Pauravi tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. Panic surged through her as she realized the extent of their captivity. She was bound to the ground, unable to help her family. The sheer scale of the dark magic at play was overwhelming, and she felt a chill crawl up her spine.

A low, menacing chuckle broke through the silence. 

Pauravi's eyes darted to the source of the sound—a cloaked figure emerging from the shadows. Stirring a feeling of foreboding deep in her gut. One that screamed at u instinctively, where your life was in peril. The figure moved with an unnatural grace, the cloak billowing around him like a dark shroud, that seemed to be knitted from various spirits of hell. That outlined the cloak with a smoke, that was sentient, alive and curling around the man, like a second skin of sin.  The fabric seemed to absorb the very light around it, making the figure's form appear even more foreboding.

The figure's physical presence was unsettling. He was tall, his height accentuated by the flowing cloak that enveloped him. His frame was gaunt, with sharp, angular features that seemed to be carved from shadows. His skin, pale and almost translucent, had a sickly sheen that suggested an unnatural existence. Long, skeletal fingers emerged from the cloak's sleeves, each one ending in claw-like nails that gleamed ominously in the dim light.

All the dead soldiers bowed, falling to their knees, heads bowed. From the corner of her eye, she could she a few headless man on their knees too.  Her stomach churned, burning her from inside out. 

The figures attention was on her, though she couldn't see their face or eyes, his burned on her skin, seeping in her soul and tearing her from within. 

He snapped his fingers and suddenly she felt the force around her throat disappear and for once she could speak. 

"Who are you?" She choked the words out, pushing all her pain in the back of her mind. 

"Well...that's simple. Your end. Each one of yours." His voice sent a chill down her spine, terror coated the air, pungent and acidic, burning with each inhale. 

The man lifted his hand and a tornado of energies tugged, and weaved, creating a chaos as they wrapped around each and every ruin. The wind was roaring angrily, as though warning. Ebony clouds slammed against each other, sending bolt of lighting tearing down to the earth and struck right in the center before a huge flame burned, red, orange, yellow and blue flames roared with vengeance.

Loud pain filled cries resonated through the fire, as the man though whispered the chants, they weaved like shackles around each ribbon of energy, dark and vicious, commanding every evil. Loud giggles filled the air, sharp and terrifying, but there was nobody who was laughing. 

Though nobody had entered, she could feel various presence around her. Chaotic and evil, not one had any speck of lightness. The man tilted his head up and his chants grew louder he raised his hands high, adrenaline pumping through her veins, her breath hitched, as she felt herself being lifted in air, along with all her family. 

She struggled and screamed, but everything was futile. The runes tore away from the ground, levitating five feet in the ground, as each of her family and herself, were ten feet from the ground, hovering over one rune each. 

The rune circled and pulsed, shadowy forms trying to tear themselves away from each moving circle in the ruin, trying to free themselves. Dark, pulsing runes formed a grotesque latticework in the air around them, glowing with a sinister scarlet of bloody hue that merged with darkness. Each rune seemed to writhe with a life of its own, dark souls trapped within them, their anguished cries piercing through the oppressive silence.

As the figure drew closer, Pauravi could make out the contours of his face beneath the hood. The skin was stretched tight over his skeletal structure, giving his face an almost inhuman, macabre quality. His eyes, though obscured by the shadow of the hood, glowed with an unsettling, fiery intensity. They seemed to burn with a malevolent fire, reflecting an ancient and deep-seated rage.

No matter how hard she tried to focus on his features they always blurred and evaded her recognition, there was some magic at play she had no doubt about it.

The figure's voice, deep and gravelly, resonated with a dark power that seemed to seep into the very soul. "Do you recognize me?" he intoned, his voice like the rustling of dry leaves. "Or perhaps you'd like a hint?"

The taunt was clear in the voice, his jabs meant nothing, she tried to push away the exhaustion and agony that were blanketing her judgement and made it difficult for her to focus. 

Her gaze met with Dhara's, who was gazing at her unwaveringly, though she was hugging the first wife of Duryodhan, though that one look, giving her strength she so desperately craved. Though her past was threatening to overtake her mind, she was once again reminded that she wasn't alone. 

She had a family with her. 

"You all look so pretty today." There was a sick giddiness in the figures voice, as he gazed around. He snapped a finger and multiple members of her family roared in anger. He eased the magic, allowing them to speak she concluded. 

"I will kill you!" Bhism roared, fighting the bonds with a new vigor. 

