I sat on the edge of my cot, the blanket twisted under my fingers, my body refusing to move. The room was too dark, too quiet, the kind of quiet that presses against your chest and makes it hard to breathe. Moonlight slipped through the cracked shutters, painting thin, jagged shadows on the floor, and I couldn't stop staring at them. They looked wrong, like they were waiting for something—for me to break, maybe. My heart felt heavy, like someone had tied a stone to it, and no matter how still I sat, the unease wouldn't let me go.
I didn't want to think about it, but my mind wouldn't listen. It kept dragging me back to the courtyard, to the blood soaking the dirt, to Rajni's eyes going dull as that monster pulled his hand from her body. Yasmin, lying there, her face so still it didn't even look like her anymore. And him—that cloaked man, his voice like a blade wrapped in silk, calling me useless, saying Raghav had potential while I was nothing. My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms, but the pain didn't help. It just made the shame burn hotter.
I couldn't sit there anymore. My throat was dry, scratching like I'd swallowed sand. I stood, the cot creaking loud enough to make me flinch, and shuffled to the corner where the clay pitcher sat on a rickety table. The night was cold, colder than it had any right to be, and it seeped through my tunic, chilling my bones. I grabbed the glass, my fingers clumsy, and poured water from the pitcher. The trickle sounded too loud, like it was mocking the silence, and I froze, half-expecting something to answer it.
That's when it hit me again—the images, sharp and cruel, like they'd been waiting for me to slip. I saw Father Mathew running into the courtyard, his face pale as death when he saw Yasmin and Rajni. Sister Stacy dropping to her knees, her hands shaking as she touched Yasmin's cheek, her sob cutting through me like a knife. Sister Hana, her eyes wide, clutching her own arms as if she could hold herself together. Sister Aisha, her jaw tight, her fists ready to fight something that wasn't even there anymore. And then us—Vanshika, Raghav, and me, standing like fools, too broken to move.
I remembered Stacy pulling me close, her arms strong but trembling, whispering something I couldn't hear over the pounding in my head. Hana held Vanshika, who was crying so hard her whole body shook, tears dripping onto the dirt. Aisha had Raghav, her hand on his shoulder, but he just stared at the ground, his face blank, like he'd left himself somewhere else. And me—I didn't cry. I wanted to, but nothing came out. Just this hollow feeling, like someone had carved out my insides and left me empty.
The glass shook in my hand, water sloshing over the edge, cold against my skin. I set it down hard, the clink echoing, and pressed my palms against the table, trying to steady myself. My breath came fast, too fast, and I hated it—hated how weak I felt, how I'd frozen when it mattered most. I'd stood there, useless, while Rajni fought and died. I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, brave enough. That man's words kept circling in my head: Fear. Plain and simple. I wanted to scream, to break something, but what good would it do? They were gone, and I was still here, failing them even now.
A voice cut through the dark, sharp and sudden. "Still awake, huh?
A voice sliced through the dark, sharp and sudden. "Still awake?"
I froze, hands pressed against the table, the glass trembling in my grip. It was Raghav, his silhouette leaning against the doorway, arms crossed tight. His voice wasn't what I expected—not sharp or cocky, but gruff, heavy, like he'd been choking on words too raw to say.
"Couldn't sleep," I muttered, half-turning. "You?"
He stepped closer, his face catching the moonlight—pale, eyes red and fierce. "Knew you'd be up," he said, voice low, cracking at the edges. "Bet you've been praying this is a nightmare, trying to wake up. I have. More times than I can count." He swallowed hard, jaw tight. "But it's real, Vaira. Rajni's gone. Yasmin's gone. And we just… stood there."
His words hit like a blade, twisting in my gut. My fingers clenched the glass, water sloshing onto my hand. "Don't," I snapped, voice weaker than I wanted. "Don't say it like that."
He stepped closer, voice rougher now, like stones grinding together. "I couldn't do a damn thing. Neither could you. It's eating me alive. That's why we're leaving."
I blinked, his words slamming into me. "Leaving? What the hell does that mean?"
He leaned in, eyes burning, wild and desperate. "Listen, I know it's crazy, but that bastard—he said he'd come back for me. If I stay, he won't just hunt me. He'll come for everyone—Vanshika, the kids, all of them. I can't let that happen. We go out there—wilds, mountains, anywhere. We train. We fight. We get strong. Strong enough to kill him."
