The first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, painting the hut's walls in muted gold. Shiva still sat on the earthen floor, staring at his hands — at the faintly glowing tattoos that pulsed like living things beneath his skin. One shimmered with the orange hue of flame, the other with the cool silver of moonlit wind.
The voices had gone quiet, but their echo lingered in his mind.
Shyam Baba poured water into a clay cup and handed it to him. "Drink," he said. "You've crossed another threshold."
Shiva took it, his eyes still fixed on his palms. "They spoke to me," he murmured. "Both of them — Ram and Deer. They said they were bound to my soul."
Baba nodded slowly. "So the link is complete. You carry the will of Agni and Vayu now."
Shiva looked up sharply. "Then tell me, Baba — what does all of this mean? Why me?"
The old hermit smiled faintly, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "Because you are the bridge between the old and the new. You are meant to awaken what was lost… and carry forward what must not die."
Shiva frowned. "You speak in riddles again."
Baba chuckled. "The truth always sounds like one before it's understood." He turned toward the small wooden chest near the altar and opened it. Inside lay two parchment scrolls — the ones Shiva had recovered from the ruins and from Bhairava's temple.
"Before you set out again," Baba said, "you must meditate on these two scrolls with the Navarn Mantra. Bhairava gave it to you for a reason."
Shiva blinked. "Meditate now? But—"
Baba raised a hand. "No 'but,' Shiva. Each scroll you carry holds more than ink. They are keys to your evolution — and to the truth of your existence."
Shiva's jaw tightened. "Baba, I can't. Not now."
The old man's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because Aparna needs me!" Shiva's voice rose suddenly, emotion cracking through the calm morning air. "She's in pain, Baba. I saw her. She told me she's trapped — that I have to find her. The third scroll is in Deoghar. If I waste time meditating, she might—"
"Enough!" Baba's voice cut through the air like a whip.
Shiva froze. He had never heard the hermit raise his voice before.
"Your path is not one of emotion," Baba said, his tone stern. "It is one of balance. You carry the essence of two forces — fire and wind — both fierce, both unstable. If you rush forward without grounding them, they will consume you before you ever reach her."
"I don't care!" Shiva snapped. "If it means I can save her, then I'll burn myself if I have to!"
Shyam Baba stood, eyes blazing with divine authority. "You will do as I say. Meditate on the scrolls. Invoke the Navarn Mantra. Only then—"
"No," Shiva interrupted, his voice trembling but resolute. "I've followed your words blindly till now — fought your battles, faced your tests. But not anymore. I will not sit and chant while she suffers!"
He turned toward the doorway, his pulse thundering. The tattoos on his hands flickered, reacting to the turmoil in his heart.
"Shiva—" Baba called.
But Shiva didn't stop.
"I'll find her myself," he said over his shoulder. "Even if I have to fight the gods themselves."
And with that, he stormed out into the breaking dawn.
The journey to Deoghar took him three days.
He barely rested, driven by the image of Aparna's tear-streaked face. The whispers of the Ram and Deer echoed faintly in his mind, trying to reason with him — but he shut them out.
By the time he reached the outskirts of Deoghar, the world had turned strange.
The temple stood on a plateau of cracked stone, its spires blackened by some unknown force. The once-sacred air was thick with decay and whispering rot. Shiva slowed his steps, sensing danger long before he saw it.
Then — movement.
Dozens of figures lurched into view.
Human, but wrong.
Their eyes were hollow, their skin marred with gray lesions and pulsing veins of black light. The infected.
Behind them came the beasts — twenty of them, snarling, half-formed, caught between animal and nightmare. Their bones jutted through their hides, their roars shaking the dust from the cliffs.
Shiva's grip tightened on his hammer.
"Stay behind me," he muttered instinctively — though there was no one there. Still, the tattoos pulsed faintly, answering his intent.
"We are with you," the Ram's deep voice said in his head.
"But they are many," whispered the Deer, its tone uncertain.
"Then we cut through them all," Shiva growled.
He leapt forward — hammer in one hand, Vajra-Vāyu sword in the other. His blows struck with thunder, each swing scattering sparks and sending beasts sprawling. The Ashen Ram's flame roared through his veins, while the Deer's agility made his steps blur like wind.
But there were too many.
The infected swarmed from every direction. One clawed at his leg, another tore at his back. Shiva roared, hammer swinging — until a sickening crack echoed through the battlefield.
His hammer had broken.
The haft splintered, and the head clattered across the stone, rolling into the dust.
"No—!" Shiva's voice broke. His movements slowed, exhaustion catching up at last.
A beast leapt at him, jaws wide. Another raked its claws across his shoulder. He barely parried with the sword before being thrown backward into the ruins of an old shrine.
The world spun. His blood ran hot, his vision dimming.
And then, through the chaos — the voices again.
"Run, Shiva!"
"We will guide you!"
Before he could resist, a surge of wind wrapped around his body, carrying him backward. Flames burst from his palms, pushing the infected away just long enough for him to escape.
He stumbled through the forest, half-conscious, guided by unseen currents of air and streaks of faint orange light. The beasts — his beasts — carried his failing body across the night until, through blurred vision, he saw the familiar outline of the hut.
Shyam Baba stood waiting at the entrance, torch in hand.
As Shiva collapsed at his feet, the old man sighed deeply.
"Stubborn boy," he murmured. "You've learned nothing yet."
The tattoos on Shiva's hands flickered weakly — the Ram and the Deer whispering softly, their tones weary but alive.
"We saved him…"
"But only barely…"
The night swallowed the hut in silence once more.
End of Chapter 18 — "Defiance of the Disciple"