The sky was broken.
Once a peaceful blue, it was now a strange mix of purple and red, like the colors of a bruise. Shubhu stood on the ruins of what used to be a city. Towers were destroyed, streets were cracked, and strange vines grew everywhere. This wasn't Earth anymore, and it wasn't Satal either—it was something in between, a distorted reflection of both worlds forced together in an unnatural union.
And it was his fault.
That thought wouldn't leave him. His experiment had caused the disaster—the merging of two planets, Earth and Satal—and millions of lives were lost. He had tried to tap into the fundamental forces of time and space, but he had failed to control them. The gods had cursed him for it, and those who survived—if they even knew he was responsible—probably hated him. He had destroyed both worlds. But for what?
Shubhu walked slowly, his boots crunching over broken stones. He had lost track of time. Days and nights blurred together. The only thing that kept him moving was a strange pull inside him, like a thread tugging at his soul, urging him to go somewhere—but he didn't know where.
The wind blew through the empty streets, carrying an unusual chill. The world felt aware of him, as though it were watching. Every step he took echoed in the silence, amplifying his loneliness.
Then he saw them.
At first, they were just flickers in the corner of his eye. When he turned, they were clearer—spirits, glowing softly against the ruins. They hovered just above the ground, their forms vague and flickering, like candle flames in the wind.
Shubhu froze. Were they real? Or was his mind playing tricks on him after everything that had happened? But as he stared, the spirits moved closer, their light growing stronger.
One of them drifted in front of him, stopping just out of reach. He could feel its presence—gentle, warm, and completely unlike the cold, broken world around him. The spirit didn't speak with words, but Shubhu felt something stir inside him, a sense of… connection.
We are here.
The thought wasn't his own, but it was clear and soft. His heart raced, filled with confusion and something else—a strange familiarity. These beings felt connected to him, as though they were waiting for him.
"Who are you?" Shubhu whispered, his voice hoarse.
The spirit didn't answer with words. Its light pulsed in time with Shubhu's heartbeat. The others hovered nearby, watching him, waiting for something.
Were these spirits born from the disaster? Had the merging of Earth and Satal created them, just as it had created this broken world? Why were they looking at him?
You are not alone.
The thought hit him hard. Not alone? Shubhu almost laughed. He had never felt more alone in his life. The gods had abandoned him, and if any survivors remained, they would hate him. How could he not be alone?
But the spirits drifted closer, their light soft and comforting. They surrounded him, their presence bringing a small sense of peace. It wasn't much, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks.
"Why… why are you here?" Shubhu asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The spirit closest to him floated nearer, its form shifting with the light. It didn't look human, but there was something familiar in its presence.
We are born from the worlds. Like you.
Shubhu frowned. Like him? He wasn't some spirit made of light. He was just a man—a scientist who had played with forces he didn't fully understand, and now he was paying the price. But deep down, something in him knew it wasn't that simple. His experiment had unlocked more than he could grasp. The merging of Earth and Satal wasn't an accident—it was part of something larger, something tied to him.
The spirits seemed to sense his confusion. Their light flickered gently, like they were waiting for him to understand. They didn't judge him. They didn't hate him.
"You… you don't hate me?" Shubhu asked, his voice trembling.
The spirit pulsed again, its light washing over his face in gentle warmth. No. We are with you.
Something inside Shubhu cracked. He sank to his knees, overwhelmed by everything—the destruction, the guilt, the loneliness. The spirits hovered around him, their light a quiet comfort in the cold, broken world.
For the first time since the disaster, Shubhu felt a tiny spark of hope. Fragile, but real. These spirits, born from the same chaos that had destroyed everything, didn't hate him. They didn't fear him.
They were with him.
-