Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable
Chapter 136 - 134: When The Familiar Faces Calls... Face Turns Pale...
(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...
Guys This volume will be filled with a little horrer elements... I hope you guys will like it.
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The meeting place was a small clearing hidden within a forest close to the borders of Trivenivrata.
It wasn’t the main gathering point of their clans.
It wasn’t the large forest camp where dozens of practitioners lived.
This place had been chosen specifically because it was isolated and close enough to the kingdom for the five infiltrators to meet without attracting attention.
The night was dark.
Clouds covered most of the sky, allowing only a few stars to peek through.
Tall trees surrounded the clearing from every side, their branches swaying gently in the cold breeze.
In the center, a small campfire burned steadily, its orange glow pushing back the darkness just enough for the five men to see one another.
The practitioners had returned one after another after completing their assignments.
Each had successfully buried a tantra doll at the designated locations.
One in the north.
One in the south.
One in the east.
One in the west.
And the final one near the heart of the kingdom.
Weeks of planning, observation, and preparation had finally reached this stage.
The oldest among them sat down on a fallen log and stretched his tired legs.
A rare smile appeared on his face.
"At least this time nothing exploded."
The others laughed.
The joke was simple, but everyone understood it.
After the disaster involving the pishachas and the deaths of their fellow practitioners, even a small success felt worth celebrating.
One of the younger men removed his cloak and tossed it beside him.
"The western route was easier than I expected."
He picked up a stick and pushed a piece of wood deeper into the fire.
"There were barely any patrols."
Another nodded.
"The eastern side was quiet too."
"The only problem I had was avoiding a group of pilgrims."
The third practitioner chuckled.
"I almost got caught by a drunk merchant."
That earned another round of laughter.
"How?"
"He wouldn’t stop talking."
The man groaned dramatically.
"For half an hour he kept telling me how wonderful King Devara was."
The others rolled their eyes.
That had become a common experience inside Trivenivrata.
No matter where they went, people eventually started talking about Devara.
The king this.
The king that.
The king helped this farmer.
The king solved that dispute.
The king visited this temple.
The king spoke to those children.
At times it became almost irritating.
The oldest practitioner leaned back.
"I’ve never seen people speak about a ruler like this." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚
"What do you mean?"
"They trust him."
The clearing became slightly quieter.
The others understood what he meant.
Fear was common.
Respect was common.
Obedience was common.
But genuine trust?
That was much harder to find.
The youngest practitioner threw another branch into the fire.
"Maybe that’s why the kingdom feels different."
Nobody replied immediately.
Because deep down, they had all noticed it.
The people here smiled more.
The markets were livelier.
The villages seemed prosperous.
Even ordinary guards appeared less tense than those in neighboring kingdoms.
It was strange.
The conversation continued for some time.
Each practitioner described the location where he had buried his doll and the precautions he had taken.
Everything had gone smoothly.
No interruptions.
No unexpected encounters.
No signs of trouble.
The oldest practitioner finally allowed himself to relax.
For the first time in weeks, he felt as though they had gained some momentum.
Then—
A strange sound drifted through the trees.
Ching.
The sound was faint.
So faint that for a moment the men thought they had imagined it.
The conversation died instantly.
All five looked up.
The forest became silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The crackling of the fire suddenly sounded much louder than before.
The youngest frowned.
-Frown!
"Did anyone hear that?"
One of the others tilted his head.
"Hear what?"
"That sound."
The group listened carefully.
Nothing.
Only the wind.
Only the rustling leaves.
After a few moments, the oldest practitioner shook his head.
"Probably a branch."
The others nodded.
It seemed reasonable enough.
The conversation slowly resumed.
Then the sound came again.
Ching... Ching...
This time every one of them heard it.
The voices stopped.
The smiles vanished.
The sound was unmistakable now.
Metal.
Metal striking metal.
Like chains moving.
The oldest practitioner’s eyes narrowed.
Nobody spoke.
The forest around them suddenly felt much larger than it had a few moments ago.
Then the sound came a third time.
Much closer.
CHING... CHING... CHING...
All five men rose to their feet almost instantly.
The sound wasn’t stationary.
It was moving.
Fast. Extremely fast.
Like someone was running through the forest.
The chain sounds echoed from one side of the clearing to the other.
One moment they came from the left.
The next from behind.
Then somewhere ahead.
The men turned repeatedly trying to locate the source.
But every time they thought they had found the direction, the sound shifted elsewhere.
The youngest practitioner’s hand instinctively moved toward the protective charms hanging beneath his robes.
"...."
His throat suddenly felt dry.
"What is that?"
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
The oldest practitioner began silently reciting a detection mantra beneath his breath.
His senses expanded outward.
Searching.
Listening.
Feeling.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
No spirit. No animal.
No human presence.
And yet—The chains continued.
Suddenly something rushed past the clearing.
A blur.
-FWOOSH!
Too fast to properly see.
The fire flickered violently.
Several loose leaves scattered into the air.
One practitioner stumbled backward.
His eyes widened.
"It passed me."
"What passed you?"
"I don’t know!"
The man looked genuinely shaken.
"It felt like someone ran right beside me."
A cold breeze swept through the clearing.
Much colder than before.
The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
Then—A woman’s laughter echoed through the forest.
Soft. Playful. Almost teasing.
The sound lasted only a few seconds.
"-Fufufu!!!"
But every one of the practitioners heard it clearly.
The laughter seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Not loud. Not threatening.
Almost amused.
As though someone was watching them and finding the situation entertaining.
