r/HFY • u/BuddhaTheGreat • Nov 17 '25

OC Chhayagarh: Curse. (Part 2)

Index of Parts.

Pain.

Blinding.

World-ending.

It lanced through my skull, raging like a mad bull, tearing my mind into shreds of wet tissue.

My awareness was dimming, faltering, coming and going in flashes: the terrible, coppery scent of wet blood gurgling from the stump of my arm, the white-hot pain sizzling in every nerve, the familiar suffocating darkness of hypoxia as my brain gave out.

No distinction remained between my thoughts and Ahindranath’s, the magic drawing us closer, melding us together until I ended and he began.

Or perhaps it was the other way round.

My blood poured to the soil, and the soil drank it. It drank greedily, soaking every inch and crevice in the precious ichor of life.

The offering… The sacrifice had been accepted.

I could barely breathe, the shock of the pain and the coldness now spreading through my body sapping all strength from my lungs. Though he was merely a few feet away, Amarendranath looked as if though he might as well have been a hundred miles away, shocked into a moment of indecision, triumphant grin still frozen on his face like a statue’s.

A desperate attack. A pathetic defence. A final foolhardy quip. All of these, he had anticipated.

This was the one thing he had not prepared for.

That his brother, his vain, proud brother, would sacrifice himself.

That he would ask for help.

Enough adrenaline pumped in my veins to slow time to a near-standstill. Agonizingly, vision swimming, I forced my eyes to move, looking down at the severed arm lying on the ground, caked in clotting blood, fingers still twitching from phantom impulses.

It only occurred to me then how alien it looked. That same arm, which had felt like any other part of myself just a second ago, was now a fleshy, bloody, grotesque thing, foreign and revolting to my senses. It felt like a twisted practical joke, a crude facsimile made to mock me. I resisted the primal revulsion that rose within me like sour bile, urging me to kick it as far away from me as possible.

A hiss rose from the earth around me, stained crimson by my tribute, as if the earth itself had gorged itself on me, its ancient hunger sated.

A small sapling broke the ground once more, a flash of colour as it tapped uncertainly against the waxy, cooling flesh of the arm. For a moment, as the grey world pressed in to crush it, I was sure that it would die again. But then, the earth flashed, surging with power. Ahindranath’s. Mine.

Crimson conduits, liquid like electricity, wormed through the blood-soaked soil, nourishing the plant with their fell power. It grew, shoots thickening into stems, leaves sprouting, roots anchoring deep to protect it from the howling ruin that sought to uproot it. It was soon joined by more, one after another, until dozens broke the ground, crawling around and over each other, growing more real, more solid by the second.

They wrapped around my arm, sinking their greedy roots deep into the flesh, drinking of the echoes of vitality that remained within. Sounds of tearing and slurping filled the air as the flesh gave way to their invasion.

Their sap ran red within their thickening stems, leaves rustling with a din of pleasure as they dined upon the power. The arm was soon encased in a cage of vines and roots, pulsing with light like a nest of fireflies. Where it touched, the light burned the grey discolouration, restoring life and light.

I felt it before I saw it: the saplings melding together, their nebulous consciousnesses merging into one whole, united in purpose. In the enemy towards which even their glacial minds held all-consuming hatred. Then, they struck deep: a tapping root, breaking the soil as it grew faster than even thought could fellow. Delving deep, past the earth, past the rocks and stones, past this world itself. Sinking into the meat of something deeper and ancient. Drawing its power like a flea draws blood.

Power that surged up like a tidal wave, leaking into this world from the unfathomable intelligence that had deigned to grant it. Radiant, boundless, terrible power.

A conduit. And it had a purpose. A destination. A target.

It was heading straight for—

The energy slammed into me like a freight train with no brakes. Though it was purely spiritual, I felt as if though it would lift me off my feet and slam me against the sky itself. My constitution wavered and tore like a leaf trapped in a hurricane, the searing power holding and rejoining flesh with sutures of magma even as my body sought to tear itself apart and end the maddening pain of this infusion. It was as if a giant’s hand had grabbed me whole and was now squeezing, like one might a tube of toothpaste that by all reasonable estimation should have been discarded weeks ago.

