The Confession -
Kartik sat at the edge of his bed, the silence of the night pressing in around him like a shroud. The faint, closed-eye mark on his chest throbbed gently, like it had a heartbeat of its own. His fingers grazed over it once more before he rose and stepped quietly into the dimly lit living room.
His grandfather was sitting in his usual spot, sipping herbal tea beneath the warm orange glow of an old lamp. The man looked calm, like always, but as Kartik stepped closer, he could sense a deeper awareness behind those old eyes.
Without holding anything back, Kartik told him everything—the cave, the Shivling-like rock, the vision, the fainting, the mark, and the nightmares that followed.
His grandfather listened in silence, his eyes narrowing only slightly as Kartik finished. After a pause, he set his cup down and leaned forward.
"When I was younger," he began slowly, "I fell terribly ill. No doctor could understand what was wrong with me. I was on the brink of death. That's when someone came… from a place no one talks about anymore. A hidden village called Trinetra. They healed me. Not with medicines, but... with something else. Powers not found in textbooks or hospitals."
Kartik blinked. "You've seen this before?"
His grandfather nodded. "You've been touched by something ancient, Kartik. Something older than any temple or god worshipped openly today."
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a dusty, worn phonebook. After flipping through it with deliberate care, he dialed a number. His voice was low and steady as he spoke briefly, then nodded.
"Help is on the way."
The Warrior Arrives -
By dawn, a motorbike rumbled into the courtyard, its roar cutting through the morning mist. A young man climbed off, tall and powerfully built. His fair skin caught the morning light, and he wore a sleeveless hoodie that revealed his muscular arms. Wrapped around each arm, just above the elbows, was a plain light purple
circle—a tattoo-like marking that looked almost like a band of ink. It didn't glow or shift, but it stood out quietly, giving him a sense of mystery without exaggeration.
His jaw was sharp, and his eyes gleamed with calm intensity. He carried no visible weapons, yet something about him radiated quiet strength—like a storm held in stillness.
"I'm Veer," he said, giving Kartik a nod. "You're the one marked by the Eye?"
Kartik nodded slowly, but as he looked into Veer's eyes, something strange stirred within him. He felt a strong pull, a deep familiarity—like they had met before, though he couldn't say when or how. It was
comforting, powerful, and unexplainable.
"You're not alone anymore," Veer said, almost reading his thoughts.
He explained that he was the elder son of Kartik's grandfather's old friend and a warrior trained in Trinetra — a hidden village where divine guardians are forged, warriors who face threats the modern world doesn't believe in.
"You need to come with me," Veer said. "Trinetra holds the answers. But before that—do you have any unfinished business?"
Kartik hesitated, then looked down. "I need to see someone first. A friend… Ravi. He's sick. I just—I want to see him before we leave."
The Road to Shadows -
As they rode toward Ravi's house on the outskirts of town, the wind rustled through the trees, but the air felt unusually still—heavy with something unseen.
Kartik sat behind Veer, feeling a strange weight press against his chest as they drew closer. Veer slowed the bike as they passed a narrow alley and looked around cautiously.
"This area is… affected," Veer murmured.
"Affected?" Kartik asked.
Veer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pendant—a smooth black stone etched with a symbol that looked like a closed eye.
"Wear this," he said firmly. "Right now. And don't take it off under any circumstance."
Kartik obeyed without protest, sliding the pendant over his neck.
"There's a dark aura hanging over this place," Veer continued. "If your friend's health is fading for no reason, this may be why. Negative spirits feed on the weak. I've seen this before.
The Cry for Help -
Ravi's house was small and silent. The faint hum of a fan echoed above, and the windows were darkened with heavy curtains. Inside, the air was thick—stale and unmoving.
Ravi lay on his bed, pale and frail, like someone far older than his age. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow.
As Kartik stepped closer, Ravi stirred. His lips trembled, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
"K-Kartik…" he whispered, voice weak and broken. "Please… save me… I don't want to die."
Kartik knelt beside him, shaken. "You're not going to die, Ravi. I'm here."
Ravi's hand clutched his wrist weakly. "Something's… inside me. I hear it whispering… I can't… I can't fight it…"
Veer moved quietly across the room, scanning every shadow. He turned sharply toward Kartik. "Remove every mirror in this house. Now."
"Mirrors?" Kartik echoed, confused.
"Yes," Veer said, tone urgent. "They're gateways. Spirits can use them to enter or observe. Get rid of them."
Kartik scrambled around the room, pulling down an old wall mirror and covering a small dresser one.
Meanwhile, Veer approached Ravi with calm precision. He removed a strip of red cloth from his bag and a sacred thread marked with tiny knots. He began wrapping them around Ravi's wrists.
"The possession isn't complete yet," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "If I can bind him before it finishes—"
But before he could complete the sentence, Ravi's body convulsed violently.
A low, inhuman growl emerged from his throat.
Then, his eyes snapped open—pitch black.
In a blur of movement, Ravi lunged forward and punched Veer across the room. The force of the blow slammed Veer into the corner, crashing into a cabinet that splintered under his weight.
Kartik gasped in horror.
The boy he once knew stood now like a puppet, his head twitching, lips curled into a snarl.
Ravi was gone.