Kalinaya: Blood of the Forgotten Gods

Location: West Fringe Zone, Ruins of Kolkata

Date: October 12, 2029

Time: 3:36 PM

The first time someone called him that —

he didn't hear it directly.

A wounded man, crawling from a collapsed metro station, whispered:

"The Ash-Bearer saved me…"

Another survivor swore he saw a white-haired ghost kill three mutated hounds in seconds.

Soon, the name spread.

Not Yash.

Not leader.

Not protector.

"Ash-Bearer."

He hated it.

He didn't want to be known.

But Mira smirked when she heard it.

"You light fires and don't expect smoke?"

Reports came in:

More people were arriving at the outer districts.

Not refugees.

Not all weak.

Some were ex-army.

Some were scavengers.

Some… were hunters.

All were broken.

But they all asked for one thing:

"The shelter with the ash-mark.

The boy with the pale eyes.

The one who fights monsters without speaking."

Yash watched from the rooftop.

Khushi stood beside him, chewing a burnt biscuit.

"You're famous," she mumbled.

"I don't want fame," he replied.

"Then why do you help them?"

"Because no one helped us."

That night, Ankita brought him a bloodied jacket.

"We found a messenger," she said.

"He was carrying this."

Inside the pocket, a small paper.

One word, painted in black ash:

Ash-Bearer.

"They're watching you," she said.

"Not just the survivors.

The ones out there too."

Yash didn't ask who they were.

He already knew.

A man with no eyes.

A woman with six arms.

A shadow with horns.

Rakshasa-Viras.

They were coming.

And now they had a name to target.

But Yash didn't flinch.

He stood before the fire pit that night, looked at the fifty souls who had chosen to stay—

—and said:

"I am not a savior.

I am not your god.

I am ash.

I will burn with you.

I will fall with you.

Or rise, if you choose to fight."

And no one clapped.

No one cheered.

But they stood taller.

And for the first time, the Ashtashram flag was raised.

A hand, smeared with ash, reaching toward the sun.