his eyes…
he wasn't the same.
His breathing was slower.
His heartbeat was louder.
And the air around him… shifted like smoke.
A small spark of black light hovered above his hand.
Not flame.
Ash.
Alive.
Obedient.
He walked out of the room.
The people stared at him.
Some stepped back.
Some stepped forward.
But all of them saw the truth now:
Yash Roy was no longer just the boy who built the shelter.
He was something else.
A name someone whispered that night, quietly, in reverence:
"The Ash-Bearer… Vira."