The air hung thick with dread, as if every breath dragged despair into their lungs. Shadows seemed to curl and twist on their own, flickering in the dark like restless phantoms.

Ayushman’s gaze, cold and predatory, scanned the faces of the Kuruvanshis with a chilling amusement before settling on Pauravi. His lips curled into a wicked grin.

“Come to me, darling,” he said softly, his voice dripping with malice.

As if summoned by his will alone, an invisible force gripped Pauravi. She was yanked across the blood-soaked ground, her screams muffled by the magic that had sealed her voice.

Her body dragged mercilessly over jagged stones and twisted roots until she was thrown onto the charred mark in the center of the garden—a massive, unnatural symbol etched into the earth, pulsating with a sinister energy.

Blood dripped down its grooves, each droplet absorbed by the ravenous soil like a thirsting beast.

The men—Ayushman, Drupad, Druveda, and Rana Vardhan Singhal—stood in a perfect circle around the mark, their eyes cold and emotionless.

Dark incantations fell from their lips like venom.

"Kaal ka raaz jo hum pehnein, vish ke sanharak ho hum baney, bhay aur andhkaar se hum milte, pralay ka aahvaan karte hain!"

Their voices blended into an eerie chorus, a chant that twisted reality itself.

With a flick of their wrists, robes of deep crimson and midnight black shimmered into existence, wrapping around their bodies as if woven from the shadows themselves.

"Kaal ka raaz jo hum pehnein, vish ke sanharak ho hum baney, bhay aur andhkaar se hum milte, pralay ka aahvaan karte hain!"

The symbol beneath them pulsed in response, growing darker, more malevolent, the very ground beneath their feet vibrating with an otherworldly power.

Draupad raised his hand, fingers curling with malicious intent.

Draupadi’s body jerked violently, dragged through the dirt like a broken doll until she too was thrown into the center of the sinister mark, beside Pauravi.

Both women lay there, whimpering, their bodies trembling from fear and pain, their tears soaking the cursed earth.

Pauravi fought against the invisible chains binding her, spitting out silent threats, her face twisted in rage and desperation. But her defiance was futile.

The men stood unmoved, their hands now outstretched toward the sky, dark tendrils of magic spiraling from their fingertips.

The force they unleashed was terrifying—dense and suffocating, a black fog that swallowed the garden, making the air so thick that it felt like they were drowning in darkness.

Above them, the sky was an abyss, utterly devoid of the moon or stars.

But there, in that endless blackness, the planets began to move, aligning one by one until they formed a perfect, deadly pattern. The moment the last planet clicked into place, the world itself seemed to hold its breath.

The magic intensified, swirling violently around the four men. It surged from them, spiraling toward the heavens and forming a dome of darkness so absolute that even the shadows shuddered.

The Kuruvanshis, helpless in their bindings, screamed silently, their mouths moving in wordless terror.

Duryodhan strained against his bonds, fury and desperation igniting every muscle, but the magic punished him mercilessly—tearing open fresh wounds that bled freely.

In the center of the circle, Draupadi and Pauravi began to rise, their bodies pulled upward by the dark magic as if they were puppets on strings.

The blood-soaked symbol beneath them lifted with them, its dark lines glowing with an ominous light.

Draupadi blazed like a fiery sun, her body trembling with a heat that seared the very air around her, while Pauravi glowed with the cold, ethereal light of a starless night.

Their eyes, wide with terror, rolled back, leaving only the whites visible as their bodies went rigid, taut with the unbearable strain of the dark magic.

They could feel it—hooks of energy sinking into their flesh, their very souls being pulled from within, as the men began to siphon their life force, their essence.

The agony was beyond anything they had ever known.

Ear-splitting screams tore from their throats, echoing through the night, even though no sound escaped.

Their bodies convulsed as wave after wave of pain crashed over them, their muscles seizing, their bones feeling like they were being crushed under the weight of their torment.

The men, in contrast, stood taller, their faces alight with dark satisfaction as they grew stronger, more powerful with each passing second.

The blood-soaked mark beneath them pulsed with an evil glow, shimmering with an aura that was almost tangible—thick, oily, and suffocating.

It felt like the very essence of despair had taken physical form, pressing down on the Kuruvanshis until they could barely breathe.

Ayushman threw his head back, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he roared into the night, his voice like thunder.

“Come to the world, my lord!”

The other men echoed his call, their voices rising with fervor as they shouted the incantation louder and louder, their words reverberating through the darkness.

The ground beneath them began to shake violently, cracks splintering out from the mark, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with malevolence.

And then, with a deafening crack, the symbol exploded.

Everyone, except those standing in the circle, was flung backward by the force of the blast.

The Kuruvanshis slammed into the ground with bone-rattling force, their bodies wracked with pain. But their agony was nothing compared to the horror that followed.

The earth beneath the symbol had torn open—a gaping, jagged wound in the fabric of reality itself. A portal.

It was no ordinary portal. It was a swirling vortex of darkness and flames, a twisted gateway that pulsed with an energy so evil that it sent waves of nausea and dread through everyone who looked at it.

The edges of the portal seemed to burn with a sickly, greenish fire, while the center was an abyss—black and endless, as if it led straight to the bowels of hell.

Terror gripped every heart, its icy fingers squeezing tight.

The Kuruvanshis stared in disbelief, paralyzed by the sheer weight of the horror before them.

It was as if all hope had been sucked into the portal, leaving nothing but fear and despair in its wake.

Pain throbbed through their bodies, a relentless reminder of their helplessness.

