Chandraksh Territory — Festival Grounds
The winter sky above Chandraksh glittered with falling snow, soft as whispers yet brightened by the bursts of celebration. Firecrackers bloomed in icy air like fiery lotuses. Trees, blanketed in frost, shimmered with lights. Lanterns floated, laughter echoed, and the scent of roasted meats curled through the white night. It was the Festival of Lights in the frozen kingdom Chandraksh basked in joy.
Through the cheering crowds and under glowing arches, two figures slipped through quietly Chandrika and her friend, cloaked in urgency. They made their way to a guarded military camp set up on the edge of the central square, where Tiger Army warriors watched with precision. This was no ordinary camp it was the festival's silent shield. Inside, they met Master Snake one of the Nine Elite Leaders of the Tiger Army. A tall man with piercing emerald eyes, he stood like a blade sheathed in calm. The moment Chandrika entered, he bowed, sensing both her royal blood and her unrest.
"Princess," he said, "you look troubled."
Chandrika didn't waste time. Her voice was composed, but her eyes still held the shadow of what she'd seen. "There was an attack in the northern trails. A bear creature, mutated, aggressive. But that wasn't the strange part… Someone saved us." Master Snake frowned. "Must be one of the guardian, don't worry about that princesses. Our duety is to protect you. You are not injured, are you?"
"No," she said coldly. "Not a man. Something... else protected us. A warrior with unnatural strength. He fought like he belonged to war itself. His eyes… one of them glowed violet like it held darkness inside it. It wasn't kindness. It wasn't duty. He saved us but not to protect us. He was just…I don't know why he protect us." Her friend added, trembling, "We felt like prey under his gaze. His aura dark, heavy, like murder wore a skin. Not of this world." Master Snake stepped forward, "Is he following you?" Chandrika nodded. "I can feel him. He's close. Somewhere near the festival. He's watching." Master Snake's expression darkened. "Do you believe he carries a fossil weapon?"
Chandrika hesitated. Then slowly, "I don't know what he holds… But I know fear. I'm a warrior, Snake. I've seen soldiers break. I've fought horrors in the snowy wilds. But today, for the first time my instincts whispered run." Master Snake's breath caught as she continued. "That aura… It wasn't just death. It was domination. Like the air obeyed him. The only time I've felt something even close to that…" "…was in the presence of Shiva." The room fell utterly silent.
Master Snake took a step back. "You mean... him? The Night Demon?" Chandrika nodded slowly. "Vardha's aura—whoever he is was almost as dark as Shiva's. But not the same. Master Snake turned to the window, staring out into the snow-lit festival. "This changes everything," he muttered. "If someone with even a shadow of Night Demon's aura is approaching Chandraksh, then we cannot risk waiting." Chandrika asked, "What do you mean?" He turned to her, voice low, deadly serious. "We need to awaken Rudra."
The name struck the room like thunder. Silence fell in the command tent like a blade through the cold. Master Snake's voice still echoed faintly in the frost-bitten air: "We have to awaken Rudra." Chandrika's breath hitched. Her eyes, sharp and battle-hardened, flared with a flash of protest. A single name. And the world inside the tent shattered. Rudra. The memory came rushing backripping through every soul in that room like a blade.
Seven winters ago…
Shiva the prodigy of light had become the monster of darkness. Armed with the Arrow of Teja, he had carved through armies like paper, obliterating Sindhagiri's finest with light-speed precision. His fossil weapon, infused with cosmic fire, made him untouchable worshipped by allies, feared by enemies. He became legend and hope of chandraksh's future. Until the night of Amavasya. When the sky cracked… and something fell.
A darkness. Ancient. Whispering. No one saw it coming. No one understood it. But Shiva changed. That day, he abandoned his people. And when he returned he came not as a protector, but as a plague. He descended upon Chandraksh his own homeland with the fury of a god corrupted. Fires burned where prayers once rose. The Nine Elite Leaders stood against him each a legend. And each, defeated. Even Tiger, Shiva's own father, the unstoppable Rishabh, fell his heart too full of love to strike the child he once cradled.
