The world around Shree Yan was still. But within him, a war raged.
His mind, once sharp and clear, was now clouded by doubt, by whispers that had begun to take root in his consciousness. The realization that there was no escape from the path he had chosen had begun to settle in, like a poison creeping through his veins. The more he tried to push it away, the more it consumed him.
In the distance, he saw a figure—a silhouette against the dying light of the world. It was a familiar face, though one he had not seen in a long time.
Suman.
Her expression was distant, as though she had never known him at all. The air around her was heavy with sorrow, but also with something darker—something that had twisted and warped her essence.
"Suman..." Shree Yan whispered her name, though it sounded foreign even to him.
She did not respond, merely standing there, her eyes hollow.
"You have come to haunt me, then?" Shree Yan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is this my punishment? To be chased by the ghosts of my past?"
Suman's eyes flickered, and for a brief moment, the warmth he had once known in her gaze returned. But it was fleeting, gone in an instant, replaced by a chilling emptiness.
"You think you've achieved everything, Shree Yan," she said softly. "But you are still running from yourself. Your immortality is not a gift. It is a curse."
Shree Yan felt a pang deep within him, a flicker of something that resembled pain. But he quickly suppressed it, pushing it into the farthest corner of his mind.
"I don't need your lessons, Suman," he spat. "I know who I am. I know what I've become. And I accept it."
Her gaze softened, but only for a moment. "And yet, you are still searching. Searching for something to fill the emptiness inside you. You were never meant to walk this path, Shree Yan."
Her words hung in the air, lingering like smoke. And for a moment, Shree Yan felt the weight of them settle over him. But he shook his head.
"No," he said, his voice steady, resolute. "I will walk this path. And nothing will stop me."