The soldiers who had been fighting moments earlier now lay scattered across the battlefield, their faces contorted in fear.

The once brave Kuruvanshi warriors were now nothing more than broken figures, their spirits crushed by the overwhelming evil that filled the air.

Duryodhan’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of failure.

He had failed to protect them. He had failed them all.

And now, as the portal yawned wide before him, its terrible energy sucking in the very light from the world, he realized the true cost of that failure.

There was no escape. No salvation. Only the yawning abyss and the horrifying future it promised.

As the ground beneath the circle began to tremble, the very air seemed to vibrate with malevolent energy.

It wasn’t just a tremor; it was the shaking of something far worse—something ancient, something beyond human comprehension.

The portal swirled with a feverish intensity, pulsating like a living wound in the earth, as if it had become a gaping mouth waiting to devour the world whole.

Then, from the darkest depths of the portal, a low, guttural growl began to rise. It wasn’t the sound of any creature that belonged in the realm of men.

It was primal, raw, and filled with the echoes of suffering from countless souls trapped in the underworld.

The ground cracked and split further, spewing an acrid stench, and from the blackened pit crawled the demon.

It was no ordinary demon.

Its towering form was skeletal yet grotesquely muscular, its skin blackened like coal, marred with sickly cracks that glowed with molten fire.

Its limbs were elongated, fingers twisted into claws that scraped the earth, leaving trails of scorched rock in their wake. Its eyes were hollow pits, bottomless wells of darkness that swallowed the light and reflected only nightmares.

Horns jutted out from its skull, curved like the talons of a ravenous beast, and its mouth—oh, its mouth—was filled with jagged, razor-sharp teeth, dripping with a foul, oozing blackness.

The demon’s very presence was suffocating, the air growing thick with sulfur and despair.

Every breath tasted like ash, every heartbeat felt like a countdown to oblivion.

It roared as it fully emerged, the sound tearing through the garden like a hurricane of hatred and malevolence.

The ground cracked further, unable to withstand the weight of such evil.

"Master."

The four chorused going down on their knees.

Its laugh, deep and guttural, sent shivers down the spines of everyone witnessing the horror.

The Kuruvanshis, bound and helpless, trembled in terror. This wasn’t just a demon—this was the embodiment of death itself, summoned to claim their world.

Ayushman and the others—Drupad, Druveda, and Rana—kneeled, their eyes wide with manic glee.

They reveled in the rising power that coursed through their veins, their bodies glowing with dark energy.

The demon’s presence fed their strength, making them feel invincible, unstoppable.

"You are here!" Draupad was grinning with insanity shining in his orbs.

"We are no longer mere men. We are gods in the making, our every dark desire about to be fulfilled." Boomed Rana.

"For you to be powerful their deaths are necessary." The demon spoke for the first time, a chill of terror shot down their backs.

He sounded terrifying, old as time and animalistic.

"They shall die master! They will!" Promised Ayushman.

And the four began to chant a more powerful incantation with a new vigor.

“O Lord of the Abyss, we call thee forth!
Bearer of the eternal night, rise from the void!

Blood of the stars, guide our hand,

Flesh of the earth, bend to our will.

Let the chains of fate be shattered,

Let the mortal world bow to your power!

Consume their souls, devour their light,

For we are your vessels, bound in the dark!

Rise, O Ancient One, from the pit of despair,

Through flame and shadow, through death and fear,

Unleash your wrath, let the heavens quake,

And claim this world in eternal night’s wake!"

As they chant, the atmosphere can grow heavier, more oppressive, and the words of the incantation echo in the very air itself, sending chills down the spines of those around.

The Kuruvanshis struggle with a new vigor, desperate and screaming soundlessly. Agony burning their bones.

Draupadi and Pauravi, suspended in the air like offerings to this monstrosity, were barely recognizable.

What had once been radiant, living beings were now emaciated shells, their skin cracked and flaking, their faces hollow and ghostly pale.

Every scream that tore from their throats was a wail of unimaginable agony, as the demon’s energy fed off their very souls.

Draupadi’s once fiery spirit flickered like a candle in a storm. Her body was failing her, her mind slowly giving in to the void.

Her strength, her defiance—everything that had once defined her—was slipping away.

Her once luminous eyes were now dull, glassy, staring into the abyss as if it had already claimed her.

Tears trekked silently down her face, cutting through the dust and blood. This was how it would end.

This was how she would die—alone, powerless, and in unimaginable torment.

She had made peace with death, hadn’t she?

After the loss of her men, what else was there to live for?

Her will had died with them, leaving her hollow. And yet, the pain of this moment—the sheer helplessness of knowing she couldn’t even fight for her own life—shredded her soul.

Her breath grew shallow, her body too weak to resist the pull of death’s embrace.

It was coming for her—she could feel it. Darkness, like a thick fog, pressed in from all sides, leeching the last bits of life from her.

Her chest heaved as if her soul itself was being torn from her lungs.

Her hands twitched as she reached out, seeking something—anything—but there was nothing.

Arya.

The faces of her five beloveds flashed before her eyes. Her heart lurched painfully at the memory of their smiles, their laughter.

The warmth of their touch, now just a distant, fading echo.

She clung to that image, the last flicker of hope she had left, as she felt the final threads of her life slip away.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body limp.

It was over.

And then, just as she surrendered, the demon roared again, louder, more terrible, shaking the heavens themselves.

The very earth seemed to scream in agony, as the portal beneath them began to surge with even greater power.

The dark energy surrounding them swirled violently, a storm of pure malevolence.

But Draupadi didn’t hear it. She had already embraced her end. . .

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