My heart pounded, anger boiling over. "Are you out of your mind?" I slammed the glass down, water splashing everywhere. "Rajni was the strongest we knew, Raghav! A damn storm—and he toyed with her, like she was nothing! You think we can beat her? Beat him? We're kids! Our best bet's staying here, letting Father Mathew handle it. He'll call the guards or—"
"Mathew?" Raghav's shout echoed, sharp enough to rattle the walls. He lunged forward, fists clenched, face twisted with rage. "That old cunt's useless! While Rajni was dying, fighting for us, he was probably sipping his damn tea, acting wise!" He dragged a hand over his face, fingers digging into his eyes. His voice dropped, trembling. "They've got nothing left to teach us. Rajni was the last, and she's dead. We've got two choices, Vaira: leave and get stronger, or wait here for that monster to finish us."
I shook my head, chest tight, his words cutting deep. "Raghav, this is—"
"I'm leaving," he cut in, voice quieter but heavy, like iron. His eyes locked on mine, raw with grief and need. "And I want you with me. I hate you sometimes, Vaira—you drive me crazy—but you're my brother. I can't do this alone. I won't beat him without you. So please… come with me."
The air thickened, his words sinking into me, heavy and cold. My hands shook, anger and shame twisting inside, plus something else I couldn't name. I couldn't look away from him, but I didn't know what to say.
"You're serious," I said, voice flat, trying to grasp it. "You really think we can just… walk out? Into the wilds? And what—become killers?"
"Not killers," he snapped, stepping closer. "Stronger. Strong enough to stop him. You saw what he did, Vaira. You saw how he looked at me, like I was some prize he'd come back for. I can't stay here, knowing he's out there, waiting."
I scoffed, bitterness spilling out. "And you think running off makes you safe? Makes us safe? What's out there, Raghav? Beasts? Bandits? Or just us, starving in the dirt because we're too stupid to stay where it's warm?"
He flinched, but his jaw set hard. "Better than sitting here, doing nothing. You want to wait for Mathew to save us? He won't. He can't. You know it."
I opened my mouth, then shut it. He wasn't wrong, and that burned worse than anything. "Mathew's not useless," I said, but it sounded hollow. "He'll figure something out. He's got to."
"Figure what out?" Raghav's voice rose, sharp and mocking. "Call the royal guards? You think they'll care about some orphanage in the middle of nowhere? About us? They don't even know we exist!"
"Then we tell them!" I shot back, slamming my hand on the table. "We tell someone—anyone! There's got to be people out there who can fight him, who've got mana stronger than Rajni's!"
He laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "Stronger than Rajni? You saw her, Vaira. She burned like a damn sun, and he didn't even blink. You think there's someone out there who can match that? And even if there is, why would they help us? We're nothing to them."
I glared at him, fists clenched. "So what's your plan, huh? We leave, wander around, and just… what? Hope we stumble on some magic way to get strong? You're not thinking straight."
"I'm thinking clearer than you!" he shouted, voice cracking. "I'm thinking about living, about fighting, about not letting him win! You want to stay here, hide behind Mathew's robes, fine—but I'm not waiting to die!"
"Die?" I yelled back, stepping into his space. "You think leaving keeps you alive? You think we can survive out there? We don't know how to fight, Raghav! Not like Rajni did. We're not her!"
"No, we're not!" he roared, so close I felt his breath. "But we could be! We could learn, Vaira! We could find someone, something—mana, weapons, anything! I'd rather try and fail than sit here, useless, knowing he's coming!"
I shoved him, hard, my hands shaking. "You're not useless! Stop saying that! We're not… we're not nothing, okay? We just need time, a plan—"
"Time?" He shoved me back, eyes blazing. "We don't have time! He could be out there right now, watching, waiting! You heard him—'potential,' he called me. Like I'm his damn game. I'm not staying to find out what that means!"
I staggered, catching myself on the table. His words hit harder than the shove, stirring the fear I'd been choking down. "So you run," I said, voice low, bitter. "You run, and what about everyone else? Vanshika? The kids? You think he'll just forget them because you're gone?"
He froze, eyes flickering with something—guilt, maybe. "I'm not abandoning them," he said, quieter now. "If I leave, he follows me. Not them. It's the only way."
