Mahakaal Parvat:
Dense fog coiled around Mahakaal Parvat like a living thing, thick and suffocating. The air itself felt tense, as if the mountain was holding its breath.
Near the edge of the hut, concealed within the shadows of the bushes, a small figure crouched low. From his hiding place, he watched the faint glow leaking through the cracks of the hut—dim, flickering, alive.
It was Neeraj.
The young prince's eyes were locked onto the hut, unblinking. His breathing was shallow, uneven, every inhale betraying the fear he was trying desperately to suppress.
He whispered to himself, barely louder than the wind brushing past the leaves.
"How long… how long are they going to stay inside?"
As Neeraj leaned forward, straining to catch even the slightest movement, a soft crunch echoed behind him—footsteps, careful but unmistakable.
Before he could react, a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and yanked him back.
Neeraj's breath hitched. His heart slammed violently against his ribs as he spun around, muscles tensing, mind already bracing for an attack.
But instead of an enemy, he found himself staring into a familiar face.
Prince Rudra stood before him, towering and rigid, his eyes sharp with disbelief and restrained fury.
"Neeraj?" Rudra said, his voice low but cutting.
"You?"
"What are you doing here?"
Neeraj froze, his mind scrambling for words. For a brief moment, panic flickered across his face—but he forced it down, masking his fear behind a fragile layer of courage.
"I… I'm sorry, Prince Rudra," Neeraj stammered, trying to steady himself, trying to sound braver than he felt.
"I was just… I was just wandering around—"
"Enough."
Rudra cut him off sharply.
"Silence. Not another word."
Neeraj flinched.
Rudra turned fully toward him, his eyes burning with a volatile mix of anger and confusion. Though his voice was controlled, it carried an unmistakable edge—like a blade held too tightly.
"Neeraj," he demanded, "why are you here?"
Neeraj shifted uneasily, his small hands trembling at his sides. He tried to compose himself, tried to stand straight like a prince should—but the fear in his eyes betrayed him.
"I… I came with all of you," he said, his voice shaking despite his effort to sound firm.
"To kill… to kill that monster."
Rudra's eyes widened in disbelief, his anger flaring instantly. His fists clenched as he leaned closer to Neeraj, his presence suddenly overwhelming—his voice sharp, accusatory.
"What?" Rudra snapped.
"You? You think you'll fight that monster with us?"
His gaze hardened. "And who—who told you about this demon?"
For a brief moment, Neeraj hesitated.
Then, almost foolishly proud of himself, a small, mischievous smile crept onto his face.
"I… I heard it," Neeraj said quietly.
"I heard Guru Shrikant and all of you planning. I was hiding… listening."
Rudra groaned in frustration, dragging a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the situation itself.
"By the gods…" he muttered.
Then he looked straight at Neeraj, his tone stern, heavy with authority.
"First of all, Neeraj, eavesdropping on elders is not bravery—it's stupidity."
He paused, his voice dropping lower, more serious.
"And second…"
Rudra's eyes flicked toward the dark forest, toward the mountain that seemed to watch them breathe.
"We are not here to kill mosquitoes."
A fierce resolve burned in Neeraj's eyes. He clenched his fists, stepping forward before Rudra could say another word.
"I know," Neeraj said, cutting in—his voice steady, unflinching.
"But I didn't come here by mistake. I came for revenge."
Rudra froze.
Something in Neeraj's tone made him pause. The anger on his face softened, slowly giving way to curiosity. He studied the boy more closely now—the tight jaw, the trembling restraint, the fire that didn't belong to a child.
"Revenge?" Rudra asked, genuinely surprised.
"For what?"
Neeraj's gaze dropped for a heartbeat.
When he spoke again, his voice wavered—caught between grief and rage.
"Because…" he said quietly,
"that monster killed my elder brother too."
The weight of Neeraj's words settled deep inside Rudra. His expression softened, the sharp edge in his eyes dulling as he exhaled slowly, finally understanding the depth of the boy's pain—and the resolve born from it.
"All right…" Rudra said at last, his voice calm but firm.
"I understand. But listen to me carefully."
He paused, locking eyes with Neeraj.
"When we face that monster, you will stay away from the fight."
Neeraj's shoulders tensed.
"But—" he began, his voice low, frustrated.
Before he could finish, Rudra's voice cut through the air—sharp, commanding, leaving no room for argument.
