They watched from the shadows, crouched in the corner until pale light bled into the cave's mouth. By the time morning arrived, the cavern was empty—everyone had melted away. He had waited for that morning; now it had come, and with it the terrible truths he had overheard in the dark.
They spoke of erasing poverty with blood—of offering human lives as sacrifice to sate their god and strengthen his power. They spoke, too, of destroying the earth. Their voices were calm, certain, as if doom were only a matter of organization. These people had formed themselves into a band, a tight unit ready to obey a single command. When it sounded, the hidden devils would sweep over the world.
Abhishek's jaw tightened. He could not fight alone. "Shivam," he said, urgent and steady, "we must build a team. You and I cannot do this by ourselves. Go to Rishabh—tell him what's happened. Tell him to bring the princess with him. And when you get there, tell both princesses everything you heard. Bring them back to the village. The villagers will listen to them; without the princesses the village is incomplete."
Shivam nodded. Abhishek went on, mapping the plan with the impatient clarity of someone pressed for time. "We need young, fearless warriors—people who will put their lives on the line to protect the village. We don't have much time. First, we must make our army strong. Then we strike at the cultists' camps during daylight—the sun will expose them. If we attack at night, our soldiers risk being picked off. Tell the princess to rally the women of her village and the neighboring ones. Tell them to pick up weapons. Anyone can fight—boy or girl—if they have the heart. Only those willing to sacrifice their lives should join us. Courage matters more than anything."
"Go," Abhishek said finally. "I will try to finish what I can here before the sun climbs. If I can, I will destroy this cave—erase the place that houses their power. Without this cavern, perhaps Goga and the rest of them will lose their hold." He hesitated, then added, softer, "But the princess is from this forest. I can't break the cave without freeing her and Devi first. I'll hide in the cave again until I can learn more—no one will notice me if I'm careful."
Shivam left for Rishabh and the princess. Abhishek stayed, waiting for noon to come and for the sun to expose the dark heart of the cavern. He began to chip away at the stone. With every strike, doubt gnawed at him: if he demolished the cave entirely, where would he take the princess? Where would Devi go? He could not act selfishly. He needed a way to free them both.
So he retreated into the cave and adopted a corner where the shadows hugged the walls. From that hidden perch he watched and listened, trying to go unnoticed. If he could discover what the cultists planned, where their men were hidden, which places they called home—then he could find a way to strike back.
Night fell. At midnight a strange light pulsed through the cavern, and one by one, the conspirators slipped in as if summoned. Abhishek's breath stilled; the sight startled him—where had they come from? He could not tell, but he remained perfectly still, ears straining.
First came a shadow—impossible to define, giving shape to the rest. After it, the others followed, bound as if their wills were nothing more than the shadow's paper slips—obedient to its command. When the shadow settled, the meeting began.
They spoke of finishing the fight quickly, of seizing the future and stretching their conquest beyond this world. They would begin with the earth, they said, because the blood of its people had the richest taste. They argued, planned, joked even about capturing the two beautiful nymphs—about what to do with them if they married one of the cultists. Someone suggested freeing a stone-turned maiden and then forcing her into a fate she could not survive.
Abhishek listened in horror as they discussed feasts of blood and the domination of other planets, the casual cruelty of their talk flashing like knives. A voice, calmer and older, reminded them of their orders: to drink, to obey, to carry out the work they had been called to do. "We will take Maharaj away," the voice said; "leave the rest and think of food and drink." If they continued, the older man warned, they might be devoured by Maharaj's wrath.
A plan unfolded—ambitious, obscene. Abhishek's mind raced. This was worse than he had imagined. Yet he felt something else rising in him: a fierce resolve. When one of them spoke of unfreezing the two captives—of tempting them into a false freedom and then forcing marriage—Abhishek's hand tightened around the rock at his feet.
He pictured Shivam with the princesses, Rishabh hurrying toward them, the villagers rising with newfound courage. He pictured the sun, sharp and merciless, catching the cultists unawares. He pictured an army not of iron but of hearts—people who would fight with mind and spirit, not only with steel.
When the conspirators fell into deeper plotting, Abhishek made his choice. He would not wait for the cult to strike the world. He would free the captives. He would dismantle the cave's power from within, even if it meant risking everything. If it came to it, he would give his life for the village, for the princess, for Devi—for the fragile chance of a dawn without their shadows.
Outside, somewhere in the night, the murmur of footsteps told him the plan had begun. The world trembled as both sides prepared: one, a cabal of blood-drunk zeal; the other, a ragged, steadfast hope that would take shape in the hands of those who dared to rise.
As soon as they began to free the princess from the stone, something surged within me—the power of my mind, sharp and unstoppable. In that instant, I moved. Faster than a storm's breath, faster than the shadow of lightning, I crossed the space between us.
By the time the last shard of stone fell away from her body, I had already acted. Before they could even blink, I snatched the princess and the forest goddess from their captors. My speed was greater than Aadhi's winds; my will was a blade cutting through air and time.
The cavern blurred around us—walls and flames and chanting faces melting into streaks of darkness. They did not even know where we had gone. One heartbeat, we were in their grasp; the next, we were gone, carried beyond their reach.
At last, I reached the farthest end of the cave. My feet halted on the edge of a hidden passage, and for the first time since I had moved, I allowed myself to breathe. There, in the dim light, I set the princess gently down beside the forest goddess.
Their eyes were wide with disbelief, but the villagers who had followed us—silent, watching from the shadows—looked at me with something else. Hope. Reverence. In their faces I saw the weight of their fear and the flicker of their courage. In that moment, they no longer saw me as just a man.
They saw their deliverer.
They saw their messiah.