The youngest practitioner felt goosebumps rise across his arms.
The oldest practitioner’s expression hardened.
"Who’s there?"
His voice rang through the clearing.
No answer came.
Only silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then one of the men froze.
His eyes locked onto something between the trees.
"There."
The others immediately turned.
For the briefest moment, they saw a figure standing among the shadows.
A woman.
Long dark hair.
Wearing White clothing.
Motionless as if she were a statue.
Watching them.
"...."
Nobody could clearly see her face.
The distance was too great.
And before anyone could react—She was gone.
Simply gone.
Not running. Not walking.
Gone.
The practitioners immediately rushed toward the spot.
Branches snapped beneath their feet as they searched the area.
Nothing.
No footprints. No scent.
No disturbed leaves.
No signs that anyone had ever been there.
The oldest practitioner slowly straightened.
A frown appeared on his face.
This was impossible.
Someone had been there.
All five of them had seen her.
Yet there was no trace whatsoever.
Then the chains returned.
Far away now.
Deeper within the forest.
Ching...
Ching...
Ching...
The sound gradually faded into the darkness.
The five men stood there listening until it vanished completely.
Nobody was eager to return to the fire.
Nobody was eager to admit what they were thinking.
Because for the first time since entering Trivenivrata, each of them felt the same unsettling thought creeping into their minds.
What if someone had been watching them from the very beginning?
And what if whatever it was already knew exactly who they were and why they had come?
The five practitioners remained standing among the trees long after the sound of the chains disappeared.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody laughed.
The relaxed atmosphere from earlier had vanished completely.
The fire still burned back in the clearing, but somehow even its warm light no longer felt comforting.
The oldest practitioner slowly scanned the darkness.
His instincts, sharpened through decades of dealing with spirits, curses, and unseen forces, were screaming at him that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Yet that was what troubled him the most.
He could not identify what it was.
A spirit should leave traces.
A wandering ghost should have a presence.
A malevolent entity should carry some form of corruption.
But this...
This felt like nothing.
And that frightened him more than any demon or spirit he had encountered before.
The five men slowly began making their way back toward the campfire.
The youngest among them kept glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.
His heart refused to settle.
The forest felt different now.
As if the darkness itself had become aware of them.
Then—A voice spoke.
Softly.
Almost like a whisper.
"...Son."
The youngest practitioner froze.
"...."
Every muscle in his body locked.
His eyes widened.
No.
That was impossible.
His breathing became uneven.
Because he knew that voice.
He had heard it countless times during his childhood.
He remembered hearing it when he was sick.
When he was afraid.
When he had nightmares.
His mother’s voice.
But she had been dead for nearly fifteen years.
Slowly, trembling slightly, he turned around.
Nothing.
Only trees. Only darkness.
The others noticed his reaction.
"What happened?"
Before he could answer—Another voice echoed through the forest.
This time from a different direction.
"Husband..."
One of the older practitioners went completely pale.
The color drained from his face.
That voice.
His wife.
The wife he had buried with his own hands years ago.
The woman whose funeral pyre he had personally lit.
A third voice echoed.
Then a fourth.
Then a fifth.
Suddenly the forest seemed filled with whispers.
The five practitioners stood frozen as familiar voices called out from every direction.
Friends.
Brothers.
Teachers.
Children.
Parents.
Lovers.
Every voice belonged to someone who should not have been speaking.
Someone who was already dead.
One practitioner stumbled backward.
"No..."
His voice trembled.
"No, no, no..."
Because among the voices he heard were not only loved ones.
There were others.
The people he had harmed.
The people sacrificed during rituals.
The people whose deaths had advanced his studies.
The people whose faces he had tried to forget.
Now their voices surrounded him from every side.
Calling his name.
Not screaming.
Not accusing.
Simply calling.
Which somehow made it worse.
Far worse.
The forest became a nightmare of memories.
The practitioners looked around wildly.
Trying to find the source.
Trying to locate the speakers.
Trying to convince themselves they were imagining it.
Then suddenly—
A violent gust of wind exploded through the trees.
WHOOM!
The force nearly knocked them off their feet.
Branches bent violently.
Leaves filled the air.
The campfire in the clearing stretched sideways as though an invisible storm had struck.
The practitioners covered their faces.
The wind howled through the forest.
For several moments they could barely keep their eyes open.
Then—
The wind stopped.
Just as suddenly as it had begun.
Silence returned.
Slowly, the practitioners lowered their arms.
And froze.
Figures stood among the trees.
Dozens of them.
Men.
Women.
Children.
Old people.
Young people.
Some stood near the fire.
Others stood between the trees.
Others watched from deeper within the darkness.
The youngest practitioner’s knees nearly gave out.
Because standing only twenty feet away was his mother.
Exactly as he remembered her.
The same clothes.
The same face.
The same gentle eyes.
Nearby, another practitioner saw his dead wife.
Another saw a childhood friend.
Another saw a teacher who had died decades ago.
And mixed among them were other figures.
Victims.
People they had sacrificed.
People they had betrayed.
People whose lives had ended because of their actions.
The forest seemed crowded with the dead.
Yet something immediately felt wrong.
The oldest practitioner realized it first.
His eyes widened.
He could see them.
But he couldn’t sense them.
Not at all.
No spiritual energy. No ghostly presence.
No traces.
Nothing.
It was as though they were there...
And not there at the same time.
His heart sank.
"What are these things?"
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(Author note:)
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Guys I have a new fic which named: Karuppan: King of Openings.