Ch 3: The Dance Of Mist

The Cold Night

The countryside stretched endlessly, wrapped in the embrace of darkness. Fields of tall, swaying crops lined the narrow dirt path, their tips whispering against the howling winter wind. The moon hid behind thick clouds, casting an eerie glow over the mist-covered landscape.

The mist.

It was unnatural—thick, heavy, suffocating. It rolled in waves, as if alive, shifting and swirling like phantom hands reaching for something unseen.

Kali walked carefully, his breath coming out in short, misty puffs. His clothes clung to his skin, damp from the night's moisture. His feet crunched against the frozen dirt, each step echoing in the unsettling silence.

His village was far ahead. The path stretched between two endless fields, a lone mountain towering in the distance, its peak lost in the black sky. A place that should have been familiar—but now felt alien.

Then—

A whisper.

"Kali..."

His breath hitched.

His blood ran cold.

He turned sharply—but saw nothing.

The mist twisted unnaturally, shifting like something hiding within it. The wind had died. The only thing he could hear was the rapid beating of his own heart.

Then—

A second whisper.

"You're alone."

The voice slithered into his ears, so close, yet so distant. His fingers curled into fists. His instincts screamed—

He was being watched.

Suddenly—

Whoosh!

Something moved in the mist. A blur, a shadow, something inhumanly fast.

Then—

"KALI, MOVE!"

Maa Durga's voice boomed in his mind.

Without thinking—

He bent down.

A sharp blade-like claw sliced through the air just inches above his head.

The wind screamed as it passed him.

If he had been a second late—

His head would have been gone.

"Listen carefully, Putra." Maa Durga's voice was firm, unwavering. "Follow my instructions. If I say bend, you bend. If I say move, you move. Do not question—just trust me."

Kali swallowed hard. "I understand."

The mist thickened.

And then—it attacked.

"Right!"

Kali threw himself right. A sharp gust cut through the space he had just occupied.

"Left!"

He rolled left, barely dodging another invisible strike.

"Jump!"

Kali leaped, just in time to avoid a claw swiping at his legs.

The attacks were relentless. A nightmare without form, without a face.

He couldn't see his enemy.

But the enemy could see him.

Then—

The mist shifted.

A slow clap echoed through the fields.

The fog peeled away, revealing a silhouette standing on the dirt path.

Tall. 6 feet. Maybe more.

His body was lean, almost unnatural in its stillness.

His eyes—half-lidded, lazy, yet piercing. His nose sharp, unnervingly perfect.

His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.

And then, he laughed.

Soft. Drunken. Cruel.

"Hehehe… Finally, you can see me."

His voice was like a blade wrapped in silk.

Kali clenched his fists. The air around him felt heavier, suffocating. This was no ordinary enemy.

This was something far worse.

"Who are you?" Kali asked, his voice firm despite the fear creeping into his chest.

The man tilted his head, amused.

Then—a slow, theatrical bow.

"NISHACHARA."

His name hung in the air like a curse.

Straightening, he examined Kali like one would a wounded animal. His half-lidded eyes flickered to the blood on Kali's wrist.

"Mmm… Kali, is it? Ah, what a fun little creature you are… A shame, really."

Kali narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Nishachara sighed deeply, lazily, his tongue slipping slightly from his lips.

"It means…" His voice dragged unnaturally.

Then—his smile widened into something grotesque.

"You're already mine."

The Hunt Begins

The mist surged forward.

Kali dodged left. Then right. Then rolled back.

"Faster, Putra!" Maa Durga commanded.

But it wasn't enough.

The fog twisted reality.

Every time Kali tried to land a hit—his fists met nothing but air.

Nishachara moved through the mist like a phantom, untouchable.

Then—

Pain.

A deep slice across his shoulder.

Kali gasped—blood poured down his arm.

And before he could react—

BAM!

A fist slammed into his stomach.

His body flew backward, crashing into the dirt.

Nishachara was already there.

A second punch—then a third.

A storm of blows.

Each one faster, harder.

Then—

A brutal kick.

Kali's body launched into the sky.

Nishachara was waiting above him.

His manic grin stretched too wide, tongue hanging out slightly.

"Tsk tsk tsk… Breaking too fast, Kali!"

Then—

A final punch.

Right to his chest.

The impact shook the earth.

CRASH!

Kali's body slammed into the side of the mountain.

Pain.

Everywhere.

He couldn't move.

His vision blurred.

His breath came in weak gasps.

Blood pooled beneath him, warm and thick.

His arms refused to lift.

His eyes struggled to stay open.

The last thing he saw—

Was Nishachara's silhouette standing in the mist.

A slow, drunken laugh filled the air.

"Goodnight, Kali…"