CHAPTER 155: SCARS AND PROMISES

The dirt road curved through a scarred valley, where trees still leaned like wounded soldiers and ash clung to leaves like memories that wouldn’t let go.

Zorawar walked quietly, one hand brushing Dren’s back. The Spirit Beast matched his steps without a sound. Beside them, Vyuk scribbled into a worn leather-bound notebook as they moved.

Zorawar glanced over. "You ever seen someone else fuse two beasts?"

Vyuk shook his head. "No. Never in person. Maybe in the archives, but those scrolls were locked behind a librarian who hisses when you touch her shelves."

Zorawar raised an eyebrow. "So... it’s rare?"

"Rare? It’s like... hatching a phoenix in a teacup while singing backwards."

Zorawar blinked.

"Translation," Vyuk said with a grin. "Yes. It’s very rare. And no, I still don’t know how you’re doing it."

There was a pause.

Vyuk looked thoughtful. "It’s not just what you do. It’s when you do it. In panic. In protection. Every fusion so far? Triggered when you’re trying to save someone. Not fight."

Zorawar didn’t reply — but a quiet guilt passed through his eyes.

"What are you writing now?" Zorawar asked, not looking back.

Vyuk didn’t stop moving. "Observations. Fusion behavior. Response patterns. You keep doing things that don’t make sense. I figured I should try to track them."

Zorawar gave a half-smile. "So now I’m your science experiment?"

Vyuk smirked. "No. You’re my chaotic variable with anxiety issues. But lovable. Mostly."

Zorawar shook his head. "You’re lucky I don’t fuse you with a squirrel."

"Already feel like I’ve been fused with sarcasm and a headache, thanks."

Before he could fire back, a loud crash echoed from up ahead — followed by screams. Both boys went still. Dren growled low, tension spiking.

They ran.

As they crested the hill, the scent hit first — acrid, like burning fur and iron.

Then the sound — wood splintering, shouts overlapping, a goat bleating in terror.

Then the sight.

Two corrupted beasts — the size of small wagons — tore through the village. Their bodies pulsed unnaturally, like something inside was trying to burst out. One had bone spikes jutting from its back; the other moved on all fours but with unnatural speed.

Vyuk muttered, "I swear if one of them grows wings, I’m quitting and becoming a baker."

Smoke rolled from behind a ridge as they entered a battered village. About twenty homes scattered the landscape — and chaos ruled them all.

Two corrupted beasts — warped and frothing, with limbs too long and eyes too wide — thrashed through the village. One had already crushed part of a roof.

"Not even breakfast yet," Vyuk muttered. "Why can’t apocalyptic creatures attack after tea?"

One beast lunged toward terrified villagers behind a broken fence.

"DREN, GO!" Zorawar shouted.

Dren shot forward, a blur of midnight-blue. The air around him rippled — Spirit Beasts didn’t growl like animals. They resonated like forces of nature.

He collided with the beast mid-air, jaws locking around its throat as his paws dug into the ground. The earth cracked under the pressure.

The corrupted beast shrieked, clawing wildly, but Dren twisted, slamming it against a boulder.

Zorawar didn’t stop to admire. His eyes were on the girl.

The Spirit Beast leapt forward, colliding with the monster mid-air. The impact sent tremors through the ground.

Zorawar rushed to help — then froze.

A little girl, no more than ten, stood trembling beside two smaller children. Her cheek was bruised, and her doll was falling apart in her arms. But she stood in front of them protectively — ready to face the monster alone.

She looked like Priya.

The breath caught in Zorawar’s throat.

One of the beasts turned toward her.

"NO!" he yelled, sprinting.

His arms pumped, his heart pounded — but the beast was faster.

He reached into his pouch without thinking.

He hesitated — fingers over the pouch.

What if it failed? What if the fusion turned out wrong?

The little girl’s eyes met his. Wide. Scared. Brave.

Just like Priya.

"I won’t let it happen again," he whispered.

Two injured beasts — a rock lizard and a silver-winged sparrow — both slumbered inside.

"I don’t have time for lectures," he muttered, palms pressing together. "Please... help me help her."

Vyuk’s voice rang out from behind:

"Maybe don’t explode the forest this time!"

Zorawar ignored him, focusing all his energy into the memory of Pran — the breath between all things.

Golden light burst between his hands.

The two forms shimmered in golden light — the sparrow’s broken wings and the lizard’s armored hide melting, then realigning.

Feathers turned to metallic scale. Claws fused into crystalline talons. Its wings flared — not soft, but sharp-edged like blades.