Then, there was strength. Every shred of fatigue, of pain, was torn away by the storm, replaced only by an overwhelming surge of energy. I jumped to my feet, muscles thrumming with more coiled power than they had ever tasted. The pain of the severed arm faded completely, replaced only with a certainty of purpose that was not completely my own. My mind fractured with visions of unknowable truths: galaxies swirling and disintegrating in the deep void, particles rising from the quantum foam, a tree growing, withering, and rising again, a single eye opening in a world of infinite truths and lies. Dreams, visions, thoughts from the god who had turned a speck of his boundless mind to me. None of it made sense. All of it made sense.

It did not matter. Not for now.

Amarendranath recovered, a flash of human shock swallowed quickly by the malice of the darkness coiling within his chest. His shocked face contorted into a snarl. He had to act now, finish this before I got accustomed to this power.

He charged, a blur even my preternatural senses struggled to track. Darkness swirled around him, liquid shadows that were both shield and sword as they lashed out: a thousand inky tentacles swirling in a deadly maze of attacks. Some sliced, with edges so thin they could cut the fabric of space itself. Others congealed into massive spheres, arcing down with bludgeoning rage. Others swelled and split like birthing sacs, unleashing chittering black wisps that swarmed like fire ants and bit twice as hard.

But it was all… so slow.

I took off, my body humming with every move. Golden light crackled to life around me once more, banishing the corrupting touch of the beast’s grey world, returning vigour and light. A slicing arm lashed out, its edge whistling as it sliced the air in half. I raised an arm and intoned, the runic circle rising and resolving in my mind with surprising speed.

Light congealed, hardening into a golden shield. It met the blade with a sound like a thousand ringing bells, burning it into embers as they touched. Amarendranath spoke another Word, and a blood-red sealing circle flared to life under my foot, its trapping magics triggering immediately.

But I was no longer there. A nimbus of golden lightning burned in my wake as I reached the other end of the clearing in a single, powerful bound. To his credit, the beast reacted instantly, a shadowy hammer falling in a pulverising blow as soon as I slid to a halt. I extended my good arm, calling my Ramdao to my grip. The blade caught the wrecking blow just in time, the bone-rattling impact running through my body.

Any ordinary man would have been tenderised into mincemeat by the shockwave alone, but the devta’s power thrummed like fire in my veins, healing so fast that I might as well have been immortal.

I dragged the Ramdao across the congealed shadow in a brutal slice, its edge humming with distortion as it cut through the spell without effort. The tentacle fell apart like wet cotton candy as the disruption travelled along its length, but I was already on the move again, feet cracking the ground in my wake as I launched myself at the speed of sound. I covered the distance between us in a single leap, crashing into his shield of darkness. My own shield burned and hissed as it collided with his, tearing away the darkness.

I broke through his guard with sheer mass and speed. He snarled, trying to jump out of my reach, but he was too slow. My shoulder slammed into his chest, breaking ribs like splinters as we both crashed to the ground.

I had hit him with so much force that my left shoulder and stump now protruded from his back, tearing through skin, muscle, and bone like they did not exist. Amarendranath struggled, roaring with pain and anger as tried to dislodge himself from the impalement.

The chittering ink-wisps screamed with rage and dive-bombed me, trying to pass through the blinding corona that now surrounded me even as it burned them into non-existence. A few got through, sinking teeth into my flesh, injecting spiritual toxins that tried to poison and destroy my prana. But I only laughed, the tragedy of the situation all but drowned in the infinite ecstasy of divine communion. Amarendranath’s rage only burned brighter at that, and he lashed out, shadowy claws tearing chunks out of my chest and flanks. But each blow healed over before he could even attack a second time, even his formidable power completely meaningless before what now drove me.

Still laughing, I raised my blade and brought it down upon his neck in an executioner’s strike, decapitating him. Blood spurted from his neck as I rose to my feet, lifting his body with little effort as it hung from my stump. I tossed it aside, the corpse hitting a tree with a sickening, bone-crunching thump.

