Kalinaya: Blood of the Forgotten Gods

Location: Ashtashram Interior

Date: October 20, 2029

Time: 3:03 AM

The first sound was a whisper.

Not speech.

Not wind.

A pulse.

Like someone breathing through stone.

Mira woke first.

Then the guards noticed the boundary alarms had failed.

The eastern gate was open.

But there were no signs of a break.

Yash stepped into the hallway.

Something felt off.

His ashmark flickered.

But there was no presence.

No divine signal.

No enemy to see.

Just a pressure.

Then came the first scream.

A boy in the lower dorm.

He'd vanished by the time they arrived.

Only his blood remained —

in a perfect circle.

Rishav called it "The Quiet One."

Ankita called it a trap.

Khushi didn't speak at all —

she just pointed to the ceiling.

Mira adjusted her drone.

"It's here," she whispered.

"But it's not looking. It's listening."

Yash understood.

The Rakshasa-Vira had sent this thing.

A hunter.

Not to kill.

To study.

The shelter blacked out.

All lights gone.

Total darkness.

Ankita held her breath.

The air felt thick.

And then—

Step.

Step.

Not walking.

Crawling.

From the walls.

From the ceiling.

It didn't make sound.

But it responded to one thing:

Heartbeat.

Mira covered Khushi's ears.

Told her to hold her breath.

Rishav poured flour across the floor to catch the movement.

Smart.

But not enough.

Because the thing didn't step.

It flowed.

Like liquid shadow.

Yash closed his eyes.

Reached inward.

The broken clock sigil on his hand pulsed.

Pause time? No. Not enough strength.

Reverse? Too dangerous here.

Speed forward? Not yet.

He chose instead to do something simple.

Stillness.

Every breath silenced.

Every muscle locked.

He became a statue.

The thing passed inches from him.

Its head turned — no eyes.

But something in its face knew.

Knew fear.

Knew pain.

But it didn't act.

It memorized.

Then slid back into the shadows.

As dawn came, five were gone.

No bodies.

Just silence.

Yash carved a symbol above the gate:

"We speak for the dead.

But we do not scream for them."

And he whispered a name into the wind—

"I know you sent it."

"Next time, send something braver."