The beast opened glowing green eyes... and bowed slightly.

Vyuk, watching from behind a fence, whispered, "Okay. That’s either beautiful or a war crime."

The beasts pulsed, shimmered, and merged.

The shape that emerged was strange but majestic: a silver-winged golem with stone-plated legs, clawed feet, and eyes glowing green.

It looked at Zorawar like a soldier waiting for orders.

"DEFEND HER!"

The guardian beast launched itself forward and slammed into the charging creature. The corrupted thing howled as it was knocked back — defeated.

The girl didn’t move. Just stared at the strange glowing beast... then at Zorawar.

"Thank you," she whispered, hugging her doll.

Zorawar blinked fast. For a moment, she was Priya again.

Then the spell broke.

Vyuk walked up, slightly out of breath.

"Cool new fusion. How long before it tries to eat us?"

A cluster of villagers peeked from behind a damaged hut. One man, soot covering his face, gave Zorawar a shaky thumbs-up.

"Is... is that thing ours now?"

"Technically," Vyuk said, "it’s a temporary summon born of emotional fusion and divine desperation."

"...So yes?"

Vyuk shrugged. "Sure."

The little girl approached, still clutching her doll. She looked up at the guardian beast and patted its metallic paw.

"You’re weird," she said. "But I like you."

Kairav arrived, scanning the battlefield. He saw the fused guardian standing beside the girl and raised a brow.

"You fused... again," he said, voice unreadable.

Zorawar gave a short nod. "I had to. She reminded me of someone I couldn’t save."

Kairav knelt beside the guardian beast, inspecting its design, its flow of energy. Then he sighed like a teacher checking a student’s accidentally brilliant homework.

"You’re either destined... or dangerously lucky."

Zorawar raised an eyebrow. "Which one is worse?"

Kairav didn’t smile. "Both. Equally. Especially if you keep skipping the part where you learn how and just jump straight to ’wing it with glowing hands."

He stood and added seriously, "What you give life to... might outgrow your purpose."

Zorawar didn’t hesitate. "Then I’ll make sure my purpose is worth growing with."

Kairav looked at him. Long. Thoughtful.

"...You’ve been hanging around Vyuk too much. You’ve started talking like a poet who punches things."

That evening, the children gathered around the fused guardian. It stood like a statue beside the newly rebuilt fence, watching the horizon.

An elderly woman with a crooked back came up to Zorawar as he finished planting the totem.

"Boy," she said gently, "you carry grief."

Zorawar glanced at her, surprised.

"I’ve seen it before," she continued. "In fathers who outlived their sons. In girls who lit funeral fires too young."

He didn’t speak.

She placed a wrinkled hand on his arm.

"You didn’t save everyone today. But you saved someone. And sometimes, that’s enough."

Zorawar sat down, carving a totem from mountain oak. The process calmed him.

The youngest child peeked over his shoulder. "What’s that?"

"A reminder," he said. "So this guy knows what he’s here for."

He finished — a carved image of a wolf, a bird, and a small flame.

Zorawar planted it in the ground near the guardian and whispered, "You’re not a monster. You’re a protector. That’s all that matters."

The girl tugged at his sleeve. "Will you come back?"

Zorawar smiled faintly. "I’d love to. But he’s cooler than me."

Vyuk chimed in from behind:

"And quieter. Definitely quieter."

Back in Guhashram, Vyuk sat in the common room with a flickering lantern and his precious notebook.

He wrote quickly, muttering to himself:

Field Log: Fusion Theory & Pranic Behavior – Subject: Zorawar

Day 1

Zorawar fused two minor beasts mid-combat. Not only did it obey commands — it understood context.

Zorawar called it a "guardian."

I call it: mildly terrifying but also kinda cute.

Fusion continues to be emotion-based. Might have to test theory by showing Zorawar a sad puppy.

He tapped his quill, leaned back.

"There’s more to you than you know, Zoru," he said aloud.

"But one day, your creations might start journaling about you. Hope you’re ready."

That Night

Zorawar sat on the ridge under a quiet sky.

Dren slept. Vira — the phoenix bird — glowed faintly above him.

He looked at his carved pendant from the village. He didn’t say much. Just ran a thumb across its edge.

"I couldn’t save Priya," he said softly. "But maybe that girl... maybe she’ll grow up because of me."

He glanced at Dren.

"...And if she ever forgets why she’s safe, that beast will remind her."

Vira landed on his shoulder, warm and bright.

Zorawar smiled — not fully, not yet. But a start.

The scars remained.

But this time, they were carried with purpose... not pain.