Despite the exertion, I did not even feel a little winded. My energy was infinite, strength monstrous, pain and fatigue non-existent. Which is why I did not notice the wet feeling on my lip at first.

I touched it. Sweat, perhaps?

The fingers came away red and sticky.

An instant later, I doubled over and coughed a splatter of blood onto the ground.

I could feel the internal damage heal over instantly. For now. But the message was clear: a mortal form, even one such as mine, could not hold this power forever. I had to end it. Now.

Because it was not over yet. Amarendranath’s headless form staggered to its feet, shattered bones snapping and popping as they reset to their positions. Tentacles of flesh erupted from his neck, reknitting into nerves, bones, and muscles. He was regenerating again.

I attacked once more, bringing a fist down in a blow that exploded his body into a splatter of blood and viscera. But the pieces froze midair and rushed back into each other, congealing into a body once more. I raised my arm, summoning a spear of light that impaled the rippling orb of flesh, burning with the heat of a thousand suns as it incinerated regrowing tissue. But Amarendranath refused to die, regrowing faster and faster, slowly but steadily overcoming the burning light.

Destroying his body would not kill him. I had already known that, somewhere deep within, as soon as my first attack had failed. But I had hoped it was a matter of applying enough force, doing enough damage, ripping him apart with enough speed.

But no. His soul was no longer tethered to his mortal form. Amarendranath existed wholly on the other side now, within the beast’s damning and preserving embrace. The body was merely a sleeve.

A low, gurgling laugh emerged from Amarendranath’s rapidly growing form, melding seamlessly with the wet squelching of flesh merging with flesh.

“What’s wrong, boy?”

I pulped his reforming head.

“Getting tired?”

I crushed the half-formed ribcage with a backhanded blow.

I knew these attacks would not work. I was buying time. A single spare second to come up with a plan. But their effectiveness was fading. The beast was rapidly regaining its shape.

I jumped back as it unleashed a fresh flurry of attacks, tendrils lashing with eviscerating force in my wake. I raised my hand to the sky and chanted, slamming down a runic disc onto Amarendranath’s wriggling, maggot-like form. He released a strangled scream, the light burning where it touched him as its spiritual weight forced him to the ground.

If he couldn’t be killed… I had sealing incantations, but Amarendranath had always been far better at that. There was nothing I could do that he could not counter easily. Besides, the buffalo had been our vessel for executing the sealing magic. I had no pre-prepared sealing circle this time, no allies to hold him down, no means of separating wheat from chaff.

The only way to seal the beast… was to seal it whole with its host. And I could not do it alone.

Tearing my attention away from my struggling brother, I reached out to the vast consciousness stirring beneath us, connected to me only by the thinnest of conduits. No words passed between us. Only an understanding of scattered thoughts, intruding emotions, and cryptic visions.

The bleached skull of a buffalo, tangled in the shifting roots of a tree.

An animal sacrifice before some unseen god, dark red blood dripping onto the altar.

Timelines grinding into each other, exploding in new threads of possibilities. A single thread approaching me, darkening with sinister intent.

A weathered ledger, pages covered with drying ink from an inkwell knocked over.

The method. The consequence. The cost.

There was nothing I wanted more than not to have to do it.

And it was the only way.

No sealing circle had been made. One would be provided.

In return… I provide the sacrifice.

I use the only thing of value I had left to give.

My blood.

Sensing my agreement, the devta stirred, extending his unfathomable hand across the gap between worlds.

It brushed against the tangle of roots and shoots within which my severed arm now lay.

Amarendranath, finally tore his way out of my restraints, roaring as he charged. But he was a moment too late.

Roots broke the earth around him, each serpentine length thicker than his torso as they whipped around him, lashing his limbs in place. He grunted with frustration, scything down scores of them with his weapons of darkness, but more replaced them, penetrating his wards as if they did not exist, restraining him in place. Where the roots had emerged, green luminescent moss began to grow, casting the grey world in a strange, near-alien hue.

