The basement was a tomb of silence, the lingering notes of the bone flute still hanging like a physical weight in the frigid air. Chandru lay slumped against the stone wall, his head lolling to the side, trapped in the depths of a magically induced slumber.

  The heavy stillness was finally broken by the sharp, rhythmic clack-clack of sandals hitting the stone stairs.

  The medicine lady appeared, her face a mask of urgency. In her hands, she balanced a heavy brass bowl filled with steaming, near-boiling water. Without a second’s hesitation, she dashed the scalding contents directly onto Chandru’s face.

  Chandru bolted upright with a choked cry, gasping as his senses violently reconnected with the world. He wiped the dripping moisture from his eyes, his chest heaving as he fought to find his bearings.

  "Thank the gods... it worked," the medicine lady said, her hands moving in fluid signs to match her spoken words.

  Chandru shook his head, trying to clear the lingering mental cobwebs. "I was careless," he rasped. "She escaped... but how are you even awake? That music put everyone under."

  The lady gave a small, grim smile. "I was down the hills making a purchase. When I returned, I saw Sona—the goblin girl—fleeing into the night with the flute player. I entered the hall to find everyone dead to the world. Then, in the basement, I found you."

  She paused, looking at the empty brass bowl. "I remembered how Master Pedro woke you years ago, when you were only fourteen, in this very cellar. I watched him pour boiling water over you then, just as I did now. He told you: 'What burns human skin only bites a Celestial like an ant.' It was the violent shock your sensory organs needed to break the spell. I was standing right beside him when he said it."

  Chandru touched his cheek; despite the heat of the water, his skin was barely flushed. "A strong memory," he muttered, his eyes hardening as he stood up. "Now tell me—which way did they run?"

  On the mountain path, the moon was swallowed by thick clouds, casting the world into jagged shadows. Tharag stood frozen, the air rattling in his throat. Blocking his way was the Moonmask—a specter of white bandages and a dark suit silhouetted against the raw stone of the cliffs.

  "Go away," the Moonmask rumbled, his voice a low, predatory growl. "I’ll let you live... for now."

  Tharag ground his teeth, his bruised ego battling a primal instinct for survival. "You said you’d kill me on the next no-moon day!"

  Chandru’s eyes narrowed behind the mask, a faint, lethal smile playing on his lips. "I’ll wait until that day. Just don’t disappoint me—try not to die in a single hit."

  The Moonmask took a deliberate step forward. Suddenly, the veins in his right hand ignited with a faint, celestial blue glow. The sheer pressure of the surging energy made the very air hum with power. Terrified and realizing he was utterly outmatched, Tharag let out a snarl of cowardice. He turned and fled into the blackness of the forest, abandoning the siblings without a backward glance.

  The moment Tharag’s footsteps faded into the distance, the blue glow flickered out. Chandru’s knees buckled. He collapsed against a gnarled tree, gasping for air that wouldn't come. His hip was sodden with fresh blood; the high-speed pursuit had torn his internal injuries wide open. He had been bluffing, using every ounce of his crumbling will to project an image of a god while his body failed him.

  Raksha rushed to his side, her breath hitching as she saw the dark stain blooming through his clothes. He had pushed himself past the breaking point just to keep her safe.

  "Help him, Rakhi! Please!" Raksha begged, looking desperately at her brother.

  Rakhi stood several paces back, his expression a mask of cold indifference. "Are you a fool? This is a suicide mission. He is the hunter; we are the prey. Why do you care if he bleeds out?"

  "He protected us," Raksha whispered, her trembling hands hovering over the jagged wound.

  "So you're defending him now? After everything we've endured?" Rakhi sneered, his eyes flashing. "What is your plan, sister?"

  "I need to protect him," Raksha said, her voice finding a sudden, iron firmness.

  Rakhi turned his back on her, the bone flute tucked securely into his belt. "I don't care if you die protecting a human. Do whatever you want. But ask yourself—is it truly worth saving the man who hunts your kind?"

  "Rakhi, don't leave! Help him!" she cried out.

  But Rakhi offered no answer. He vanished into the shadows like a ghost, leaving the silence of the mountain behind. Left alone in the dust, Raksha sank to her knees and gathered the unconscious Moonmask into her arms, cradling him against her chest.

  Then, a sound drifted through the trees, growing louder with every passing second. "We’re coming, Chandru! Hold on... we're coming to save you!"

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  ?The Karthas began to emerge from the brush one by one, their torches cutting through the mountain mist. Raksha signaled to them frantically, and they swarmed the clearing to find her holding their fallen leader.

  ?"Thank you, lady," the first Kartha (Kartha 1) said, breathing hard as he knelt to check Chandru’s pulse. "Did you see a pair of goblins? The ones who attacked him?"

  ?Kartha 2 wiped sweat from his brow, his eyes scanning the treeline. "The medicine lady told us they were disguised as humans. They couldn't have gone far."

  ?Raksha forced a small, innocent smile, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I haven't seen anyone like that. I just found him bleeding while I was walking this way."

  ?"It’s not safe for a young lady like you to be wandering the mountain alone at night," Kartha 2 remarked. "Tonight, you should stay at the Section D HQ for your own safety."

  ?"I... I don't want that," Raksha said, her voice wavering. "I can manage on my own."

  ?"Enough talking," another Kartha interrupted, his voice thick with dread. "Chandru is bleeding nonstop. If this continues, he’ll be dead before we reach the gates."

