So much depends on this light, he thought, his grip tightening around the kalasha.


    If only I could shield him from what’s coming, Aryaman thought, his chest tightening with a mix of protectiveness and dread. But there’s no running from it—not for any of us.


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    If there are rogue pretas, Aryaman thought, could there be a ley line intersection nearby?


    The pretas hissed, their guttural snarls echoing through the trees as their dark forms twisted and flickered, darting in and out of the shadows. They slithered closer, encircling Aryaman and Sanjaya like a pack of wolves.