Chapter 31: Reflection and Retribution
The world narrowed to the vise around his throat and the devouring light. Aarav's vision tunneled, the edges blooming with dark stars. A deep cold seeped into his bones, a profound emptiness that started in his chest and spread outward.
Then, from that cold center, a spark.
It was not heat, but a brilliant, shocking clarity—a silent crack of pure silver light behind his eyes. His drooping eyelids flew open.
His pupils were gone, replaced by twin coins of mercury, blazing with an inner storm.
A soundless wave of force erupted from him. Not a shout, but a pulse of solidified will, visible as a ripple of silver energy in the air. It hit Kiyan's chest.
The impact was a thunderclap without sound. Kiyan was ripped backwards as if yanked by a giant's hand. He flew ten feet through the air, his back connecting with the concrete wall at the edge of the stage with a sickening crunch. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact. He slid down, a heap of limp limbs, into a cloud of dust and debris.
Aarav dropped to his knees, gagging, his throat on fire. The silver fire in his eyes guttered, fading to a faint glint. He scrambled over to where Kiyan lay motionless. Without hesitation, he hooked his hands under Kiyan's arms and dragged him to the stage's precipice. He heaved, sending Kiyan's body tumbling down into the sea of empty plastic chairs below. It landed with a dull, final thud.
For a second, nothing.
Then Kiyan was on his feet. The movement was a blur, ending with him crouched among the overturned chairs. He looked up at Aarav. His face was a mask of feral hunger. He snarled, a sound that held nothing human, and launched himself back onto the stage. His nails elongated into black talons mid-air, dripping a faint, venomous shimmer.
Aarav jumped, not back, but up, twisting his body horizontally. His heel, powered by the last dregs of that strange silver energy, slammed into the small of Kiyan's back as he passed. Kiyan was driven forward, face-first into the same cracked wall. His head snapped back, dazed.
He spun, eyes wide with pained madness, and lunged again, fingers splayed like claws aimed for Aarav's heart. Aarav caught both his wrists. Their powers clashed—a dark, oily pressure from Kiyan against the sharp, electric crackle from Aarav. Sparks of conflicting energy hissed between their locked hands.
Aarav grunted, twisted his hips, and used Kiyan's own momentum to swing him in a full circle before releasing him. Kiyan cartwheeled through the air and crashed into the stage's sound equipment with a crash of splintering wood and dying electronics.
He rose again. This time, his strategy changed. He didn't attack Aarav's body; he went for his throat. The speed was blinding. Cold fingers clamped down. Aarav was hauled off his feet, and then they were moving.
Not dancing. Fleeing.
Kiyan ran, dragging Aarav with him—off the stage, out the shattered college doors, and into the thick woods beyond. Branches tore at their clothes and skin, but Kiyan didn't slow. He was a projectile, and Aarav was his payload.
Suddenly, Aarav was released. He tumbled forward, rolling through damp leaves and over sharp roots, coming to a stop in a small clearing. He pushed himself up, his clothes torn, blood welling from fresh scratches.
Kiyan stood panting across from him, but his eyes showed no fatigue, only that bottomless hunger.
Aarav took a step. Then he vanished.
He reappeared an inch from Kiyan's stomach. His fist, moving faster than sight, drove into Kiyan's solar plexus with a force that expelled all the air from Kiyan's lungs in a silent whoosh. Kiyan's eyes bulged; he doubled over.
Aarav didn't let him fall. He became a silver streak, circling Kiyan. A leg lashed out from the blur, connecting with Kiyan's ribs. The crack was audible. Kiyan was flung sideways, crashing through a thick tree branch before thudding to the forest floor.
Aarav sprinted to him, grabbed the collar of his torn coat, and hauled him upright. He lifted Kiyan overhead, muscles straining, and threw him—not down, but across the clearing, straight into a deep, narrow ravine. The body spun silently in the dark air before disappearing. A second later, a distant, frothy splash echoed up from the blackness.
Aarav stood at the ravine's edge, chest heaving. He stared down. Only darkness, and the faint rush of water far below. No movement. No sound.
A poisonously cold presence bloomed in the air behind him. He turned.
The man in the black coat stood there, his face now hidden behind a smooth, white, featureless mask. The one who had defeated Girgit Raja. He threw a punch. Aarav sidestepped, caught the arm, used the attacker's momentum to spin him, and shoved him hard. The figure stumbled and fell.
It was back up in an instant, faster now. It dove at Aarav like a bird of prey, hands finding his throat, lifting him. From behind the mask, the same golden, sucking energy began to coalesce, reaching for Aarav's face.
Aarav bent his knee and drove his heel into the figure's abdomen. It released him, stumbling back, but recovered instantly. It attacked again, a blur of motion that slammed into Aarav and pushed him backwards, over the edge of the ravine.
Aarav fell. He tried to grab at roots, but the slope was sheer. Cold, black water swallowed him, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.
Above, the masked figure peered over the edge into the impenetrable gloom. Seeing nothing, it began to turn away.
Aarav exploded from the water. He leaped, a parabolic arc against the predawn grey sky, and landed behind the figure. His foot connected with its back, sending it sprawling face-first into the dirt.
It rolled, sprang up, and faced him. It raised its hands. From its eyes, hidden behind the mask, fell not tears, but clouds of toxic, green vapor that coiled through the air towards Aarav.
Aarav's body locked. His muscles seized as if filled with setting concrete. He stood frozen, a statue in the clearing.
The figure advanced. It raised a hand. Its fingernails grew into long, black, needle-pointed talons, glistening with venom. It aimed for Aarav's exposed stomach.
With a roar of pure will, Aarav shattered the paralysis. He jerked sideways, then forward, appearing behind the figure. One arm snaked around its neck in a chokehold. The other hand clawed at the white mask, pulling it sideways.
The figure thrashed. A black cap fell away, releasing a cascade of long, white hair. The mask peeled back, just for an instant—enough to see the edge of a pale cheek, a sharp jawline. Then, in a final, desperate move, the figure drove an elbow backwards into Aarav's gut.
Aarav's breath left him in a rush. His grip loosened. The figure tore free and vanished into the trees, a streak of black and white swallowed by the forest.
Aarav collapsed to his knees, retching, the residual poison burning his nerves. He forced himself up. Staggering, bleeding, he limped out of the woods as the first true light of dawn tinged the sky.
He reached his porch as the clock ticked past six. His legs gave out. He slumped against the door, unconscious.
Minutes later, the front door opened. Aarushi stepped out, a watering can in her hand. She saw the figure on the steps—torn, bloody, caked in mud and leaves. The can fell from her hands, clattering on the stone.
Her scream tore the morning peace apart. "Aarav!"
She ran to him, cradling his head, splashing his face with water from her hands. His eyelids fluttered. He jerked awake, sitting up violently, eyes wide and unseeing for a moment.
Aarushi pulled him into a tight embrace, sobbing. "You're okay? What happened? Where were you?"
Aarav didn't answer. He let her help him inside, drank the water she gave him mechanically.
"You rest," she whispered, voice thick. "I'll make you something. I'll be right back."
When she left, he sat alone in the silent living room. His head throbbed. Images flashed behind his eyes: Girgit Raja's laugh, Kiyan's empty golden gaze, the featureless white mask… and the ravine. Kiyan falling. His own hands letting go.
His breath hitched. His eyes opened, staring at nothing. A whisper escaped his lips, so quiet it was almost inaudible, yet it hung in the room like a curse.
"The ravine… I threw him in. No. It can't be. I killed him."