Episode 23:
The festival ended for everyone else with laughter and fireworks.
For Alok, it ended in silence.
Rihan wouldn't stop staring at him as they walked home.
"What happened back there?" his friend pressed.
"Don't lie to me, Alok. I saw it. You… you set your hand on fire."
Alok's throat tightened. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hiding the faint burn marks that still stung his palm.
"It was nothing," he muttered.
"Just… stress. Hallucination, maybe."
Rihan stopped walking. His tone sharpened.
"Don't you dare give me that crap. I've known you since we were kids. You've been acting weird for months always running, always pale, always looking behind you like something's following. Now I see it with my own eyes, and you still want to pretend?"
Alok froze.
He wanted to scream the truth. He wanted to beg his friend to believe. But if he said it out loud, if he admitted what stalked him in the shadows… it would become real.
"I can't," he whispered. "Please, just… don't ask again."
Rihan's jaw clenched. He walked ahead, silent, leaving Alok behind.
That night, Alok lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His chest felt heavy, suffocating.
For the first time, he whispered to himself:
"…What am I?"
The room grew colder. His pendant glowed faintly. Shadows deepened around him, stretching unnaturally across the walls.
And then he heard it.
A voice. Not his own.
Not human.
"You are mine."
Alok shot up, clutching the pendant. His breath quickened.
"Who's there?! What do you want from me?!"
The air shimmered, and for a brief moment he saw her again the pale guardian figure. The chains of light that once saved him now hung loose and broken around her form.
Her lips moved, though her voice was distant, echoing like a memory:
"Not ready… still too weak… survive… until…"
The words cracked, distorted, fading. Her body flickered like static, and then she was gone.
Alok fell back against the bed, trembling. He wanted to believe she was protecting him, but her fading image felt more like a curse than salvation.
The next morning at school, rumors spread about the "stall fire" at the festival.
No one could explain how a stall caught flame but left no burn marks behind.
Only Rihan knew the truth or part of it.
He cornered Alok in the hallway, eyes burning.
"I'm not letting this go," he said. "Whatever's happening to you, I'm going to find out. Even if you won't tell me."
Alok felt his stomach drop. Rihan's loyalty was becoming dangerous.
And somewhere in the unseen layers of reality, that masked beast from the festival was watching again waiting, learning.
That night, Alok dreamt of fire and chains.
Of voices calling his name.
And of an endless stairway leading into darkness.
At the top stood the masked creature.
Behind it, a throne of shadows.
And sitting upon that throne was someone who looked like him.
Not weak, not trembling.
But cruel.
"Soon," the dream version of himself whispered.
"You'll stop running… and start becoming me."
Alok woke in a cold sweat, heart hammering.
He pressed the pendant against his chest, whispering desperately:
"…No. That's not me. That will never be me."
But in the silence of the night, the pendant pulsed once, as if disagreeing.