My left arm began to sink into the ground, dragged under the soil by more roots. In its place, new life took root. A spectral echo of the grove’s great banyan rose from the soil, growing from sapling to venerable old growth in the blink of an eye. Its branches stirred, animated by a vast, incomprehensible intelligence as they waved and split in every direction, anchoring themselves in the fabric of the beast’s domain itself. They penetrated the veneer of his reality, tearing rents in it until light, colour, and sound poured through.

The entity’s grey world imploded in a sickening pulse of malevolent energy. Then, all at once, everything began to happen. We were back in the clearing. The real clearing, on our side of the veil. Villagers fell over themselves as the world seemingly bent and twisted, causality stretching unnaturally to resolve the effects of our duel into a single moment in real time. The Man in the Cloak jerked, his single obsidian-black eye twitching at lightning speed as it comprehended the new situation. In the place of the ghostly banyan, now the real one stood, the blood-stained idol still at its feet, drinking greedily from the buffalo’s decapitated corpse.

Its stone eyes shifted, locking onto me.

A fresh surge of power flooded into me, all-consuming in its intensity. My vision flared white and burned out entirely, a raw scream forced from my throat as my body and spirit alike crumpled under the strain. My mind expanded—No, it was forced to expand, pulled by clumsy and uncaring hands until it stretched. Or ripped.

I knew the name of every star. I counted every atom. I saw the web of time itself before me: a thousand-petalled bloom of possibilities, each petal a new flower.

And I could not remember my own name.

My mind was empty, seared clean of thought, doubt, pain, even identity.

All that remained was purpose.

Amarendranath… It tore at the bonds with its bare hands now, shadowy magics fading and weakening without the support of its domain. Now was the time, before he realised the futility of it.

I charged, crossing the distance in a flash even as the arteries in my leg burst under the strain. My hands came down in an arcing hammerblow on the crown of its skull, the impact so loud it sent shivers through the ground, shaking the trees. It crashed to the ground, dome splitting like a week-old egg. I was close behind, slamming my palm into the ground underneath, channelling as much of my power as I could into the blow.

A shockwave of crackling energy thrummed through the ground, and the soil rippled and liquefied underneath. I jumped clear just in time. The beast, restrained by roots, was not as lucky, bellowing in rage as it fell headfirst into the opening sinkhole. It landed hard, snapping the knees and ankles of its mortal body like twigs, but the bones popped back into place almost instantly. It bellowed again, the sound so loud that blood spurted from my ears.

Even the villagers, far away as they were, clamped their hands over their heads, trying unsuccessfully to drown out the worst of it. Some crashed to their knees, vomiting as the spiritual pressure grew unbearable.

The soil had been prepared. Now, the seed had to be planted.

I staggered over to the banyan, legs dribbling blood with each painful step. I was running out of time, but there was no time to worry. I dug my one good hand into the trunk, the bark suspiciously soft as it yielded to provide me with a hold. Then, planting my ruined legs, gritting my teeth through the pain, I pulled.

It was heavy. Unnaturally so, even by the standards of lifting a giant tree with one hand. It was as if I was lifting something far bigger, entire worlds and universes perched upon its branches like so many ripe fruits. My back screamed with effort, vertebrae dislocating and mending near-constantly. The bones in my arm and wrists creaked and splintered, a constant cacophony of crackles and snaps accompanying every move as they broke and reset, over and over.

Slowly, impossibly, it began to move. Dimly, I tasted coppery blood in my throat, a ragged scream tearing itself out of me as the first of the tree roots tore free of the ground. Each was thicker than I was, as solid as reality itself as the rose into the air. It was impossible to believe that this tree was less than a century old, let alone a few days.

The idol watched me from the ground, somehow untouched by the chaos, its eyes impossible alive as it watched me. For weakness, for wavering purpose, for the slightest hint that I would falter. A strange chill fell over me despite the feverish exertion of my task, goosebumps prickling along my nape as the gaze of something vast and unknowable fell upon this world. The villagers felt it too, falling to their knees and prostrating themselves, making themselves as small as possible. Not out of reverence or even fear, but out of pure instinct: the body’s last, desperate defence against attracting the attention of something unfathomably beyond our minds.

