Chapter 19: The Black Sun’s Hunger

B.S. 2082 Baisakh 12 – Nuwakot Village, The Haunting of Boksi Gufa

The black sun hung low over Nuwakot, staining the terraced fields the color of dried blood. The villagers called it Rato Surya—the Crimson Omen—and spoke in whispers of Boksi Gufa, the Witch's Cave, where the dead now walked.

"They say the boksi are angry," murmured Kishan, the village jhankri, his face painted with ash to ward off spirits. "When the red sun rose, the cave began to bleed."

Jay's void shard pulsed in time with the village's terror. The fungal rot in his ribs had quieted, but the shard's whispers had grown louder—Bhairava comes.

Anika knelt beside a chhaupadi hut, its walls daubed with menstrual blood and turmeric. The lone wraith in her palm flickered weakly. "The women here… their rituals are alive. I can use their pain to regrow the swarm.*"

Meera eyed the Dashnami defector beside her—Laxmi Puri, Vedant's estranged daughter. "Your father died a traitor. Why help us?"

Laxmi's khukri glinted. "The Council killed my mother. Now they'll reap what they sowed."

Boksi Gufa exhaled a stench of rotting gundruk and burnt hair. At its entrance, villagers had stacked goat skulls and sal leaves, offerings to the boksi who once ruled these hills. But the cave's true horror lay deeper.

"They're not witches," Laxmi said, lighting a battis ko diyo with trembling hands. "They're daakini—women the Dashnami executed for practicing forbidden Vidya. Their souls fester here."

The walls wept black fluid. Shadows detached, forming figures with inverted joints and eyes like cracked glass.

"Heir of Giri…" the daakini hissed. "You carry the Council's sins. Join us."

Jay's void shard flared. Visions erupted:

A Dashnami purge, women drowned in the Trisuli for channeling boksi magic.

Laxmi's mother, her tongue ripped out for teaching forbidden mantras.

Himself, in another life, leading the executions.

"Lies," he snarled.

The daakini laughed. **"The shard shows truth. Bhairava comes to judge you."

Anika stood at the village gufa, surrounded by menstruating women chanting the Swasthani Katha. Their blood pooled in a bronze kalash, its surface reflecting the black sun.

"The boksi power is in their cycles," she told Jay. "I can bind it to the wraiths. But I need…"

"A sacrifice," Laxmi finished. "The jhankri's goat won't suffice. It must be human."

The villagers recoiled. Kishan raised a trembling hand. "I—"

"No." Jay stepped forward. "Use me."

The void shard hissed, Yes.

Anika's wraiths lashed Jay's wrists to the kalash. The women's chants rose, their blood snaking up his arms. The shard screamed.

The ritual tore the sky.

Bhairava's form materialized—a skeletal giant clad in ashes and severed heads, his hound Shvan snarling at his side. The village trembled.

"WHO DARES SUMMON ME?"

The daakini swarmed, their claws raking his shadow. "Judge him, Destroyer! He carries your rival's rot!"

Bhairava's gaze fell on Jay. "Shiva's heir… corrupted by a boksi's toy."

The void shard writhed. Jay's veins turned black. "I didn't summon you."

"No. But you fed me." Bhairava's laugh cracked the earth. "Every soul this village sacrificed… every daakini scream… they are my feast."

Meera's khukri clattered. "The cave… it's a larder. The Dashnami used it to feed him."

Kishan stumbled forward, clutching a tantric dagger. "The boksi… they were my ancestors. Let me end this."

He plunged the dagger into his chest. Blood sprayed the kalash, merging with the women's offerings. The daakini shrieked as Bhairava's form destabilized.

"NO!"

Anika's wraiths surged, reforged by Kishan's sacrifice. They tore into Bhairava's shadow, devouring his essence.

"Now!" Laxmi threw Jay the Trishula.

He drove it into the void shard.

The black sun imploded.

Bhairava's roar faded, his judgment unfulfilled. The daakini dissolved, their curses lifting.

Anika's wraiths swarmed, alive with boksi power. "Kishan's soul… it's in them."

Jay collapsed, the shard's hole in his chest weeping void. Meera crouched beside him. "You're dying."

Laxmi pressed a hand to the wound. "Not yet. The daakini left a gift."

In his mind, the boksi whispered: "The void is yours now. Wield it… or let it consume you."

At dusk, the villagers burned Kishan's body, his ashes scattered to ward off pret spirits. The Dashnami skyships circled but did not strike—Bhairava's retreat had bought respite.

Anika studied her wraiths, now tinged with menstrual crimson. "They're stronger. Hungrier."

Laxmi sharpened her khukri. "The Council will send Bhairava's priests next. We need allies."

Jay touched his chest. The void had scabbed over, but beneath the flesh, it moved.

Somewhere, the child-acolyte whispered: "You fed a god. Now he'll crave more."