Chapter 4 – The Oath Under Moonlight

  Adhira stood atop the ruined temple, his gaze following the distant horizon where the enemy forces had disappeared. The Snake Clan had finally left, vanishing beyond the hills with their ominous banners. The village lay eerily silent—only the faint crackling of the temple’s broken remains filled the void.

  Then, a thought struck him.

  "They were searching for something… a relic."

  He clenched his fists, the memory of the Snake Clan warriors whispering about the relic burning in his mind. He had to find it. If those monsters were willing to destroy an entire village for it, then it held immense power.

  Adhira wasted no time. He began searching the temple ruins, running his hands over the cracked stone floors, overturning broken pillars, and scouring every corner for any hidden compartment. Dust and debris clung to his skin, but no matter where he looked, he found nothing.

  Frustration welled up inside him. "Where is it?!" he muttered under his breath.

  Then, his eyes landed on something unusual—Lord Garuda’s massive statue, towering over the temple ruins.

  His gaze traveled upwards, and he noticed something peculiar.

  At the center of Garuda’s forehead, embedded in the stone, was a radiant crystal. Directly in front of it, a thin beam of sunlight streamed through a hole in the temple’s ceiling, reflecting off an ancient mirror.

  Adhira narrowed his eyes. The positioning wasn’t random.

  He carefully climbed the statue’s base, reaching for the mirror. Dusting it off, he adjusted its angle slightly. The moment the sunlight hit the crystal on Garuda’s forehead, the temple trembled.

  With a deep, grinding noise, the floor beneath the statue shifted. Three ornate boxes slowly emerged from the ground, each adorned with the same mysterious symbol that was etched on Adhira’s back.

  His breath hitched.

  "These… These are the relics."

  His fingers trembled as he opened the first box. Inside lay a magnificent sword, its blade shimmering faintly with an otherworldly aura. The second box contained a finely crafted bow, its string taut and seemingly humming with energy. And in the third, a thick, ancient book rested, its pages filled with unreadable script.

  Adhira exhaled sharply.

  "The relics they sought… the relics my village died for."

  His grip on the sword tightened. A fresh wave of rage surged through him. He wouldn’t let their sacrifice be in vain. He took the sword and the book, keeping them close. Then, he turned to Savi.

  She still stood in silence, her hollow eyes locked on the relics. She hadn’t spoken a word since the massacre. Not a single cry, not a whisper. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to speak—it was as if she couldn’t.

  Adhira held the bow out to her. "Take it," he said firmly.

  She shook her head, her hands trembling as she backed away.

  "Savi…" His voice hardened. "I can’t always protect you!"

  She flinched.

  Adhira’s jaw clenched. "We’re the only ones left! If we want to survive, we have to fight. We have to be ready to kill if we have to!" His rage seeped into his words. "Do you understand?!"

  Savi hesitated, then slowly reached for the bow. Her fingers curled around it.

  Adhira exhaled. "Good."

  As he turned toward the temple entrance, he said, "Stay here. Lock the doors from the inside. I have something to do."

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  But Savi took a step forward. She wanted to go with him.

  "Savi, I—"

  His words died in his throat. His eyes widened.

  Savi’s irises… had turned completely green.

  Adhira took a shaky breath. "Savi… can you see far?"

  She nodded.

  A realization dawned upon him.

  "The symbol… it's giving us powers."

  His gaze flickered to the three boxes. These relics… they weren’t meant for just anyone. They were meant for us.

  Without wasting another second, the two of them set off toward the village once more.

  ---

  Hours later, they arrived.

  Under the harsh daylight, the sight was far worse than before. The bloodied bodies, the smoldering ruins—everything was clearer now. The very bones of their home reeked of death.

  Savi clutched her stomach. The horror, the stench—it was unbearable. She staggered to the side and vomited.

  Adhira swallowed his grief. "Go to the river," he said quietly. "Wash up. Don’t look back."

  Savi wiped her mouth, tears slipping down her cheeks as she stumbled away.

  But Adhira… he didn’t turn away.

  He let the rage settle deep inside him.

  He made his way to the village blacksmith’s house, which had been reduced to ashes. In the wreckage, something caught his eye—a lone axe, still intact despite the destruction.

  He picked it

  Adhira gripped the axe tightly, his knuckles turning white. The weight of it felt familiar yet foreign in his hands. He walked towards the nearest tree at the village’s edge and swung it with all his strength. The sharp blade bit deep into the wood with a loud thunk.

  He didn't stop.

  Again.

  And again.

  Each swing carried his grief. Each strike held his rage. The tree groaned before finally collapsing, its heavy branches shaking the earth. But Adhira didn’t rest—he moved to the next tree and then another, cutting down logs one by one.

  Time blurred. His muscles screamed in protest, sweat dripped down his face, but he didn’t stop.

  Savi, who had returned from the river, watched in silence.

  For a while, she just stood there. Then, hesitantly, she stepped forward and started helping—gathering the cut logs, stacking them in neat piles. It was the first time she had moved on her own since the massacre.

  By sunset, they had collected enough wood.

  Together, they arranged the logs into a massive pyre.

  One by one, they carried the bodies of their fallen people, placing them atop the wood. Some bodies were unrecognizable, their faces lost to the flames and blades of war. Others still had traces of fear in their lifeless eyes, frozen in their last moments.

  Savi’s hands trembled as she placed the final body.

  Adhira stood in front of the pyre, staring at the pile of death before him.

  Taking a deep breath, he knelt and pressed his palm to the ground. "Agni Deva," he whispered, invoking the fire god. His voice wavered, but his resolve didn’t. "Take them into your warmth. Let them find peace where we could not give it."

  With those words, he set the pyre ablaze.

  The fire roared to life, its golden glow stretching toward the sky. It crackled and consumed everything—the wood, the bodies, the last remnants of their home. The flames danced wildly, as if devouring the sorrow itself.

  Savi and Adhira stood side by side, watching the inferno in silence.

  Then, Adhira turned his gaze upwards.

  A full moon loomed above them, casting its cold silver light over the burning village.

  His jaw tightened. His fists clenched.

  Under that moonlight, he swore his oath.

  "I, Adhira Garuda, son of Yama Garuda, stand beneath this moon and before this fire as my witness."

  "To those who destroyed my home, to those who slaughtered my people…"

  "I promise you a death ten times more painful."

  "You will beg for mercy, but none shall come."

  His breath was heavy, his heart a storm of fury and grief. The flames reflected in his eyes, making them burn with an unholy rage.

  Savi, watching him, felt a lump in her throat.

  And then, without a word, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

  She didn’t speak.

  She didn’t need to.

  For a long time, they stood there, bathed in moonlight and fire.