The night settled like a shroud of silence, as Mihir had anticipated. He stood at the border of the Blue Forest, accompanied by five fairies: Thunder, Mystic, Fear, Mischief, and Flame, alongside his brother, Meer.
The air hung heavy, suffused with a chilling quietude, where even the softest breaths resonated like eerie whispers. The moon, veiled by looming clouds, rumbled with distant thunders.
Meer took the initiative. "So, how are we going to start?"
Mihir, his gaze fixed on the horizon, responded, "Mystic fairy, you and the others will watch over Pine Square, the other half of Gray Town. I cannot go there; people would recognize me." The fairies nodded in agreement, understanding the necessity for discretion.
Meer, however, broke the heavy silence, offering a suggestion that weighed heavily on Mihir's heart. "I think I should go with all of you."
"No Meer we will see there you should stay with Mihir we will call you if we need anything" And in moments they all flew in the dark sky.
Mihir turned to look at his brother, seeking some semblance of connection or acknowledgment. Yet, Meer remained impassive, his indifference slicing through Mihir's hopes. He had longed for a bond with his brother, but Meer's stoic disregard shattered those dreams.
As Meer turned away, Mihir felt the rejection like a fresh wound. He leaned against a nearby tree, his emotions swelling to the surface, and the pain of abandonment surged within him. It was an ache he had carried since the day he left, and it intensified with each passing moment.
The forest bore witness to his turmoil, leaves cascading like tears from the trees, and an eerie fog encroaching upon their surroundings. Regret, like a heavy shroud, clung to Mihir's chest, a constant reminder of his decision to leave.
Finally, he gathered the courage to speak to his brother, despite the gaping chasm that seemed to divide them. "How's Grandma?"
Meer's response was curt, his gaze fixed on his fingers as they toyed with an unseen puzzle in the sky. "Fine. She misses you. Maybe a visit will do."
Mihir's voice trembled as he confessed, "I miss you all too," his lower lip bearing the bite of suppressed emotions.
But Meer's next words struck him like a blow. The anger in his tone was palpable as he accused, "Maybe it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't chosen to leave us for your 'filthy' pursuits."
Mihir stared at his brother in disbelief. "It's not 'filthy' to me. My identity isn't 'filthy' to me, unlike yours."
Meer's muttered response stung like a scornful dagger, "Like I care."
Mihir's fist clenched involuntarily, a surge of anger and frustration welling up inside him. But he knew better than to let it explode. Meer, always short-tempered, reckless, and stubborn, had a knack for pushing his buttons, especially when things didn't align with his desires.
Taking a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves, Mihir composed himself. He looked squarely at his brother and said with an air of finality, "I thought you would understand, but as always, you choose to be an immature brat. Fine, I don't want to talk to you either. But don't you dare cross your limits."
The conversation left them in an uncomfortable silence, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging heavily in the air.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the stillness—a cry for help. Mihir and Meer exchanged a glance, and without hesitation, they sprinted toward the source of the distress, where a chorus of desperate voices echoed through the night.
The masked thief stood perched on the terrace of a cobbled stone house, her presence ominous in the dead silence of the night. Her flute, an eerie accompaniment, played hauntingly, sending shivers down the spines of those who dared to listen. The moon, concealed behind thick clouds, refused to bear witness to the impending chaos.
Meer, his determination unwavering, spoke out, "You can't harm anyone as long as I'm here." With a swift motion, he gripped his axe and lunged toward the thief, his flying ability carrying him with startling speed.
His axe swung through the air with precision, but the thief, as if possessed by shadows, vanished before the blade could connect. Meer, taken aback, searched the foggy surroundings for any trace of her. She appeared on another terrace, a twisted grin beneath her mask.
"Do you truly believe one can harm me? No one can touch me unless I allow it," she declared, her voice dripping with arrogance. Her eyes, hidden behind the mask, seemed to twinkle with malevolent delight.
Meer moved to approach her once more, but the thief's transformation stunned everyone. Her legs elongated into a serpentine tail, shimmering in an unsettling violet hue. Gasps of astonishment escaped the onlookers, including Mihir and the fairies.
The thief's serpentine body coiled with graceful agility, and before anyone could react, she lunged, her jaws snapping. Fear fairy's magic was swift, a blue ray of energy encasing the thief's head, causing her to scream in agony. Her body convulsed, and she clutched her head, a helpless victim of her own power.
Tears streamed down the thief's face as her cries filled the air. Fear fairy's magic was working, striking fear deep into the thief's heart, rendering her powerless. Mihir watched with a mix of horror and sympathy, seeing the torment in the thief's eyes.
Mischief and Mystic fairies seized the opportunity, creating a magical prison with iridescent threads that wound around the thief, constricting her movements. She knelt, surrounded by the ethereal cage, her breathing heavy, her defiance crumbling.
Mihir, his voice laden with anger and frustration, couldn't help but ask, "Who are you, and why did you intend to harm these people?" The thief's response remained elusive, shrouded in her own enigmatic motives.
Meer stepped forward, his intention clear. He reached toward the masked thief, his fingers poised to reveal her identity, but as his hand drew near, her lower body transformed again into a serpent's tail. The shock that rippled through the group was palpable.
The thief, now more formidable than ever, reappeared on a different terrace, her eyes locking onto the captivated crowd below. Her message was clear: she was in control, and no one could stop her. All the fairies, along with the twin brothers, made a desperate attempt to confront her, but her serpentine tail lashed out with deadly precision, knocking them away effortlessly.
A gust of frigid air surged from her, and the fairies' legs froze solid, rendering them immobile and vulnerable.
She grabbed a man with his hairs , Her grip unrelenting, his desperate pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears as he was mercilessly dragged to a nearby wall. His fate seemed sealed by the masked thief's sinister intentions, and a palpable sense of dread settled over the crowd.
Then, as if on cue, the haunting melody of the flute began anew, filling the night with an eerie, otherworldly tune. The moon, now fully concealed behind thick clouds, added an ominous backdrop to the unfolding scene. Thunder roared in accompaniment to the flute's macabre song, intensifying the sense of impending doom.
The thief sat on the terrace, her serpentine tail glistening in the dim light, while the man she held captive cried out for help, his pleas echoing through the silent night. It was a tableau of despair, a horrifying spectacle that etched itself into the memories of all who bore witness.
Desperation clawed at Mihir as he watched the masked thief torment the helpless man. He couldn't bear the thought of witnessing another tragedy, another life lost. Tears welled up in his eyes as the weight of his helplessness settled heavily on his shoulders. His voice cracked with anguish as he pleaded, "Please, leave him. Let him go, please." The desperation in his tone was agonizing, knowing that he might not be able to save the man.
But the thief showed no mercy. Instead, she tightened her grip on the man's hair, causing him to cry out in even greater agony. Blood began to flow from the pores of his scalp, a grim testament to the brutality of the situation. On the street below, the horrified onlookers could only watch in stunned disbelief.
"I will, don't worry," she hissed sadistically as she finally released her hold on the man's hair. Rain began to pour, and in an instant, more spiky ice formations appeared on the ground around her.
With a sinister twist, she turned the man's face towards her and uttered chilling words, "Do not worry; this is the fruit of your actions. They will come to you soon. Do not worry." With cruel efficiency, she hurled him onto the razor-sharp ice spikes. The blue ice turned crimson as it absorbed the blood flowing from the wounds.
And then, as swiftly as she had appeared, the masked thief vanished into thin air, leaving behind a scene of horror and despair. The night had taken a gruesome turn, and the memories of this fateful encounter would haunt the twin brothers and all who had witnessed it for a long time to come.