"That's a lie, and you know it," I snapped. "You don't know what he'll do. You're guessing, Raghav, and you're betting their lives on it."
He looked away, jaw working, hands flexing. "I'm betting my life," he said finally. "And yours, if you come. I'm not saying it's safe. I'm saying it's better than waiting."
I shook my head, anger fading into something heavier. "Better? How? You think we'll just… get strong? Like it's that easy? Rajni trained her whole life, and it wasn't enough. What makes you think we're different?"
He met my eyes, steady, almost calm. "Because we have to be," he said. "Because I can't live with myself if I don't try. Can you?"
I didn't answer, couldn't. His question hung there, sharp and heavy, cutting through my defenses. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong, but the truth was, I didn't know. The idea of staying, of waking up every day wondering if that monster was coming, made my stomach twist. But leaving—walking into nothing, with nothing—felt like jumping off a cliff.
"Say something," he pressed, voice rough again. "Tell me I'm crazy, tell me to shut up, just say something."
"You're crazy," I said, but it lacked heat. "You're asking me to throw everything away—our home, our family—for a chance we might not even get."
"I'm asking you to fight," he said, stepping closer. "Not for me, not for you—for them. For Rajni, for Yasmin. So it wasn't for nothing."
I flinched, his words stinging. "Don't use them like that," I said, voice low. "Don't make this about them when you're just scared."
"Scared?" He laughed, sharp and raw. "Damn right I'm scared! I'm terrified, Vaira! But I'm not letting it chain me here. I'm not letting him win because I'm too afraid to move."
"Then why drag me into it?" I shot back, voice rising. "Why not go alone if you're so sure? Why do you need me?"
He stared at me, and for the first time, I saw something break in his eyes—grief, fear, need, all mixed together. "Because you're my brother," he said, voice cracking. "I hate you sometimes—you're stubborn, you argue, you drive me up a damn wall—but I can't do this without you. I won't beat him without you. I need you, Vaira. Please."
His plea hit like a stone, sinking deep, stirring things I didn't want to feel. My hands shook, anger and shame twisting with something else—hope, maybe, or just the need to not feel so damn helpless. "And if we fail?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper. "If we leave, and he still comes? Or we die out there, alone?"
"Then we tried," he said, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "Then we didn't just wait for him to decide our fate. Isn't that worth something?"
I looked at him, really looked, and saw the weight he was carrying—not just fear, but guilt, rage, a fire that wouldn't let him rest. I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but part of me—small, quiet, buried deep—wondered if he was right. If staying was just another way of freezing, like I had in the courtyard.
"What about Vanshika?" I said, grasping for something, anything. "You think she'll just nod and wave us off? She'll fight to come, you know that."
He winced, rubbing his neck. "She can't," he said, voice tight. "She's… she's too soft for this. She'd try, but it'd break her. We have to protect her by leaving."
"Protect her?" I snorted, anger flaring again. "You think leaving her here, wondering if we're dead, is protecting her? She'll hate us, Raghav. She'll think we abandoned her."
"She'll live," he said, eyes hard. "That's what matters. If we stay, and he comes, she won't. None of them will."
I shook my head, words failing me. He sounded so sure, but it felt like a guess, a desperate grab at control. "You don't know that," I said. "You're acting like you've got it all figured out, but you don't. You're scared, same as me."
"Yeah, I am," he admitted, voice raw. "But I'm done letting it stop me. You can stay, Vaira. You can hide here and hope Mathew pulls a miracle. But I'm going. And I'm begging you—don't make me do it alone."
The air hung heavy, his words echoing in the quiet. I stared at him, my hands still shaking, my mind a storm of fear and doubt. He called me brother, and it burned because I wanted to believe him and wanted to be brave enough to follow. But the thought of leaving—of stepping into the unknown with nothing but his fire to guide us—felt like drowning.
"You're asking too much," I said finally, voice hoarse. "You're asking me to bet everything on you."
"I'm betting everything on us," he said, voice soft but firm. "On what we could be. Not kids, not scared boys—fighters. Like Rajni was. Like Yasmin deserved."
I didn't respond, couldn't. His eyes held mine, pleading, demanding, and I felt the weight of it all—grief, fear, the ghost of that cloaked figure's smirk. I didn't know what to do, but I knew one thing: whatever I chose, nothing would be the same.