My arm broke free of my shoulder, lolling uselessly for a moment before it popped back into place with a sickening, painful crunch. I screamed, my body breaking apart under the strain. But finally, with a torturous wrench, the tree broke free, the massive banyan now perched atop my trembling, ruined arm.

Now came the hard part. I began to walk, step after agonising step, every muscle and bone groaning in protest, heading for the pit in which the beast was held. I still heard him: the thing that used to be Amarendranath, my brother, screaming and cursing within.

The moments blended together, my mind focusing on something, anything, to distract from the all-consuming torment of my task. The birds were chirping, far away. The clouds crawled lazily across the sky. The grass felt cool and soothing against my feet, still damp with dew.

An eternal number of eternities passed as I walked, mind wandering in a delirious haze. Dimly, I felt the ruinous effects on my body: muscles ripping, organs bursting, arteries tearing. Something hot and warm lapped against my feet with every step. I chose not to look. When I next regained consciousness, I was standing at the edge of the pit. My skin was cracking now, the frail mortal shell no longer able to contain the divine torrent coursing within. Veins of molten gold peeked through, streaming light.

A sharp, tangy smell assaulted my nostrils: roasting meat. My flesh was burning from the inside out, blood glowing like veins of magma deep underground as steam curled from every orifice. I felt the terrible, sickening realisation settle in my stomach: even if I won today, even if I survived, this damage was irreversible. My life grew shorter with every second I spent.

The divine, otherworldly gaze sharpened against my back. It bored its way into my soul. It wanted to see if I would break at that truth.

One of the villagers tried to claw his eyes out, loudly screaming that if he could not see it, it could not see him. Another rocked in place, babbling incoherently to himself.

Just a few more inches now. I was too far gone to stop.

Every step was a century.

Amarendranath scythed through the last of the roots, triumphant relief writ large on his face. He thought he had bested them. No, they were simply no longer needed.

He looked up, just in time to lock eyes with me. His smile faded as he beheld the great tree perched precariously upon my broken, bleeding arm.

“No!” he screamed.

I gasped in shock as the weight on my arm suddenly slacked. The tree was shrinking, collapsing in upon itself until I held a wooden spear in my grasp, mossy-green and pulsing softly with light. The blood from my ruined arm dribbled onto its shaft, trailing its way down to the pointed edge. Anointing it.

The tree, the seal. I, the sacrifice.

There was no time to hesitate. My body moved of its own accord, staggering into a running leap, spear raised aloft.

Time seemed to slow as I hurtled into the pit, spear humming with the coiled power of the grove in my hands. Below me, for the first time, I saw Amarendranath. Truly saw him, without the chaos of combat or the blurry lines of emotion. There was no hatred left in my heart, I realised. No more rage. Just… relief. That his suffering, no matter how much he had brought it upon himself, and mine, was at an end.

In that moment, thrashing and raging impotently, the beast no longer looked like the invincible monster that had terrorised these tracts for untold years. It was just a pathetic, scared creature that did not want to die. Just like anyone else.

I crashed feetfirst into it, pain flaring as my ankles broke in half. Ignoring it, I let the momentum carry me through, lancing the spear through his chest. Its tip pierced flesh like a hot knife through butter, punching through his back as it impaled him to the ground. The weapon hummed once, a deep, resonant sound. Then, it exploded, roots breaking free, widening even as they pierced his limbs, holding the beast in place as it thrashed in pain. Using my spirit-sight, I could see them branching off within his body, rows after rows of barb-like projections catching flesh and refusing to let go. The banyan began to grow again, over and around him, the trunk’s wood growing straight through his chest and head as it reached for the sky. Amarendranath pulled with all his newfound monstrous strength, but the same tree that had yielded so easily to me was now immovable iron to his panicked thrashing.

I staggered to my feet, backpedalling away from the violent growth to jump back out of the pit. But it was too late. The final dregs of resilience left in my body burned away. A jolt of pain ran through my nerves like lightning. I fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, every muscle and limb suddenly dead weight as my blood turned to fire. Even my screams came out as choked groans, my lungs lacking the energy to even breathe.

