The battlefield fell silent for a split second as Sarpiksh vanished into thin air, leaving only a swirling mist in his place. The trio—Adir, Garu, and Vani—stood back-to-back, scanning the eerie silence, their breaths tense in the air.

Garu: “Where did he go?”

Before anyone could respond, a strange haze slithered into their minds. Their surroundings warped. Shadows lengthened. Then, horrifyingly, each one of them saw the others morph into Sarpiksh.

Adir, Vani, Garu (in unison): “There you are!”

They attacked without hesitation. Fists flew. Kicks cracked against ribs. Claws slashed. Each blow briefly disrupted the illusion—but only momentarily. The hallucinations twisted and regenerated like some vile dream stuck in a loop. Pain blurred judgment.

Vani: “No! Stop—We’re hurting each other!”

But her voice was drowned in the chaos. Adir’s knuckles split and bled. Garu’s feathers were torn and slick with crimson. Vani's arm twisted unnaturally from a brutal strike. They panted, staggering, yet still trapped in the endless deception.

The real Sarpiksh's trap was doing its work—feeding on their confusion, their mistrust, and turning their unity into destruction.

Vani (panting): “We need a plan… Without one, we can’t defeat him.”

Adir (groaning): “I… I can’t think clearly. It feels like he’s controlling our thoughts too.”

Suddenly, through the fog of pain and illusion, Vani reached into her pouch and pulled out a silken thread etched with tribal runes.

Vani: “Bind your hand with mine. Now!”

Adir hesitated for just a heartbeat, then took her hand. Garu, wings trembling, extended his too. The thread wrapped around all three wrists—warm, almost alive. A soft glow pulsed through it.

Suddenly, clarity returned like cold water on a hot day. Though their appearances still distorted, the thread grounded them. Even as their eyes deceived them, the bond reminded them: they were allies.

The illusions cracked—false Sarpiksh faces flickering and sputtering.

Adir: “Now we fight as one.”

As if on cue, the mist thickened again. Sarpiksh reappeared, laughing in a low, cruel tone—but this time, not alone. Dozens of copies slithered out of the mist like wraiths. A haunting chorus echoed.

Sarpiksh (in chorus): “If you want the real me… come find me.”

The clones charged. The trio braced themselves. Garu took to the air, wings slicing through illusions like blades. Adir and Vani stood their ground, countering each strike with fluid precision. Some clones vanished like smoke when struck. Others retaliated, drawing blood.

Then—pain. A sharp blow to Garu’s ribs knocked him midair, feathers spinning.

Garu: “That one! He’s real!”

They charged. But again, more clones shielded the real Sarpiksh. Confusion thickened.

Vani stumbled backward, breathing heavily. And in that moment—she remembered.

“The illusions of the serpent mind thrive in movement and chaos. Stillness is their enemy. To see through them, one must see with the spirit, not the eyes.”

Her tribe’s wisdom echoed in her ears.

She closed her eyes. Slowed her breath. She listened—not to the noise, but to the rhythm of the world.

A heartbeat.

Stillness.

Then she saw him—not with sight, but with intuition.

Vani: “There—twelve steps ahead. He’s not moving. The illusions shimmer, but he stays still.”

Adir: “You sure?”

Vani (with certainty): “I see him.”

Together, they charged. Garu dove, breaking through three clones with wing-blades. Vani spun into the real Sarpiksh with a strike blessed by her tribe’s spirit energy. Adir followed with a palm glowing with divine fury—slamming into Sarpiksh’s chest.

Sarpiksh: “Arghhhh!”

The illusions shattered. The fog trembled. Sarpiksh staggered, real and bleeding.

But then… the ground cracked.

He roared in rage and desperation, and black tendrils erupted from his back, writhing like serpents. His true form emerged—scaled, monstrous, with fangs and three sets of arms. He screamed in fury, unleashing a pulse of psychic energy that sent the trio flying.

Vani and Garu groaned, crawling back.

Adir lay still.

Blood ran from his brow. His eyes stared upward—unfocused.

Then, something ancient stirred within him.

A memory. A voice.

“You are not just Adir. You are the phanin boy. When the serpent’s blood awakens, your enemy shall drown in venom and light.”

His fingers twitched. The ground around him trembled.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up—glowing green and gold.

Snakes of ethereal energy spiraled from his back, wrapping around his arms. His body pulsed with ancient markings—glowing in sync with his breath.

Adir rose.

His voice echoed with something greater.

Adir: “Sarpiksh. You’ve seen nothing yet.”

Sarpiksh lunged—but Adir moved faster. His arms turned to spectral serpent forms that lashed with impossible speed. Each strike disintegrated a piece of Sarpiksh’s monstrous form.

He called out ancient words—words not from this era.

A massive serpent spirit coiled behind Adir, roaring in silence.

Adir summoned his final attack—channeling all his pain, memories, and divine heritage.

He struck.

A beam of pure serpent energy—emerald and gold—pierced through Sarpiksh’s chest.

The demon let out one last howl as he burned from within, disintegrating into scales and ash.

Silence returned.

Adir collapsed to his knees, the serpent energy fading, the marks still glowing faintly.

