The smoke of the defeated shadows still lingered in the air, curling into faint wisps before fading into nothing. The Golden Sanctuary was silent, but it wasn't the calm of peace—it was the silence of something waiting to be spoken.
Mukul stood at the centre, golden threads still alive at his fingertips. His eyes scanned the room, sharp, searching. This isn't finished, he thought. Those shadows weren't free agents. They moved too clean, too deliberate.
Kavya flicked her dagger into her palm, restless energy sparking in her eyes. "That was too easy. Whoever's behind this didn't expect us to hold out that long—but they'll be back."
Before Mukul could answer, the air thickened. The torches lining the Sanctuary walls sputtered, their flames bending inward as though pulled by an unseen gravity. A low hum reverberated, like the sound of strings being plucked deep beneath the ground.
And then, from the far end of the chamber, a figure began to form.
It wasn't smoke this time. It wasn't a flicker. It was deliberate.
A tall silhouette emerged, cloaked in robes darker than midnight. The hood cast the face in shadow, but a pair of eyes glowed faintly—silver, cold, unblinking. Each step echoed unnaturally loud, though the figure seemed barely to touch the floor.
The team instinctively shifted closer together, weapons raised.
"So," the figure said, voice smooth and chilling, carrying an almost amused tone, "the children of light learn faster than I expected."
Anaya's heart thudded. "You're the one pulling them."
The figure tilted its head slightly. "Pulling? No. Guiding. Shaping. Teaching shadows how to cut through the illusions of light. But you… You've turned the dance into something else."
"Cut the riddles," Kavya snapped, her dagger flashing. "Who are you?"
The figure chuckled softly. "Names are weights. Titles are veils. But if you must call me something… call me the Puppeteer."
The word rippled through the Sanctuary, heavy with menace.
Mukul's threads tightened instinctively, spreading in a web across the floor. "You sent them here to study us. To break us apart piece by piece."
"To study you, yes," the Puppeteer said, his voice calm. "But not to break you—not yet. I wanted to see how long you would last. And now, I see the threads are not as fragile as I thought." His eyes gleamed brighter. "You're weaving faster than the pattern allows."
Meera nocked an arrow, her voice steady despite the weight in the air. "Why show yourself now? If you wanted to stay hidden, you could have."
"Because," the Puppeteer said simply, "you deserve to know the game you've been dragged into. And because it is far more satisfying to watch prey struggle when they understand the hand holding the strings."
The shadows along the walls stirred faintly, writhing as though alive, though none dared to step forward.
Saira's healing aura pulsed, a quiet shield around the group. "If you think we'll just stand here and let you pull us like dolls—"
"Let?" The Puppeteer's laugh was soft, but it vibrated through the air, unsettling. "No. You won't let me. You'll fight. That's what makes it beautiful."
Mukul's gaze locked on the glowing eyes beneath the hood. "You revealed yourself for one reason—to make us doubt, to fracture us before the real fight begins."
The Puppeteer smiled faintly, though his face was still hidden in shadow. "And perhaps… to give you hope. Because hope, little weaver, is the sharpest thread to cut when the time is right."
With that, the torches around the chamber snuffed out in unison. Darkness swallowed everything.
When light returned—only a heartbeat later—the Puppeteer was gone.
The team stood in silence, breathing heavy, every sense on edge.
Kavya cursed under her breath. "Stylish exit."
Mukul didn't answer right away. His threads pulsed faintly, golden light weaving across the floor like a heartbeat trying to steady itself. Finally, he spoke, voice low and steady.
"He's not just watching us. He's writing the script. And if we don't change the story… We'll be trapped in it."
The others exchanged uneasy looks.
The shadows weren't just enemies anymore. They had a master. And now, the game had truly begun.