"Free me you coward and just see you will find yourself in the deep pits of the fucking hell so very soon!" Vikarn roared, agony flaming his heart each time he saw his family so helpless. Had Duryodhan and Dushasan been here, along with his great five cousins this man would be begging for his death. 

The figure laughed, his voice robotic and shattered. "I have had the tour of hell long back. Now it's time, I send each one of you there." 

"What do you want? Why have you attacked my kingdom?" Dhritrashtr growled, struggling against the bonds. 

"What other reason than your deaths?" The figure taunted. 

"Who the hell are you?" Yuyutsu raged at his helplessness. 

"Oh nothing but your past. Duryodhan's to be specific. He and I have a score to settle you see. You all are just collateral damage." 

The figure walked around, gazing at all wilted flowers and death that surrounded him. 

"If you wanted to settle a score, you should have fought like a warrior and not like a monster attacking at night." Kunti was furious, her eyes spitting fire at the man ahead. 

The man turned to face her, "You amuse me woman, with all this walking dead around, do I look like a fucking saint to you? I am a monster, a fucking demon, of course I'II attack like one." He scoffed, shaking his head at the idiocy of each of the bloody royals of Hastinapur. 

"Mind your damn words, I will flay down your hide." Another Kaurav roared, his blood bubbling, how dare this man speak so his Kakishree in  a disrespectful manner. 

Pauravi's heart raced. The voice was chillingly familiar, but the fear clouded her thoughts, preventing her from placing it. Her family  looked at the figure with a mix of confusion and dread. None of them spoke, or they couldn't she suspected the magic was still in place, their eyes locked on the cloaked figure, their expressions reflecting the terror that she felt.

The figure's eyes—though obscured by the shadow of the hood—seemed to gleam with malevolent amusement. "Look at you all," he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "Suspended in mid-air like puppets, bound by the dark forces I command. Isn't it poetic?" He said, ignoring the threat completely. 

The Kuruvanshi struggled against their restraints, their faces contorted with frustration and anger. Dronacharya's voice broke through the darkness, repeating the same question, hoping the damn man will answer.  "Who are you? What do you want?"

The figure laughed, a sound that reverberated with a sinister echo. "You dare to ask again? You should know by now. But perhaps you need a reminder of your failures."

He raised his hand, and the runes glowed brighter, their red light intensifying. The souls trapped within the runes screamed louder, their cries merging into a cacophony of torment that filled the garden. The  Kurus flinched at the sound. 

Dhritrashtr voice, tinged with anger and defiance, broke through the noise. "We will never bow to you, if that's what you are hoping for. You can't break us."

The figure's laugh grew more chilling. "Bow? Oh, I don't intend for you to bow. I intend for you to suffer." He turned to Pauravi, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "And you, Pauravi, my dear. You should feel honored. You get to witness this grand spectacle."

Pauravi's breath caught in her throat. "Why? Why are you doing this?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling with fear. Pain throbbing through her each cell, the mere task of talking sent, fire bolts of agony sailing down her bloodline. 

The figure's eyes seemed to bore into her, though his face was hidden in shadow. "Why? Because I can. I was robbed of my vengeance, and now I will take it from everyone."

Pauravi's mind raced. The realization of the figure's intent was beginning to dawn on her, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it. The sheer enormity of the dark magic and the malevolent presence before her made her want to deny the truth.

The figure began to pace, his cloak trailing behind him like a dark stream. "You see, King Dhritrashtr, your sons and your pathetic family have always tried to mess with the wrong people. But no one ever considered what happens when the shadows come to claim their due."

He gestured to the runes, and they pulsed more violently, causing the restrained figures to convulse in pain. The cries of the trapped souls grew louder, their anguish mixing with the terror of those caught in the dark magic's grip.

The night was a void of darkness, with no moon or stars visible in the sky. The darkness seemed to press down on them, a heavy, suffocating blanket that swallowed all hope and light. The atmosphere was thick with the weight of impending doom.

Only the angry blaze that burned in the center of the gardens gave a vicious yellow glow like hell had visited Hastinapur. It painted the cloaked figure in an eerie glow. 

Pauravi's gaze was fixed on the cloaked figure, her heart pounding as she tried to comprehend the horror before her. Her thoughts were a jumble of fear and disbelief. The figure's taunts and the dark magic that surrounded them created a nightmare that seemed all too real.

As if sensing her growing despair, the figure paused and turned to face her. "It's time for the grand reveal, don't you think?" he said, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo in the void.

She wanted to shake her head. Her eyes locked with Bhanu's who looked deadly pale, the realization was circling in their eyes, but so was the denial. This couldn't be happening. 

Their nightmare couldn't have come back..

There was just no way. . .

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