Vani and Garu limped to him.

Garu: “Adir… that power—was that really you?”

Adir (smiling faintly): “I think… I just met the real me.”

Vani (placing a hand on his shoulder): “The Serpent God has awakened in you. And we’ve just begun.”

The trio stood—battered, but alive. The battlefield, once cursed by illusion and fear, now echoed only with the sound of wind—and victory.

But far off… deeper forces were already watching.

And they were not pleased.

The battlefield lay in ruins.

What was once a dense forest clearing was now scorched, torn, and covered in ash. The trees that once stood tall had been flattened or splintered by divine fury. Craters marked the ground where Sarpiksh’s illusions had twisted reality into madness. The mist had finally lifted.

Above them, the sky was painted with the colors of dusk—orange bleeding into violet, a quiet gold hugging the horizon. Peace, at last.

Adir sat with his back against a broken slab of stone, chest rising and falling slowly. The markings that had erupted on his arms moments ago still glimmered faintly, like embers not yet ready to fade.

Nearby, Garu crouched, wincing as he tightened a torn strip of cloth around his ribs. His wings drooped slightly, feathers bloodied, but there was a strange calm in his expression.

Garu offered a crooked grin. “Well… that was one way to break a curse.”

Adir gave a tired chuckle, rubbing his temple. “It wasn’t just a curse. He got inside our heads. He made us see each other as enemies. He nearly made us kill each other.”

Vani stood a short distance away, her silhouette outlined by the fading sun. One arm was in a makeshift sling, but she remained alert, her gaze scanning the ruined field. The thread that had bound the three of them still dangled from her wrist—frayed, but softly glowing.

She turned toward Adir.

“Your power,” she said quietly. “What was that?”

Adir looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly. His voice was low.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It felt ancient. Like something sleeping inside me finally opened its eyes. My dreams… my instincts… all those moments I couldn’t explain—it all makes sense now.”

He looked at her, then at Garu.

“I think I really am who they said I was. The Phanin boy.”

Garu raised a brow, chuckling softly. “Well, that explains the eyes. And the glowing scales. Little late to hide it now.”

Adir’s smile faded a little. His voice turned cautious.

“Garu… I need to ask you something.”

Garu met his gaze.

“How did you survive?” Adir asked. “Last time I saw you, I thought I… I thought you were gone. And now—there’s this change in you. What happened?”

Garu sighed. He lowered his gaze to the dirt, gathering his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was heavier than usual.

“Murunda,” he said. “He made me. Me and the others. We’re not just hybrids by chance—he created us. We were part of some twisted experiment.”

Adir’s eyes widened. “Murunda? But I—I revealed myself to him. I trusted him.”

Garu nodded solemnly. “He used your blood. That’s how he did it. Your divine serpent blood—he harvested it. With it, he made us stronger, faster. But also… obedient.”

Adir stared at him in stunned silence.

“He manipulated us,” Garu continued, voice bitter. “He trained us to hate. Told us lies. Made us believe humans were weak, unworthy. That destruction was our destiny.”

“And the others?” Vani asked.

Garu’s wings twitched. “They’re not like me anymore. Whatever spark of conscience I had… it’s gone from them. They’re pure hatred now. Loyal only to Murunda. Obsessed with pain, violence.”

Adir’s fists clenched.

“But why?” he asked. “Why would Murunda do this?”

Garu exhaled slowly. “I think… he wants revenge. On the people who wronged him. Maybe on the world itself. I don’t know his full plan, but whatever it is—it’s not just about power.”

Adir’s voice dropped. “Why did you leave him?”

Garu’s eyes turned somber. “I overheard him one night. He… he killed my parents. Used me in his experiments when I was just a kid. They tried to stop him. He didn’t let them.”

There was a pause. The wind rustled the blackened trees.

“I was going to fall,” Garu said quietly. “Into darkness. But someone saved me. A great man. A kind one. He showed me another way.”

He looked up at them both.

“I want to save people now. To fight for something better. And maybe… to make up for the pain I helped cause.”

There was silence between the three for a moment. Then Adir nodded slowly.

“Then let’s stop him,” he said. “Let’s find Murunda. And punish him—for your parents, for what he’s done to you, and for all the lives he’s destroyed.”

Garu smiled faintly, and Vani stepped beside them both.

She looked toward the distance.

“This wasn’t the end,” she said softly. “Sarpiksh was just a gatekeeper. There’s something deeper. Older. I can feel it.”

The serpent marks on Adir’s arms shimmered in agreement.

He rose to his feet. “Then we’ll be ready. Whatever darkness waits—we’ll face it together.”

Garu flexed his sore wing, wincing. “After I sleep for a week.”

They all laughed—a worn, exhausted laugh. But it was real.

Together, they began walking away from the battlefield, the last light of day guiding their steps through the broken forest.

But behind them, deep beneath the ground where Sarpiksh’s ashes had scattered, something twitched.

A single black scale pulsed faintly… like a heartbeat.

And in a dark cavern far away, where shadows breathed and light dared not enter—unseen eyes opened.

Watching.

Waiting.

The war had only just begun.