Jhansi was quiet that night.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet—
but the kind that made even insects hesitate.
Bharav Nagar noticed it while standing on the roof of his house, looking toward the old fort that loomed over the city like a watchful ghost. The wind moved, yet no sound followed. The lamps along the road flickered as if unsure whether they should stay lit.
Something was wrong.
Bharav had felt it since sunset—a pressure beneath his skin, subtle but persistent, like fingers pressing from the inside. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the feeling away, but it only grew stronger.
"You're imagining things," he muttered.
He had always been told he was different.
From birth, really.
The elders whispered when they thought he couldn't hear. Children stared when he bathed in the river, their eyes drawn to the strange markings etched across his body. His mother used to say it was a blessing. His father never spoke of it at all.
The Shash Chin.
Serpent-like patterns covered Bharav's torso, arms, and back—faint, almost dormant most days, like old ink beneath the skin. They were not tattoos made by human hands. He had been born with them.
Tonight, they felt… warm.
Bharav descended from the roof and entered his house. The air inside was heavier, thick with the scent of herbs and something bitter beneath it. His gaze drifted, almost unwillingly, toward the wooden shelf near the wall.
The bottle was still there.
Small. Sealed. Ordinary.
Poison.
It had belonged to his grandfather—and before him, to the men of the Nagar line. No one ever explained why it was kept, only that it was not to be touched until the day Bharav "felt the call."
That phrase had always irritated him.
Calls were for priests and madmen, not for someone who hunted wild boars and guarded Jhansi's outer paths.
Yet his hand moved on its own.
The moment his fingers brushed the bottle, the warmth beneath his skin flared sharply. Bharav hissed and pulled back—but the sensation did not fade.
Instead, it answered him.
A pulse.
Like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
Bharav stared at the bottle for a long moment. Memories surfaced—Vighnaraj Bhatt's voice, low and stern, speaking of bloodlines and duties. Of ancestors who were not entirely human. Of serpents who watched from beneath the earth.
He exhaled slowly.
"If this kills me," he said quietly, "you better haunt me properly."
He uncorked the bottle.
The poison inside was dull green, thicker than water, shimmering faintly in the lamplight. No stench rose from it. No warning.
Bharav drank.
The effect was instant.
Fire tore through his throat and slammed into his chest like a hammer. His knees buckled, and he crashed to the floor, the bottle shattering beside him. His breath hitched as pain exploded through his veins, crawling outward with terrifying speed.
"G—gh—!"
His vision blurred. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst.
Then the Shash Chin woke up.
Blue light bloomed beneath his skin, starting from his chest and spreading like rivers of fire. The patterns glowed brighter with each heartbeat, their shapes shifting—coiling, tightening, moving.
Bharav screamed.
Not from pain alone—but from sensation.
He could feel the ground beneath him. The insects hiding in the walls. The faint movement of rats outside the house. Every sound sharpened, every scent layered with meaning.
Venom flooded his blood—yet instead of killing him, it obeyed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The pain receded, leaving behind a dangerous clarity.
Bharav pushed himself up on trembling arms. His reflection in the broken mirror froze him in place.
His eyes were glowing blue.
Not glowing like fire—but like moonlight reflected on deep water.
"What… am I?" he whispered.
The Shash Chin pulsed again, and this time the warmth obeyed his breath. When he inhaled deeply, the glow softened. When his emotions spiked—fear, anger—it flared brighter.
Instinct told him something crucial:
This power was not limitless.
It responded to his control.
Bharav stood slowly, testing himself. His muscles felt lighter, stronger, but not invincible. When he focused too hard, dizziness crept in. When his heartbeat raced, the venom surged dangerously close to burning him alive.
Limits.
Clear ones.
"This isn't a weapon," he realized aloud. "It's a balance."
Outside, something howled.
Not a wolf.
Not a human.
Bharav turned toward the door as the sound echoed again—closer this time. The Shash Chin flared instinctively, responding to a presence it recognized as hostile.
For the first time in his life, Bharav felt fear… and certainty.
Jhansi was no longer quiet.
Whatever was coming, it had sensed the awakening.
Bharav clenched his fists, forcing the glow to dim, to obey. He would not lose himself to this power—not yet.
"Not tonight," he said, voice steady despite his racing heart.
Somewhere beyond the city, ancient things stirred.
And deep beneath the earth, something older than memory smiled.