The Varaksha’s Curse

The air felt wrong.

Kiran sat by the dying embers of his campfire, staring into the night beyond the ruins of Velithra. The battle with the Night Reapers had drained him, but it was more than exhaustion that gnawed at his senses.

Something had changed.

The Varaksha stirred beside him, its ears twitching as it let out a low, uneasy growl. It sensed it too.

Kiran pressed a hand against his chest. His body ached, but it wasn't just from the wounds he had suffered. Something deeper was stirring.

A slow, creeping sensation crawled beneath his skin—as if something unseen had coiled around him, sinking into his very core.

He closed his eyes, steadying his breath. He reached inward, searching for the source.

And then he felt it.

Something foreign was inside him.

A whisper.

A presence.

Not like the power of the Void that he had begun to grasp. No, this was different. This was invasive.

Kiran's eyes snapped open, heart pounding.

"No…"

A War Within

The feeling spread, subtle at first—like a sickness curling through his veins. His breath hitched as his fingers trembled slightly, as if an invisible weight had latched onto him.

He clenched his fists. What is this?

The Varaksha stood suddenly, its silver eyes locked on him, concern flashing in its gaze.

Kiran took a slow step back.

And that's when the whisper came.

"You cannot stop it."

A voice—his own voice—but twisted, layered with something wrong.

The shadows around the ruins seemed deeper than before, stretching unnaturally. The wind carried something eerie, something watching.

Kiran exhaled sharply, forcing his mind to focus.

This was not a physical attack.

This was something inside him.

A battle fought not with a sword, but with his very soul.

The Hollow Mark

Kiran's hand moved to his shoulder, where the Night Reaper's claws had slashed him. He pulled back the fabric of his tunic, exposing the wound.

His breath caught.

The flesh was darkening—not with bruises, but with spreading veins of void-tinged rot.

Not just a wound.

A mark.

His stomach twisted. He had survived the Night Reapers. But he had not walked away unscathed.

"It has already begun," the whisper taunted.

Kiran's mind raced. He had felt something change after that battle. But he had assumed it was the Void awakening within him, responding to his will.

But what if it wasn't just that?

What if something had been left behind?

A seed.

A slow, creeping poison.

Kiran gritted his teeth. He had fought monsters, had faced death, but this?

This was infiltration.

A war being waged inside him.

A Desperate Choice

He could not let this take hold.

But how did one fight something buried beneath their own skin?

The Varaksha let out a low, warning growl.

Something moved in the darkness.

Kiran turned sharply, his senses sharpening despite the unease in his body.

A figure stood at the edge of the ruins—hooded, watching.

A presence Kiran did not recognize.

But one thing was clear.

They had been waiting for this moment.

To Be Continued…