Black Avatare

53 | LIFE

Shockwaves rippled up Binara's arms, and Chandrahasa buckled under repulsive forces. Demon ichor spurted out—a crimson cascade that drenched her hands and spilled to the ground. It mingled with her own blood, which flowed from the gashes on her forearms. Heat and burning flesh consumed her senses. Everything was red, pungent and sticky. Her swimming eyes stared on while her body convulsed under waves of nausea.

Then Mahasona's cry pierced the night—a rumbling moan that proclaimed defeat.

Binara hyperventilated, reveling in the victory—a fiery jubilation that kept the pain at bay. Mahasona's kneeling bulk fell to the side, clawing at Chandrahasa sticking from his chest. The motion yanked her, but she held on, icy hands clamped on the sword hilt—a mere mongoose clinging to a felled bear.

The thud quaked the ground. Ectoplasm streamed out, and the shockwave flattened vegetation within a ten-meter radius. Then all was still.

Her mind staggered under the enormity of what she had done. I did it. I stabbed Mahasona. The thought cycled in an endless loop, anchoring her to the moment, while anguish over Diyan threatened to crush her. Half of her urged her to get up and look at him, but the other half dreaded the sight. In any case, her body refused to cooperate. Blackness crept in, fringing her vision, while her brain flickered like a faulty light bulb. It was a struggle to breathe.

Right when she realized that Mahasona needed to be sealed, she became aware of movement around her.

There were shouts and sounds of commotion. The screech of a van cut through the fog in her head. Hoarse chanting blended with thunder—protective verses emanating from many throats. A new source of anti-demon energy hummed in the air, steady and bright. The Yakadura were moving in, and they had Alambara ready.

As a burst of warmth coursed through her, Binara gritted her teeth, hands still clenched on the sword hilt. Her whole body throbbed, though it paled in comparison to the agony that blazed at the thought of Diyan. She shifted to a kneeling position, and her frantic eyes now sought him, but it was pandemonium—all she could see was a dizzying blur of people, lights and movement. Diyan's aura was fading—a dim remnant after a supernova.

He's strong. He's not just any demon. Her inner voice chanted it again and again—even as her heart sank down the widening chasm within. She wanted to scream for him to hold on, but her throat was locked. Anger made her grip Chandrahasa even tighter. She channeled the rage into the sword, withstanding the demon aura that still radiated out. Chandrahasa vibrated.

Through the haze, Binara could make out agents drawing protective circles—a blur of synchronized motion. A fire danced in her eyes, though she didn't know whose work it was. The bear demon let out fresh growls, sending tremors up her arms. Demonic flesh disintegrated, issuing copious amounts of ectoplasm. Terrible and acrid, it mingled with ozone, making her gag. Everything spun in a whirlwind of smoke, light and noise.

She didn't know how many minutes passed, but just when she was on the verge of passing out, urgent hands took hold of her. It took her a moment to realize that someone was calling her name.

"Binnie, let go," Piumi's voice called, fraught with emotion. "You did it...We got this now."

Binara didn't budge. "Mahasona..."

"Ginige sealed him! It's over."

The words echoed in her head and galvanized every cell of her body. Her heart pumped enough blood to clear the fog.

She was holding Chandrahasa before a heap of charred remains. Ectoplasm still plumed, dissolving into the wind. As Piumi proceeded to treat her wounds, wrapping bandages, her stare flitted to Alambara, the Drum of the Crab.