Rao stumbled through the cursed forest, the weight of his failure pressing heavily on his chest. The trees seemed to close in around him, their branches gnarled and twisted, clawing at the sky like the fingers of the damned. The path ahead, overgrown with thorny vines and slick with rot, led to a place he feared more than any battlefield: the lair of the Dark Sage, Aghorath.

Each step felt like a descent into madness. The very air around him reeked of decay, thick with an oppressive energy that gnawed at his sanity. Shadows writhed along the forest floor, not cast by the dim moonlight but born of something much darker—ancient, hungry forces long forgotten by the world. Finally, he reached the entrance of the lair, a colossal archway made of blackened stone, etched with symbols so vile they seemed to move, pulsing with malevolent life.

Inside, the atmosphere was even more suffocating. Green flames flickered on the walls, casting sickly light over the grotesque space. The walls themselves appeared to breathe, as if alive with some dark, unholy energy. In the middle of the chamber sat Aghorath, slouched on his throne, a twisted mass of bones and decaying flesh, draped in tattered robes that once might have commanded fear and awe but now seemed more like funeral wrappings.

Rao knelt before him, still cradling his burned hand. His breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to speak. "Master... there was a complication. The woman, Nandita... she—she burned me."

Aghorath's eyes, sunken into the depths of his skull, gleamed faintly, betraying his sudden interest. For a moment, the shadows in the room seemed to still, as if even they were listening.

"Burned?" Aghorath's voice was a rasp, like brittle leaves crushed underfoot. He did not rise but tilted his head, his lips curling into a contemptuous smirk. "You? Burned by a mortal?"

Rao nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, my lord. I tried to stop her, but the moment I touched her, it was as if I had touched fire. Something... unnatural. It shouldn't be possible."

Aghorath's smirk faded, and he slowly straightened in his seat. The torches flickered wildly as the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Unnatural, you say?" he murmured, his tone now icy, laced with the faintest hint of disbelief. He leaned forward, his bony hands gripping the armrests of his throne. "Tell me... what did you feel?"

"It was... agony," Rao whispered, holding up his hand. The flesh was blistered, blackened as if seared by some divine flame. "Her touch—it was like something divine. It wasn't just pain... it was as if something within me was being torn apart."

Aghorath was silent for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as he processed Rae's words. The flicker of disbelief in his gaze grew darker, more intense, until it was almost rage. Slowly, he rose from his throne, his frail, decayed body creaking with every movement. He began to pace, his long, claw-like fingers twitching as if reaching for something unseen.

"Impossible," he whispered, more to himself than to Rae. "She is nothing but a woman... a mortal. She cannot—"

Then, abruptly, he stopped, his gaze snapping back to Rae. Aghorath's voice turned low, almost a hiss. "Describe her. Tell me everything."

Rao blinked, confused but obedient. "She's... normal. There was nothing special about her, not before. But when I tried to stop her, it felt as if I was being consumed. As if her very presence repelled me."

Aghorath's face twisted in realization, his lips pulling back in a sneer of disbelief. His body trembled slightly, the sickly green flames casting wild shadows across his features. He looked up, speaking to something—or someone—far beyond the confines of the cave. "So... this is your Lakshmi?" His words dripped with venom, and then he chuckled, the sound cold and hollow, as if mocking the heavens themselves.

Rao flinched at the name. "Lakshmi?" He looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"

Aghorath let out a slow, deliberate sigh, shaking his head as if amused by the sheer irony of it all. "You poor, ignorant fool," he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You tried to lay hands on the goddess herself."

Rao froze, the weight of the revelation sinking in. His mind raced, trying to grasp the full scope of Aghorath's words. "Goddess? No... she's just a woman. She can't—"

Aghorath's voice boomed, louder now, cutting Rao off. "You touched Lakshmi, the consort of Vishnu, the embodiment of prosperity and divine power. And you thought you could overpower her?"

He began pacing again, his anger boiling to the surface. His once calm and condescending demeanor was now laced with incredulity. "Not just Lakshmi. She is Sita, the queen of Ayodhya, who walked through fire unscathed. She is Alamelu, the goddess who blesses all with fortune. She is Bhudevi, the Earth itself. Padmavati, the lotus goddess who brings fertility and growth."

Aghorath turned sharply, his face contorted in disbelief. "And you, a mere mortal, dared to challenge her?"

Rao stammered, "But she didn't know—she can't possibly be—"

"She doesn't have to know, you fool!" Aghorath snapped, his eyes blazing. "The divine does not lose its power simply because it is unaware. You—" He pointed a skeletal finger at Rao, his voice dripping with disdain, "are but a small, insignificant speck of evil in the grand cosmic play. Someone like you could never lay a hand on her. Not in a thousand lifetimes."

Rao's mind spun, trying to reconcile the woman he had faced with the deities Aghorath was naming. "But... how? Why?"

Aghorath stopped pacing and let out a long, weary sigh. Slowly, as if the effort pained him, he reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing his true form.

The sight was grotesque. His once-powerful body was now a withered husk. His skin was stretched thin over bones, the color of old parchment, marred with dark veins that pulsed with a sickly glow. His eyes, once sharp and menacing, were now sunken hollows, filled with an ancient, cruel light. His face, gaunt and skeletal, bore the scars of countless lifetimes of malice, but it was his twisted grin—filled with far too many jagged, blackened teeth—that sent a wave of nausea through Rae.

"Do you see what I have become?" Aghorath rasped, his voice shaking with both anger and despair. "Once, I was feared across the worlds. My power rivaled the gods themselves.

"I stood at the threshold of the universe," Aghorath continued, his voice now softer, almost wistful. "But I was cast down, betrayed by my own hunger for power. And now... I am this." He gestured to his decaying form, his eyes burning with hatred. "A shell. A ghost of what I once was. But with the amulet... with its power, I will rise again. I will tear apart the heavens themselves."

Rao could only stare in horror, the full weight of what stood before him sinking in. Aghorath's eyes, burning with renewed fury, locked onto Rae's.

"Do you see now, Rao? I need that amulet. And you will bring it to me. Fail again, and it will not be just your hand that burns. It will be your soul."