"If you promise me that," Rudra said firmly,
"then you can stay. Otherwise—"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it turned cold.
"I will drag you down this mountain right now."
Neeraj's shoulders sagged in quiet defeat. His lips pressed into a thin line, and after a long, heavy silence, he nodded—reluctantly.
"All right…" he said at last, letting out a slow breath.
"I promise."
As Rudra turned to leave, Neeraj's gaze drifted toward the forest around them. The darkness felt thicker now, the trees looming closer as the night deepened.
"I think you all should leave this place," Neeraj said uneasily.
"Look around… the night is growing darker."
Rudra stopped.
A faint, knowing smile curved his lips. He turned back toward Neeraj, his eyes gleaming with calm confidence—almost amusement.
"We don't need to go anywhere, Neeraj," Rudra said softly.
He paused, then lifted his hand and pointed toward the hut behind them.
"Because our prey…"
"…is standing right there, in front of us."
Neeraj's brows knit together in confusion. He turned his head toward the hut, where the soft glow of a lantern spilled into the darkness, outlining the figure of the yogi standing outside.
"Prey?" Neeraj said, stunned.
"But… I don't see any prey there."
Rudra's smile widened, slow and unsettling. His gaze remained fixed on the figure near the hut. Then, deliberately, he lifted his hand and pointed.
"Him."
Neeraj's eyes widened in disbelief. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at the yogi—calm, composed, quietly speaking with the princes, completely unaware of the danger hanging over him.
"Who?" Neeraj stammered, shaken.
"That yogi? But… he helped us. He saved our friend."
Rudra smiled with quiet cunning, the kind that never reached his eyes.
"Yes…" he said softly.
"But I am certain this is the same monster Guru Shrikant warned us about. As far as I know, Neeraj, there is no other living soul on this mountain."
He paused, letting the implication settle.
"And that can only mean one thing."
The weight of his words hit Neeraj all at once. His eyes widened as the pieces finally fell into place. He sucked in a sharp breath.
"You mean…" Neeraj whispered, his voice trembling with rising fear,
"he is the monster."
Rudra gave a slow, confident nod.
"Yes."
Still, doubt clung to Neeraj's young mind. He narrowed his eyes, searching Rudra's face for any crack of uncertainty.
"But… what if he isn't?" Neeraj asked hesitantly.
"What if we're wrong?"
Rudra's lips curved into a sharper, more dangerous smile. He leaned closer, lowering his voice until it sounded almost reassuring—almost kind.
"Oh, don't worry, Neeraj," he said calmly.
"I have a plan for that too."
Neeraj leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper filled with curiosity.
"And what is this plan, Prince?"
Rudra kept his gaze fixed on the yogi. His tone remained calm—almost indifferent—but there was iron beneath it, the kind only those born to command possessed.
"I will order one of the princes to attack him," Rudra said quietly, yet with unmistakable authority.
"If the yogi evades the attack… then his death is certain—because no ordinary man could do that."
"And if he fails to stop the prince…" Rudra continued, unblinking, "then we will apologize for the misunderstanding and proceed toward the mountain's peak."
A slow smile spread across Neeraj's face. Admiration lit his young eyes, bright and unhidden.
"Now that," Neeraj said softly, impressed,
"is the thinking of a true king, Prince Rudra."
Rudra did not respond.
From the shadows, he continued to observe the yogi's every movement—each breath, each subtle shift—searching for the smallest sign of deception. His jaw tightened, the weight of command settling heavily on his shoulders.
The decision had already been made.
And whatever happened next… would reveal the truth.
Devaraj Gurukul:
Inside the silent chamber of the Gurukul, the dim glow of oil lamps flickered against the stone walls, casting long, trembling shadows that seemed to breathe with the night. Bhola sat motionless before Guru Shiv, his face drained of color. The weight of the truth he had just heard pressed heavily upon his chest, and silent tears slipped from his eyes.
Bhola's voice trembled, barely rising above a whisper.
"Did… did all of this really happen to him?"
Guru Shiv's gaze remained distant, lost somewhere deep within memories he had tried to bury. Slowly, he nodded. His hands rested on his knees, fingers subtly shaking as the past clawed its way back into the present.
"Yes, Bhola," Guru Shiv said softly, his voice thick with regret.
"That is why… he was not always like this."