Chapter 1 : Blood and Betrayal

Chapter 1: Blood and Betrayal

The ancient temple of Hampi stood silent under the moonlight, its stone pillars whispering forgotten stories of gods and men. Inside its deepest chamber, a lone Protector stood before an enormous, sealed door—his breath unsteady, his hands trembling as he clutched a wooden box containing two scrolls and a small, ancient key. The box was unlike any other. Its surface was carved with inscriptions in a language lost to time, its wood darkened with age. The locks were designed with an intricate mechanism that only the worthy could unlock.His duty was clear, but his heart wavered.

A voice echoed inside his mind.

"Don't. You will regret it..."

He clenched his jaw. "No. If I don't, I would lose you…"

His fingers tightened around a ceremonial blade, its edge sharp enough to split fate itself. He pressed it against his wrist, drawing a single line of blood. As the crimson drops fell into a bowl carved into the feet of the deity's statue, the temple trembled. The heavy door before him groaned, gears shifting, unlocking the hidden path.

Then, the voice spoke again.

"Goodbye... I don't want this to fall into the hands of the wrong people... Please protect it."

Silence. He felt it—the absence, the void. She was gone. His mind screamed, but his body remained still. He could still see her in his memories—her unwavering belief that the truth had to be protected, the way she had always stood between him and danger. She had died for this secret. And now, he had to ensure her sacrifice wasn't in vain.

Footsteps echoed from behind. They were coming.

With a deep breath, he grabbed the box and made a desperate choice. Turning to the third ceremonial bowl, he let more blood spill into its depths, activating a different mechanism. Another passageway yawned open—a false path meant to deceive those who followed him. Without looking back, he ran into the night, his only purpose now to fulfill her last wish.

The intruders entered minutes later, their torches casting flickering shadows upon the temple walls. The air was thick with something unseen, something ancient. As they stepped forward, the chamber remained eerily still, a deception of safety. The room appeared ordinary—a stone floor, walls lined with fading inscriptions, and a path leading deeper inside. But the temple was watching.

The moment the last intruder crossed the threshold, the trap activated.

The entrance sealed shut, swallowing all light. The air turned heavy, suffocating, draining sound from the space like a vacuum. A flickering torchlight revealed a chilling truth—the carvings on the walls were shifting, moving as if alive, watching the trespassers with unseen eyes. The walls exhaled a strange mist, twisting into phantom-like shapes that mirrored their worst fears.

Panic set in. Their voices choked in their throats as the temple's presence pressed into their minds.

Then the ground gave way.

A silent fall into darkness. Jagged stone and ancient spikes awaited them below, but they never reached the ground. The temple drained them first, feeding off their fear, stripping away their life force until their bodies collapsed into dust. Their screams never left the chamber.

They were gone.

In the darkness, a hidden figure observed, his face barely illuminated by the dying flames. His lips curled in disappointment as he turned his gaze toward Arjun, who stood frozen, fists clenched, his breath uneven. The firelight flickered against his face, illuminating the war within his eyes.

Then, more footsteps echoed from the entrance. This time, they were heavy, purposeful, filled with fury.

"Arjun," the shadowed figure spoke again, his voice calm, deliberate.

Arjun turned sharply, his chest heaving. His thoughts clashed—rage, grief, doubt. He had spent years believing in one truth, but now, with the weight of his sister's fate pressing against his heart, uncertainty crept in like an unwelcome guest. "He ran. He abandoned her," Arjun muttered, as if saying it aloud would solidify his anger. The shadowed figure remained still, his presence blending into the darkness. His voice, calm yet laced with intent, emerged from the void. "I just came and saw him fighting… refusing to give up the scroll. Tell me, Arjun, is that more important than a life? Your sister loved him dearly, bore his child, and yet… what did she get in return? A lonely death? Is it worth it?"

For a moment, Arjun hesitated. His instincts screamed at him to chase the Protector, to demand answers, to make him answer for what had happened. But a seed of doubt had been planted. He turned toward the darkness, searching for the shadowed figure, but he was already gone. Had he truly come only to tell him this? Or was there something more?

I must find him. I must find the Protector.

And I must ask him—why?

In the dark recesses of the temple, the silence deepened. The weight of history pressed against the stone, as if holding its breath. Outside, footsteps pounded against the earth, rapid and desperate—fleeing. The shadowed figure had vanished into the woods, his presence was now just a fading memory within the temple's walls.But who was he? And why had he run? The temple had claimed its sacrifice, but had the true battle just begun?