  ?Raksha looked down at the man in her arms and made her choice. Stepping forward, she firmly told the Karthas to clear the fabric from his wound. She asked one of the men for his weapon, and before they could protest, she drew the blade across her own palm.

  ?A thick, vibrant green fluid welled up from the cut. She collected it and applied it directly to Chandru’s torn hip.

  ?"Take him to the HQ," Raksha commanded, her voice finding a sudden authority. "Make sure he rests for a few days. He will be okay now."

  ?As she turned to slip away, the Karthas suddenly surrounded her, their hands hovering near their hilts.

  ?"I have seen green blood before," Kartha 1 said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "It means you are a Mythic. Tell me... what are you really?"

  ?Before Raksha could find a lie, the medicine lady appeared from the darkness, stepping between the girl and the warriors.

  ?"She is one of us," the lady intervened smoothly. "A student of Section D."

  ?"But she bleeds green," Kartha 2 countered, pointing at the stained dirt.

  ?"It is her nature," the medicine lady replied without missing a beat. "She is a specific kind of Paranorman who uses her own blood as a healing factor. A living apothecary."

  ?The Karthas exchanged curious, skeptical looks. "Hmm... that’s a new one. Forgive us, girl. But I haven't seen her around the HQ before."

  ?"She often sneaks out without permission to see the stage shows," the medicine lady added, casting a pointed look at Raksha. "Since Mr. Pedro isn't here to keep watch, she wandered off."

  ?"Yes... that's it," Raksha whispered, playing along.

  ?"That's a bad habit, girl," Kartha 1 muttered, though he seemed to relax.

  ?The medicine lady grabbed Raksha’s arm, her grip firm. "Now, like a good girl, she is going to come back to Section D with me. Won't you... Sona?"

  ?Raksha looked at the ring of armed men, then at the dark forest where she could have escaped. "Uh... that’s difficult," she started, her eyes darting for an exit.

  ?The medicine lady’s eyes flashed with a silent, iron-clad warning. "Or shall I seek the Karthas' help in bringing you back?"

  ?Raksha went quiet, realizing her path was set. "That's... not required. I’ll come."

  Back at the hidden village in Kadambur, the night air was cool and deceptively peaceful. Vaishu sat alone on a stone bench, her neck tilted back as she gazed at the shimmering expanse above.

  "Hey... what are you looking at?" Surya asked, walking up to join her.

  "The stars," Vaishu replied softly.

  Surya looked up. "Yeah... they’re bright tonight. Not a single cloud in the sky."

  "When I was a kid," Vaishu continued, her voice tinged with nostalgia, "my father taught me the foundations of teleportation. He would tell me: 'Before you jump, imagine a line drawn between two stars—your start and your destination. Focus on that connection, and the space between will vanish.' He made it seem so simple."

  "Your father seems like he was a great teacher," Surya said.

  "He was. I was so confident when he was beside me. But after he was gone... a sense of insecurity took over. I started to fear that I couldn’t grow my traits on my own. I worried that even if I mastered them, I’d fail when it mattered most."

  Surya turned to her, his expression earnest. "You’re worrying too much, Vaishu. Listen. My grandpa used to say that the souls who want us to be happy never truly leave. Your father is still in your memories. Next time you try to teleport, imagine he’s watching you—cheering you on. It will work."

  Vaishu looked at him, a small glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Sounds like you’ve done that before."

  "Every single day," Surya admitted with a faint smile.

  Their moment of peace was interrupted by the village Kartha, Mr. Devesh, who invited them to the communal dining hall for a late-night feast. Pari, Surya, Vaishu, and Rohan sat at a long wooden table surrounded by villagers whose smiles remained perfectly, eerily uniform.

  Rohan and Surya, driven by their teenage appetites, immediately dove into the attractively prepared meat dishes. Pari, however, hesitated. He picked up a piece of the dark, tender meat and turned to the little girl they had rescued earlier.

  "What is this exactly?" Pari asked.

  The girl’s smile widened, her eyes unblinking. "It’s the bat's testicles," she chirped.

  Surya and Rohan froze, their chews coming to a sudden, horrifying halt. A second later, both boys bolted from the room, the sounds of violent vomiting echoing from the hallway.

  As the night deepened, a heavy, unnatural sleep fell over the lodge. In his slumber, Surya saw the face of the pregnant lady from his dreams. Her voice was a panicked whisper: "Wake up! Wake up! It’s urgent!"

  Surya’s eyes snapped open. He tried to move, but his limbs were pinned. He looked down to find himself—along with Pari, Rohan, and Vaishu—bound tightly in thick, root like ropes . He struggled to shake his friends awake, but they were unresponsive, heavily sedated by the "delicacies" they had consumed.

  Through the window, Surya saw a horrific sight. In the center of the village, the massive stone bowl Vaishu had spotted earlier was perched over a roaring fire. The villagers were tossing in herbs and liquids, preparing a massive brew.

  He spotted the little girl sitting on a stump nearby, watching the flames with a chilling intensity.

  "Hey! You!" Surya hissed. "What is happening? Why are we tied up?"

  The girl turned her head, but when she spoke, the voice that came out was not hers—it was the raspy, guttural croak of an old man. "We are cooking," she said.

  A chill ran down Surya's spine. "Cooking what?"

  "Human Gravy," she croaked.

  The girl’s head began to rotate—not just a tilt, but a full, sickening 180-degree spin until she was looking at him from over her back.

  "Welcome to Gremblin Village!".