After a long, grueling day in the forest, Yug finally found himself back in the safety of his home. The sun had set, and the village of Vailya had settled into its usual quiet rhythm. The sky, now dark and dotted with stars, felt distant and cold, but inside the small, humble house, there was warmth. Sarla had already prepared a simple meal—rice and lentils, seasoned with a touch of cumin and garlic. The fragrance of the food filled the air, bringing a brief sense of comfort to Yug's tired body.
He ate in silence, the rhythmic sound of his chewing the only noise in the room. The shadows from the flickering oil lamp danced against the walls, but the world outside seemed far away. His mother sat across from him, offering quiet words of comfort and advice, as she always did. But tonight, there was an unspoken weight in the air, something lingering just beyond their small, shared space.
After finishing his meal, Yug wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling a strange heaviness pull at his eyelids. Sleep called to him, urging him to rest, to close his eyes and forget about the darkness that had followed him from the forest. He stretched out on the straw mattress, the familiar scent of dried herbs and wood settling into his senses. The world around him seemed to blur, and soon, he drifted off into a light, uneasy sleep.
But just as he was about to succumb to the peaceful embrace of sleep, a scream shattered the stillness of the night.
It was distant at first, almost indistinguishable from the night sounds of the jungle, but it grew louder—filled with desperation, fear, and a primal terror that clawed its way into Yug's chest. He bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes darted to the window, but there was no light, no sign of what was happening.
"Sarla…" he whispered, his voice hoarse with the weight of the sudden panic.
His mother, still sitting by the small kitchen fire, didn't respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the fire, but her hands were shaking, her lips moving in a quiet prayer. The sound of her whispers, soft and steady, soon grew louder as she hurriedly rose to her feet. The creaking of her wooden chair echoed through the room, and she hurried to the windows, closing them tightly, ensuring the shutters were bolted with an almost frantic urgency.
"Yug, stay inside," Sarla said, her voice trembling. "Do not leave. Whatever happens, do not leave this house."
Yug tried to move, to stand and protect his mother, but his limbs felt heavy, sluggish. His body refused to obey. He couldn't speak, couldn't scream, couldn't run to the door. It was as though an invisible weight had descended upon him, holding him to the bed, his muscles frozen in place.
The sound of more screams echoed from the village, closer now. The air itself seemed to grow thick with fear. Sarla continued to move swiftly, bolting the last window shut and quickly making her way to the small shrine in the corner of their home. There, a small idol of Hanuman Ji stood, bathed in the soft, flickering light of an oil lamp. Sarla bowed her head before the idol, her hands clasped in prayer. Her words came faster now, a frantic plea to the divine for protection, for strength, for salvation.
But just as she finished, the flame of the oil lamp flickered, its light growing weak before it suddenly snuffed out entirely.
Sarla froze.
The world around them fell deathly silent.
Yug's heart raced even faster, a gnawing sense of dread sinking into his gut. He could hear his mother's breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, but it was her eyes—wide with terror—that caught his attention. She stared at the empty space in front of her, as if seeing something he couldn't. The air in the room had turned cold, and a deep, unnatural chill began to settle over them.
It was then that the door, already locked and bolted from the inside, splintered violently. The wood cracked under the weight of an unseen force. The house seemed to shake, and Yug's paralysis deepened, his body refusing to move even as his mind screamed for him to act.
The door was ripped off its hinges, flying into the room like a ragged sheet of paper. And through the shattered opening, something monstrous entered.
A being of nightmare.
The Brahmarakshas stood at the threshold, its form towering over them, blocking out the dim light from the room. Its body was a grotesque fusion of flesh and darkness, its limbs long and sinewy, ending in claws sharp enough to rend stone. The skin of the creature was cracked and scorched, as though it had been burned in the fires of a forgotten hell, yet it oozed an unnatural darkness, like oil spilling from its body.
Its face was the most terrifying part—distorted and elongated, with a gaping maw that stretched too wide to be natural. Its eyes were hollow, sunken pits of pure malice, glowing with a sickly red light. Jagged teeth, like broken shards of bone, lined its mouth, and its long, spindly fingers twitched as if hungry for flesh.
It stepped into the room, its form warping the air around it as it moved, and Yug could feel the presence of pure evil in every breath he took. The creature's gaze swept over Sarla, then turned to Yug, its eyes locking onto his with a cold, predatory hunger.
For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The air thickened, and the shadows around them stretched longer, reaching like claws. Yug could feel the creature's power, its ancient hunger, seeping into the very walls of the house, and he knew, without a doubt, that they were no longer safe.