After finishing their baths, cleansing themselves from the intensity of practice, the Devangsh dressed in their school uniforms. They gathered for their morning meal, savouring the freshly made, warm food. Aai, ever-dedicated, always wake up early to prepare everything—cooking their meal and even packing their tiffins with care. She was a hardworking woman, always tending to the Devangsh with motherly love.
Once ready, they stepped in the Prangan, ready to leave for school—Only to be greeted with an unexpected sight.
Three black XUVs were parked inside the ashram's compound. Standing beside them was Satya, accompanied by two unfamiliar men. Both were tall and strongly build, clad entirely in black. They wore bulletproof vest loaded with extra rifle magazines. They also wore special addition army boots. Each of them gripping an AR rifle in their hands. Their faces were concealed behind black half masks, giving them a imposing presence.
They are bodyguards. But whose?
Seeing them Manash and his friends frowned. Why was Satya here? And why did he bring armed guards? The two men barely acknowledged them, their cold, calculating eyes betraying no emotion—focused only on their duty as if nothing else mattered.
"Hey… why do you think they're here?" Suraj muttered, scanning the backgrounds from head to toe. While confused by their presence, he couldn't help but admire their gear and disciplined don't give a damn like stand.
"I don't know," Manash said, shaking his slightly in denial.
"Some important person might have come to visit Guru-dev or the temple." Bikram guessed, glancing at the XUVs and the armed men.
Before they could speculate any further, Satya stepped forward them, dressed as impeccably as before in his black suit, a white shirt beneath the suit and a black tie was hanging from his neck.
Arunika's eyes narrowed in recognition. "Hey… it's Satya, right?"
Suraj nodded, "Yeah, its him." His brows furrowed as a memory surfaced.
"Wait…" Suraj turned to Arunika. "Don't you remember? He told us last night that someone wanted to meet us."
As Satya get closed to them, he joined his both hands together and gave a respectful bow.
"Pranam."
Manash and the other mirrored his gesture, their voice echoed in unison.
"Pranam."
With a professional yet respectful tone, Satya spoke. "Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Satya, from 'Sector 108'."
His gaze swept over them before he continued.
"And if you please follow me—there is someone who wishes to have an audience with you."
Manash and the others exchanged glances. They nodded, but their minds raced. Who was waiting for them? And why so eager to meet them?
Manash and the others followed Satya back to the ashram's Guest room. As they entered, their eyes fell upon Lakshmana-Acharya, seated with an air of quiet authority in a wooden chair. Beside him stood Kaka, his presence study as ever. Opposite them, on a wooden sofa, sat a man whose appearance exuded wealth and status. His silk red kurta, embroidered with golden thread, while his dhoti white but woven from same luxurious fabric, bore silver lining along the edges. Even his footwear—a pair of mojari, the elegant, curved toe shoes once favoured by royalty—added an unmistakable touch of nobility.
By his side stood two imposing bodyguards, their postures rigid, their physiques towering and formidable. Their eyes flicked toward Manash and his companions the moment they entered, their expressions unreadable, yet their vigilance palpable.
Then, the man himself turned, he appeared to be in his mid-forties. The moment his gaze landed on Manash, his gaze softened. Admiration and something deeper—reverence, perhaps—flashed across his eyes. with an urgency that betrayed his decorum, he rose to his feet, pressed his palms together, and bowed his head with unmistakable respect.
"Pranam," he greeted, his voice measured and respectful. Despite his delicate and expensive attire, he bore himself with the humility of a man who knew the significance of those before him.
Manash and his companions exchanged glances before mirroring the gesture.
"Pranam," they replied in unison.
Then Satya stepped forward, and introduced the man, "This is Bhaskar Barma, he is the head of the Barma family."
"The Barma lineage used to rule this region for generation," he added, his tone laced with touch of reverence. "This ashram and the temple were built by his ancestors."
But before Satya could continue, Bhaskar Barma raised a hand.
"Satya, please," he interjected, his voice firm yet polite. "My family's legacy is not why I am here."
Satya's eyes widened slightly before he lowered his head in apology. "Please, forgive me. That was not my intention."
Bhaskar Barma placed a reassuring hand on Satya's shoulder. "It's alright," he said.
Then he turned his attention back to Manash and the others. "Please, be seated. I have something of great importance to discuss with you."
Manash and his companions nodded and took their seats beside Lakshmana-Acharya.
Bhaskar Barma followed suit, his posture tense, as if the weight of his words was a burden he had carried for long.
Lakshmana-Acharya wasted no time. His gaze locked onto Bhasker Barma's eyes, sharp and discerning. "Speak! What is the reason for your visit."
For a moment, Bhaskar Barma hesitated. His hands clenched, then relaxed, as if battling an internal struggle. Finaly, he began, "I have come with a request… one that is—" he paused, swallowed hard, "—not easy to ask."
A heavy silence settled over the room as all eyes fixated on him.
"There is someone I need you to rescue," he said at last. His gaze, desperate and pleading, fell upon Manash.
"My daughter. She was been missing for five days," he added.
Manash brows furrowed. Something about this felt… off.
"Why us?" he asked, hie tone edged with suspicion. "Why not go to the police?"
"They cannot help," Satya interjected, his voice grim. He exchanged a glance with Bhaskar Barma before turning back to Manash. "We think the ones responsible are not human."
A heavy tension gripped the air.
Lakshmana-Acharya's Eyes narrowed. "Not human?" His voice was dangerously calm. "What exactly is going on here? How could Bhaskar Barma, the head of the Barma family, have a missing daughter?" His gaze hardened. "To my knowledge, you were never married—nor did you ever adopt a child."
The room fell deathly silent.
Manash and the others turned to Lakshmana-Acharya, then back to Bhaskar Barma, their expressions filled with confusion and suspicion.
