For a moment, the world stilled.
His lashes fluttered, adjusting slowly to the pale light, and his eyes—silver, luminous, deep and haunted met hers. Astra drew in a sharp breath. Recognition flickered in her expression, something ancient and aching stirring in her chest.
Their eyes locked. Astra stared, breath hitching. There was something in his gaze, something unmistakable. She knew those eyes. Her heart stuttered as recognition bloomed sharp and sudden.
Before either could speak—
The voices returned.
A hundred screams, ragged and raw, rising from the trees like smoke. The dark twisted with black mist, spiraling around the fire, circling like wolves around prey.
Kriya moved in an instant, wrapping his arms around Astra and pulling her close, shielding her body with his. His heartbeat thundered against her—erratic, frantic like it might tear from his ribs.
Astra couldn't speak. Her body moved before thought—arms clutching him tightly, instinctively, without knowing why. Her eyes remained wide, locked on the circling shadows as the spirits closed in.
One of them lunged forward.
Kriya swung his arm, and the flames surged higher violent and untamed. Fire roared up the trees, consuming the first wave of shadows in a burst of searing light. The spirits shrieked, their howls splitting the air, louder now feral, furious, endless.
But it wasn't enough.
Kriya's breath hitched, uneven. His chest rose too fast, too sharp. The fire bent with his pulse, flickering wildly as his control slipped. His fingers trembled, jaw clenched, heart pounding like it was about to rip out of him. Something inside was unraveling.
Astra could barely hold on. Her grip tightened around him, face buried in his shoulder, as the air thickened with heat and ash. She didn't understand the force that was surging through him—but she could feel it.
His voice was low strained, almost breaking. "Astra… go. Now. I… I can't hold it…"
But Astra didn't move. She pushed against his chest, her breath ragged, eyes locking onto his. "What's happening to you?" she demanded. "What is this?"
Kriya turned sharply, hurling another wave of flame toward the encroaching spirits. They shrieked as the fire tore through them, their wails echoing through the trees like broken glass. The air reeked of scorched earth and something darker old, restless.
He reached for her again, but this time she stepped back. Confused. Scared. Her voice cracked.
"Who are you…?"
His hand froze in midair, fingers curled as if grasping something that wasn't there. His jaw tightened. Then, with a force that cut through the chaos, he yanked her forward.
"Didn't you recognize me?" he said low, harsh, rough like something splintering inside him. His silver eyes darkened beneath the weight of something she couldn't name.
"No…" she whispered, barely audible over the roar of fire.
Around them, the flames burst outward, furious and wild, reacting to his rising unrest. The fire wasn't protecting anymore… it was consuming.
Kriya's breath trembled. He tried to steady himself, voice strained, desperate against the chaos. "Astra… can you do one thing for me?"
She didn't answer—couldn't. Her mind was spiraling, dragged beneath everything she couldn't understand. Smoke. Screams. His eyes.
He reached into his sleeve, hand trembling slightly, and pulled out a black-lacquered mirror—its edges etched in silver markings, ancient and cold. He pressed it into her palm with a firm whisper. "If any of these spirits possess me… use this mirror. And break it."
Astra looked down at it, dazed. "What…? Why? What is this?"
He didn't answer her confusion. Just leaned in, his breath ghosting past her ear. Quiet, urgent—he whispered a chant.
The words curled through her like smoke strange, sharp, almost foreign. Astra nodded slowly, trying to hold onto them, to carve them into memory through the pounding in her skull. But nothing stayed. Not in that moment. Everything she heard slipped through her mind like water through trembling fingers.
Then he pulled back, eyes shadowed with something darker. "You'll need spiritual energy to wield it. If not… it could tear your soul apart. Miss even a single word, delay even a moment—and it won't just fail. The spirit inside could escape. And it won't stop at me."
Astra gripped the mirror tighter, her knuckles pale. Her voice cracked. "But I don't… I don't have any spiritual power. I never did—what if I do it wrong? If I mess it up? I don't even remember what you just said! How am I supposed to—?"
Before she could finish, Kriya rose swiftly, stepped forward, and pulled her upright—his arm wrapping around her waist, drawing her close one final time. His voice was calm, but the fire behind his eyes was relentless.
"Those instructions were for the ordinary… but you—" He looked at her. "All you need… is power."
Astra's eyes widened, breath catching, a cold bead of sweat slipping down her temple.
His voice was soft—too soft for the look in his eyes. "It will hurt… just for a moment. Forgive me."
She barely had time to flinch.
A flash of silver.
A sharp gasp.
The blade slipped between her ribs clean, precise.
Her body jerked as pain erupted through her, raw and blinding, hotter than the flames closing in. Her knees gave out, but he held her, steadying her as her blood spilled, his grip trembling.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came only a choked breath. Her lashes fluttered. Then her eyes shut.
Kriya sank with her, easing her down into the ash-laced earth. He rested his forehead gently against hers, breath shallow, voice cracked.
"I made a mistake…" he whispered. "I realised it too late. The main seal… wasn't inside you. It's inside me."
His words hung in the air like smoke.
But the spirits had caught the scent of blood.
They shrieked, clawing through the mist dozens of them, but then turned, suddenly tearing into each other, devouring themselves in a frenzy of chaos. Screams multiplied, not in pursuit but in madness.
The mirror in her hand pulsed once, as if awakened by the wound, and then the world around her began to bend warped light, trembling air.
Kriya looked up.
He rose—barely—swaying on his feet. Blood dripped from his lips as he coughed again, sharp and wet, painting his palm crimson.
The fire in his eyes flickered… dimmer now, burning on sheer will alone.
Around him, the air twisted with the lingering aftermath of chaos. The forest crackled, and in the eerie silence that followed the massacre, only one spirit remained.
It hovered among the ash twisting, convulsing, pulsing with a grotesque light. Its shape was shifting, grotesquely warped by the devoured remnants of its kind. Something monstrous had been born from their cannibalism. Something wrong.
A slow, low hum filled the clearing. And then movement. With a shriek like splintering bone, the spirit surged toward him.
Kriya barely turned. His limbs refused to obey. His breath hitched.
The spirit collided with his chest an eruption of force like a windless explosion and sank inward.
Kriya arched, a strangled scream torn from his throat as the darkness punched into him. His body convulsed, limbs jerking unnaturally, mouth open in a silent cry. The fire around them surged in response flickering violently, drawn into him as if feeding the possession.
Veins blackened beneath his skin. His fingers clawing into the dirt for something, anything to anchor him.
A growl escaped his throat, but it wasn't his voice anymore.
The spirit didn't just enter—it consumed. Took hold. Warped.
A deep, vibrating silence followed… too still. Then his head jerked toward the sky.