It was the end. And then Rudra came. Seventeen. No fossil weapon. No divine gifts. Just blood, courage, and an unwillingness to kneel. He stood between Shiva and annihilation. And was struck down. One slash of shiva's new evil powers and rudra was dead. The battlefield went still.
Until— "Dam... dam... dam... dm dm dm dm..."
A sound echoed. A rhythm ancient, unholy, divine. The sound of a damru. Everyone turned. Even Shiva -his eyes wide in disbelief. From behind him… Rudra stood. Alive. No weapon. No expression. His body upright, wounded but… empty. Like a vessel. And yet—his entire form was wrapped in a burning aura of bluish-red energy, flickering like cosmic flames, churning like a wrathful sea. No pain. No emotion. Only presence.
One side: Shiva—a monster cloaked in darkness, eyes glowing with corrupted intent.
The other: Rudra—a hollow form lit by an unknown god's fury.
The damru's sound grew faster. "Dm dm dm dm dm dm dm..." Shiva stepped back, unsure. "You... died." Rudra didn't answer. Just stared. And then, without a word—Shiva fired. The Arrow of Death—his most lethal strike, powered by Teja's fossil force—raced through the battlefield, light-speed and certain. But before it could touch—
Rudra moved. And the arrow shattered. Not blocked. Not dodged. Shattered. Shiva's breath caught. And then Rudra struck. A blur. A flash. A storm. The sky wept fire as two forces collided—one born of corrupted divinity, the other of something older… something terrifying. Their battle shook the world, shook the heavens. Mountains split. Rivers vapourizing, ice melting. For three days, the war between Shiva and Rudra painted the sky red. Rudra didn't fight to protect Chandraksh. He didn't fight for the people.He fought because something inside him had awakened when he was nearly dead, something not from this world, not from fossil powers. Something that wasn't Rudra, not living.
And in the final clash, Shiva—who had known no fear, no equal—retreated. Broken. Shaken. Terrified. He vanished into the darkness. And Rudra… collapsed. He never awoke. But the people of Chandraksh never forgot what they saw. That night, they named Shiva -The Night Demon. And Rudra -The Ninth Fragment of Lord Mahadeva. But rudra was feared, not worshiped on the name of great god mahadeva. Because what they saw in him... wasn't human. The rage. The power. The madness.
He became a sealed threat—entombed in an ancient vault, guarded by 9,800 evil energies, protected by a seal so powerful, even gods not dare to scratch it. The same Rudra—now spoken of only in whispers. And now, Master Snake had said—"We need to awaken Rudra." Everyone knows what that mean. And nobody wanted to see rudra's that side again. Everyone opposed to remove him from that seal, that curse brought upon him by fear of chandraksh's people.
Far Beyond the City Walls – Chandraksh's Outer Border
A shadow stepped onto the edge of the icy peak above himkanya chandraksh's natural defence wall of huge mountain. Tall. Cloaked in black embers. Eyes burning with violet hunger. Vardha. He stood at the summit of the northern cliff, the entire kingdom sprawled below him like a feast. The cold didn't touch him. The height didn't faze him. Only one thing stirred him now—Destruction. A slow, cruel grin curled across his face as he looked down on the peaceful kingdom. He whispered, almost with amusement… almost with reverence: "The second shard of the moon is here, hmm…" He raised a single gloved hand, fingers flexing as if tasting the energy in the air.
"Get ready, people of Chandraksh..." "The Hell commander is at your borders."
Then— A tear in the sky.
The wind split open behind him with a shrieking gust, as thick black fog swirled from nowhere. The frost itself began to rot, as if recoiling from the presence now emerging. From within the twisting stormcloud— Yama stepped out. The monstrous Yak took shape in midair, his hooves not even touching ground, his breath thick with violet smoke. Horns curled like obsidian blades. His body pulsed with demonic energy. He hovered just behind Vardha—his towering form a mirror of ancient wrath. And together, they stared down at the kingdom.
One man. One beast.
Two shadows from a forgotten hell.
Watching. Waiting. Smiling.
To be continued