Amar materialized in his Koregaon Park apartment, the shadows of Shaniwar Wada's ancient fort fading as Pune's evening hum seeped through the window. His golden eyes glowed softly, the weight of The Messenger's warning heavy in his chest: a new Sound proxy, burning with vengeance, training to shatter his shadows. The God of Darkness, protector of the weak, scourge of the corrupt, gripped the folded parchment The Messenger had given him, its edges pulsing with a faint, otherworldly light. His bond with Darkness—a friendship, not servitude—set him apart from other proxies, their identities and motives a mystery, their world disconnected from his own. Ria's love and Uplift's impact anchored him, and his task force of 70–80 contracted allies, led by Vikram Rathore, strengthened his resolve. But the urgency to prepare, to build a base, pressed against him like the city's humid air.
He unfolded the parchment on his worn wooden table, the dim glow of a lamp casting jagged shadows across the intricate rune—a spiral of interlocking lines, sharp angles, and cryptic sigils that seemed to hum with latent power. The design felt alive, whispering of secrets older than the fort's stones. Amar's shadows coiled around his fingers as he traced the lines, his mind racing with questions. The Messenger had called it a teleportation rune, a gift to establish a proper base, but its nature eluded him. Closing his eyes, he reached out to Darkness, his voice a low pulse in the void. Darkness, I need you. The Messenger gave me this—a rune diagram. What is it?
The air thickened, and Darkness's presence enveloped the room, a warm, resonant voice like a friend's, edged with ancient wisdom. "This is no ordinary mark, Amar. It's an ancient rune, used by proxies of ages past. Draw it with my power, and it anchors a place—your base—where you and your contracted allies can teleport, but only to where an identical rune exists. For others, it's merely a drawing; for you, your task force, and those bound to you, it's a channel of transport."
Amar's golden eyes flickered, studying the parchment. "I can already teleport anywhere with your power. Why this rune?" His shadows stirred, reflecting his curiosity and the weight of his growing responsibilities.
Darkness's voice deepened, patient but firm. "True, your power lets you move freely, a gift of our bond. But your contracted allies—Vikram, Meera, the others—cannot. Their slivers of my power are limited. This rune lets them teleport to places where an identical diagram is drawn, linking your force across distances. You could create a network—safehouses, outposts—where they can move swiftly."
Amar's fingers tightened on the parchment, his mind envisioning his task force moving as one. "So I draw this, and they can use it? But what's the cost?" His voice carried the caution of one who'd seen power's price, from the lives he'd taken to the trust he'd earned.
"There's always a cost," Darkness replied, its tone steady. "Drawing and using the rune consumes power. When your allies teleport through it, you, as the proxy, bear the brunt. For lesser proxies, it's a heavy toll—exhaustion, weakness. But you, Amar, hold more of my power than most. You can use it freely, draw runes, teleport often, with little strain. Your allies can use it in emergencies, but sparingly, or it'll tax you still."
Amar nodded, his resolve hardening as he traced the rune's spiral with a shadowed finger, the parchment humming under his touch. "Then I'll create this network—a base, outposts. My task force needs every advantage against this Sound proxy, whoever he is." The Messenger's warning echoed in his mind, urging speed. "Can I draw it anywhere, make any place a base?"
"Yes," Darkness said, its voice warm with approval. "Choose a place that reflects your purpose—strong, hidden, yours. Draw the rune with my power, and it'll bind the space. Your allies can follow, but only where the rune exists." The air shimmered, Darkness's presence fading, leaving Amar alone with the parchment.
He stood, golden eyes burning with determination, the rune's potential unfolding in his mind—a way to unite his task force, to move swiftly against corruption, to face the vengeful proxy. The apartment's shadows danced, mirroring his growing ambition, his mission sharper than ever as he prepared to choose his base.