"Please, I understand your doubts, but…." Satya began, trying to ease the tension.
But Bhaskar Barma raised a hand to silence him. His expression was unreadable, but his voice—low, quite—carried the weight of a confession long buried.
"If I want your help, I must tell you everything."
He inhaled deeply before speaking. "I was married… but it was never public." A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. "My wife… she was a Rakt-Pichas."
('Rakt' means blood, and 'Pichas' refers to flesh-eating, night-drawling sprite or demon)
A studded silence filled the room.
Manash and his companion shot to their feet in unison, their eyes wide with shock. "You married a Rakshasa?" Manash voice was laced with disbelief.
"But, why?"
"Manash!" Lakshmana-Acharya's voice cut through the tension like a blead "All of you sit down… now.
"We are the ones who questioned him, so we must listen to what he wishes to say." His tone left no room for argument.
Bowing their heads in unison they murmured, "Forgive us, Guru-dev."
Then, they sat, albeit with lingering disbelief.
Lakshmana-Acharya turned to Bhaskar Barma, his expression unreadable. "Please, continue."
Bhaskar Barma nodded, his voice trembled as he spoke. "We had a daughter. But… one month after her birth…"
He hesitated. The weight of the memory pressed against him like an unyielding barrier—one he had never wish to cross.
"Her mother died," Bhaskar Barma finally whispered. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, his mind drowning in memory of his loving wife.
A long paused followed before he could find the strength to continue. "No one knew about her. Not even my family. The only ones aware are some higher-ups in 'Sector 108', Satya… and now, those present here."
"Please… forgive us?" Manash murmured, lowering his gaze. His voice sincere.
"We were fools to act this way," he admitted.
"Please… forgive us."
Manash and his companion echoed the word in unison.
Bhaskar Barma's expression remained compose, his tone steady. "It's okay."
Manash and his companion nodded, as their expression sincere.
Then Manash turned to Satya, "So, do you had anything to work with?"
"We don't have any solid leads, but...." Satya hesitated, uncertainty clouding his expression.
"We have a name…," he added, the way he said it send a ripple of unease through his words. His hesitation was palpable.
"It's Raakai" Satya finally spoked the name. But even as he did, the word itself seemed to carry weight—an unspoken warning, a name that should never be uttered aloud.
"Who is Raakai?" Manash frowned.
"We don't know much about him," Satya admitted, but he looked distant, as if something about the man consumed his thoughts like fire.
"The name was sent to us by a IPS officer, who was investigating a trafficking case…"
Satya hesitated again, his lips parted, but the words refused to come.
"But… she went missing after we received her message with the name."
"Didn't you try to find her?" Manash asked.
Satya hesitated to answer, the words catching his throat. The others watched him intently, sensing something far worse was about to unfold.
"Sometimes later, we do find her… but—" Satya's voice faltered. He gritted his teeth, struggling to force the words out.
"We didn't find her as whole."
His words ran a chill through the room.
"What do you mean, by you didn't find her whole?" Manash narrowed his eyes.
"She was been…" Satya paused. He saw the expectation in their face—the demand for the truth. He exhaled shakily.
"She was… in pieces and we found her sold in different nations. As human meat."
The room fell into a stunned, suffocating silence.
Everyone stared at him, their expressions shifting from shock to disbelief. No one spoke a word, or no one even could.
It was as if the very air had turned into stone.
"What about her family?" Lakshmana-Acharya broke the silent. His voice, calm yet commanding, cut through the weight in the room.
As the other remained silent, Satya flinched slightly at the question but forced himself to answer. "They only know her as Missing.
"We… only found her head. And a few other parts of her body. So…" Satya continued, though his voice was weaker now.
Lakshmana-Acharya then turned to Manash, who was still reeling out of his thoughts from what Satya just said. His thoughts spiraled, struggling to process.
"Manash."
Lakshmana-Acharya's firm voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"What do you wish to do?"
Manash blinked, still processing. He looked at Lakshmana-Acharya, dumbfounded.
Why was he asking him what to do?
Until now, no one had ever asked for his judgment. The Devangsh had always followed orders, their paths dictated by their Gurus.
Duty was their devotion to the divine—yet the path they walked was never their choice.
And yet, here he was, being asked to decide.
"Why are you asking me, Guru-dev?" Manash asked, his voice was laced with confusion. His brows furrowed, searching for answer in Lakshmana-Acharya's calm yet piercing gaze.
"Then who else should decide?" Lakshmana-Acharya responded, his tone steady but firm. "I always know, that you looked up to the Rudrangsh." His words settled into Manash's mind, echoing loudly.
"If you wish to stand among them one day, you must learn to make your own choices," Lakshmana-Acharya continued, his gaze didn't waver.
"And I am here to guide, not to decide for you."
Manash gaze dropped, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. His mind wavered—was he truly ready to make a decision?
Then he turned to Bikram. The unwavering resolve in Bikram's eyes was clear, a silent vow of loyalty. No matter what Manash chose, Bikram would follow.
Next, he looked at Suraj, Arunika and Vani. They, too, were watching him, their eyes filled with trust—not hesitation, not doubt. Trust. They believed him.
Manash inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a brief moment. He exhaled slowly, clearing the weight of uncertainty from his mind. When he opened his eyes again, they burned with renewed purpose.
He turned to Bhaskar Barma, his voice unwavering.
"Sir, mark my words—we will rescue you daughter."
His word rang with conviction, each carrying the weight of an unbreakable oath.
Bhaskar Barma let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a relieved smile forming on his face.
Lakshmana-Acharya, too, smiled—though his expression was one of quiet satisfaction. He had always known Manash had what it took. And now, Manash had taken his first step toward proving it.