Chapter 5: Black Roots Beneath the Soil

The trio set off before midday, winding down from the monastery's cliffs into the dense forest trails below. The monks had whispered of a village, Bhadrakaal, once thriving, now silent. No messages had come in weeks. Some claimed bandits. Others spoke of... something worse.

Ravi moved ahead, every step balanced. Kiran walked with blades drawn, cracking jokes to mask his unease. Meera kept close, her fingers brushing the prayer beads at her waist.

The deeper they walked, the more unnatural the silence became. No birds. No insects. Just wind and rustling trees — and even the trees looked wrong.

Their bark was ashen. Their roots pulsed faintly, like veins beneath diseased skin.

When they reached the village, all three stopped.

Bhadrakaal was dead.

Huts stood untouched — doors open, food still on tables, tools left in soil — but not a soul remained. The well had turned black. Chickens and goats lay unmoving, eyes wide in terror. A mural on the temple wall had been defaced — the face of the god Paramkāl scratched out.

Ravi stepped into the center square, his hand instinctively raised, Void energy humming beneath the skin.

Then came the whisper.

"Shunyam Hasta... breaker of cycles…"

Meera gasped. "Did you hear that?"

Ravi nodded. It hadn't been a voice from outside. It had crept into his mind — old, cracked, and laced with hunger.

Suddenly, a child staggered from behind a cart. His skin was pale, eyes dark-ringed, and his voice hollow.

"They come in dreams," he murmured. "They whisper in the soil. The roots feed them…"

Before he could finish, a corrupted monk burst from the shadows. His once-white robes were soaked in blood, limbs stretched unnaturally long, his face twisted into something inhuman.

"Return to the cycle," the monk croaked. "The god sleeps, but not for long."

He struck — faster than a human should move — fingers clawed with corrupted Devaang energy. Kiran lunged to intercept, his shockwave kick sending the creature crashing into a wall.

Ravi stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "You were once one of us."

The monk screamed, voice splintering. "You turned from the old pact! The Ten Limbs are not divine — they are hungry!"

Void surged in Ravi's palm. He struck with Shunyam Hasta, collapsing the air between them. The monk's body twisted in on itself, vanishing into silence.

But the shadows remained.

Ravi looked down. Black veins were spreading beneath the earth — feeding on something old. Something buried.

"Whatever did this," Meera whispered, "it's not just here."

Ravi said nothing. But in the silence, the Void whispered back:

"You are not ready. But you must act."