Kalinaya: Blood of the Forgotten Gods

Location: Rooftop of Ashtashram

Date: October 10, 2029

Time: 2:09 AM

The fog didn't leave after the creature vanished.

It just… waited.

And that night, the sky changed again.

But it didn't crack.

It didn't bleed.

It simply opened — like a curtain being drawn.

And behind it…

eight shadows appeared.

Each was shaped like a person.

But larger.

Not just in size — in presence.

Yash stood on the roof alone.

Everyone else was asleep.

Or pretending to be.

The shadows did not speak.

They did not move.

But their eyes — if they had eyes — were locked on him.

Yash could feel them.

One felt like fire.

Another like silence.

One made his spine feel cold.

Another made his chest ache — like guilt made flesh.

He stepped forward.

The ash on the rooftop stirred around him.

He didn't kneel.

He didn't bow.

He just whispered—

"If you're gods… why do you only watch?"

No answer.

Only wind.

Only ash.

Then a sound — like a thousand drums beneath the earth.

And the voice came — not from the sky.

But from within.

"We do not save," it said.

"We choose."

"We do not hold.

We burn.

And those who survive…

carry us."

The eight shadows faded.

One by one.

And with each disappearance, a new mark etched itself into the ash circle around Yash.

Symbols.

He didn't understand them.

But he felt them.

Each one pulled at a different part of his soul.

Below, Mira woke up with a migraine.

Ankita dreamed of a war she never fought.

Khushi cried in her sleep — whispering names she didn't know.

When Yash came back down, he didn't speak.

He just washed his hands.

His eyes were glowing faint white again — not from power…

…but from pressure.

That night, the dream came again.

But not his parents.

Not guilt.

This time, it was a battlefield of stars.

And the eight shadows stood at the edge.

Watching.

Waiting.

And a whisper:

"Your next form… will cost more than blood."