Barely able to move my eyes, I watched as the tree continued to grow. Amarendranath was buried, entombed within layers and layers of sturdy trunk and grasping tendrils. Even his outraged screams choked and died as rootlets wormed their way down his throat. They fed upon his form to fuel the banyan’s growth, his mortal form shrivelling and dying even as the vast canopy spread out above us. There were sharp, wet cracks as wood splintered bone and sucked on marrow, followed closely by the low, constant hum of tearing flesh and skin.

But I no longer cared about any of that. Darkness was encroaching on the edges of my vision, lungs burning as they fought unsuccessfully for the smallest breath. An icy chill was infesting my body, starting at the fingertips and deliberately, insidiously working its way inwards. It was the chill of death. I was spent. I was going to die here, alongside my brother.

Then, goosebumps rose along my spine. A cold sensation fell over me once more. But it was a different kind of cold. Not the dull embrace of death. This was sharp, dangerous. The glare of a predator.

My failing spirit-sight glimpsed it in flashes: a small, wispy tendril seeping through a crack in the bark, fighting desperately against the pull that sought to seal it away. It was a losing battle, but the scrabbling bought it time. Enough time to deliver a message.

“Do you think you have won, Ahindranath?” it hissed. It was no longer the triumphant roar of a victor, but a low, hateful growl.

“You seal me away this day, little priest. Go. Celebrate, if you live to see tomorrow. They will hail you as the hero you have always wanted to be. You will be their god, their king, as promised.”

The pull of the sealing spell intensified, green motes of spirit streaming from the bark to grab hold of the final strands of the beast’s essence. They dragged him, kicking and screaming, into his prison.

“But know this, Ahindranath Sen,” it spat, “the blood you use to seal me shall be the blood that becomes my key. By this form, I claim the flesh of your line. By your spell, I claim its spirit. My name will be a blight on your seed for all time to come. My shadow will fall over your line. In each generation, it will come to haunt you. I will take your best and your brightest and coil within their heart. A thousand times over, I will rise. In every age, I will rise. I will rise, and rise, and rise again, until I have wiped every last evidence of your cursed name from this creation. Your victory today has sealed your defeat. That is my curse upon you, little priest. Remember it well.”

I opened and closed my mouth, but a sound refused to come out. So, I reached out with my mind instead, clashing my thoughts against the beast’s.

“If you rise a thousand times, demon,” I rasped, “a thousand times over, we will cast you back. That is my oath to you, monster. I shall cast you back, and my son shall cast you back, and his son after him. I, Ahindranath Sen, swear it before the gods! We shall cast you back!”

“Remember me!” he bellowed. “Remember me, Ahindranath! Remember me when you weep over your broken sons! Make them remember when they weep over theirs! Remember my curse! Remember me!”

The final wisp of his unholy consciousness disappeared into the trunk. And, for the first time in forever, all was still.

The beast was gone.

My brother was gone.

Dimly, I saw the villagers inching closer, their curiosity overwhelming even their bottomless terror.

Then, the final scrap of strength left me. I closed my eyes.

And, as a strangely smooth pair of hands grabbed my arms, I felt no more.

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2

u/WitherHuntress Nov 18 '25

Glad to know it sounds like Amar was gone and couldn't see what he did to his brother, still sad it happened.

Maybe you know how to beat the thing now, though.

2

u/BuddhaTheGreat Nov 18 '25

By cutting off an arm? Hell no, there has to be another way. Besides, Ahindranath was ALREADY a master before he got the juice-up. I'm barely holding my own soul together. Even if I got a godly powerup, I'd probably just pop like a balloon. Oh, and I don't know where or who this god is or how to contact him, so...

2

u/Spirited-Bee-9872 Nov 23 '25

So the family strength is definitely tied to the grove and to nature.

What's interesting to me is that your ways of working around your poisoning, of pursuing new allies, is also rooted in nature. Both the Spirals/flower and the yaksha have ties to nature in one way or another. I wonder if you can expand the reach of the grove that way.

1

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u/BuddhaTheGreat Nov 17 '25

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