Vikram glanced at the letter in his hand, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he began to walk out of the room, each step echoing with a strange intensity that Power and Vinash both sensed deep within their cores.
Chandra frowned, sensing something was off.
"Hey, Vikram… where are you going?" he called out.
Vikram didn't respond.
Chandra stood still, watching him, then instinctively reached out and grabbed Vikram's shoulder. Vikram turned slightly, his eyes burning with a shallow fury, the anger evident on his face. Without a word, he brushed Chandra's hand away and moved to leave.
But Chandra caught his arm again—this time with a tighter grip, his voice firm and filled with concern.
"Don't do anything stupid… let's call the police instead."
Vikram paused, the words reaching him. For a moment, time seemed to still.
Then, without warning, Vikram struck Chandra across the face.
Chandra stumbled back, falling to the ground as Power and Vinash watched the scene unfold in stunned silence.
Vikram descended the stairs, each step slow and deliberate, as if bracing for the inevitable. At the bottom, Anita's father stood waiting—gripping a shotgun in his hands, rage carved into every line of his face.
"You'll regret ever setting foot in my house," he growled.
Without warning, he pulled the trigger.
Vikram moved like a shadow—his hand deflecting the weapon just in time. The blast rang out through the hall, shattering the tense silence.
Hearing the gunfire, Chandra and Vinash came running, panic etched across their faces. As they reached the bottom, they froze at the sight—Vikram stood holding the broken remains of the shotgun, while Anita's father lay crumpled on the floor. His head and face were soaked in blood, his body limp and twitching.
Vikram raised a foot to stomp his face in—but before it landed, Chandra lunged from behind and tackled him. The two crashed to the ground in a brutal scuffle.
"What difference does it make?" Vikram spat, voice shaking with rage. "Dead or alive—it's all the same."
He stood up, seething, and grabbed Chandra by the collar, yanking him off the ground with one hand. Chandra, catching his breath, stared into Vikram's eyes and asked hoarsely, "Do you really want to end up in prison for this?"
Vikram's voice turned cold.
"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm tired of watching everyone die. If evil has the right to kill, then why don't we have the right to kill evil?"
With that, he shoved Chandra hard against the floor.
Chandra's body went limp—unconscious.
Vikram turned around, but now Power stood between him and Anita's father, blocking his path.
"Stop it. Just stop," she said firmly, her voice trembling not with fear—but with pain.
Vikram's reply came sharp.
"Did the fishermen stop when their crew was butchered? Why should I?"
Power looked straight into his eyes. Her voice lowered, but her words cut deep.
"If you kill now—you'll lose your humanity. There's a difference between hunting to survive and hunting for sport."
She took a step closer.
"Let's go home. It's evening already. And… it's time."
Vikram's eyes narrowed.
"Time for what?"
She looked past him, her expression grave.
"For the Feathered Nightmare."
The moment Vikram heard the name Feathered Nightmare, a silence fell over him. He stood still, thoughts flooding his mind. In the last six days… how many had this nightmare claimed? And now—tonight—it was his turn.
Everything he had done to avoid that fate raced through his mind. He looked once—briefly—at Power, Vinash, and the unconscious Chandra, then let out a slow exhale.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and dialed Officer Samradh.
On the other side of the city, Samradh's phone vibrated on the desk. Seeing Vikram's name glowing on the screen, he immediately answered.
"Hello, Vikram. Don't worry. I'll stay at your house tonight myself—for your protection."
Vikram replied with a simple, "Hm. Thank you… but that's not why I called."
Samradh straightened in his chair, suddenly more alert. As Vikram explained everything over the call, Samradh's expression hardened.
"You all need to leave that place immediately," Samradh said, voice low and serious. "I'll be there with officers as soon as possible."
Without another word, Vikram and Power left, Vikram took Chandra on his back as they walked. On the other end, Samradh grabbed his coat and headed out with his team.
A while later, back at the house, Anita's father stood up with trembling hands. Barely able to form words, he picked up the phone and dialed number.
"H-Hello… iPro Services?"
Chandra on Vikram's back vinash and power besides vikram walking on the road .
" i need to apologize once he wakes up," Vikram muttered, eyes fixed forward. "I never meant for things to go that far."
Power snapped, her voice sharp, "you will apologize. And if you doesn't, I'll make you fall at his feet and beg for forgiveness."
Vikram let out a breath, half-heartedly murmuring, "Yes, yes. Understood. Okay."
Then he turned to Vinash.
"Do you know his address?"
Vinash shook his head. "No. He only came for the entrance exam. Even the teachers don't know much about him."
Power interjected, brushing it aside. "Forget it. Let's just take him home. We need to get there quickly."
Vikram nodded in agreement.
Vinash, with a hesitant voice, asked, "V-Vikram… can I help you with anything?"
Vikram looked at him and offered a soft, reassuring smile.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine."
And with that, he walked off. Vinash, Power, and Chandra—still uncousuocis on Vikram's back . Vinash clenched his fists and turned away, heading down the west road.
---
By the time Vikram reached home, it was already 7 PM. As he approached, he noticed police officers stationed outside his house, alert and silent.
He stood before the door, hesitating only briefly before stepping inside. Power had already entered his mind.
Inside, Ansh stood near the entrance, his arms crossed.
"You're late… It's dangerous out there," Ansh said firmly.
Vikram glanced at him. Ansh's eyes were wary, cautious.
"Who's on your back?" he asked.
Vikram replied simply, "A friend. He fainted."
Ansh raised an eyebrow. "And you brought him here? Even knowing the danger?"
Vikram began to walk past, ascending the stairs. His voice was low but steady.
"I know."
---
It was midnight.
Chandra now lay on Vikram's bed, unconscious but stable. Outside, more than thirty police officers stood on high alert. In the prayer room, Vikram's grandmother quietly performed puja, with Ansh standing beside her like a silent guardian.
In the hall, Anu, Samradh, and Vikram sat together—uneasy, yet calm.
Then, suddenly, silence fell over everything.
Samradh reached for the radio.
"Hello? Is anyone out there? Please respond."
No reply.
Anu instinctively grabbed Vikram's hand and moved closer to him. Ansh, already tense, drew his gun.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang—sharp and unnatural in the quiet.
Samradh and Ansh rushed from their rooms, their eyes locked on the door. Vikram began to rise, but Anu pulled him back, shaking her head. "No."
The door creaked open.
Standing there was a figure—eight feet tall, cloaked in black feathers, with massive wings folded behind its back. Its legs were talon-like, like a monstrous bird, and its face bore the sharp, regal features of an eagle… but shadowed, twisted.
A creature not of this world.
"Feathered Nightmare," Samradh whispered, his voice pale.
The figure tilted its head,
"Happy Birthday, Vikram," it said.