28.1: The Backup Plan

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Pruthvi

"God, the smell."

Pruthvi moved slowly through the darkness, the smell of stale sweat and charcoal smoke permeated the thick air. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes streaming and his breath reeked of mold. He looked aside at Tyrell who offered to show further directions into the abandoned deepest darkest prison of the Sharad palace.

Pruthvi remembered the events that had happened in the place as if it were yesterday. It was where it all had started for him. Not too fancy to cherish or anything to be proud of, but it certainly reignited a few memories from the past.

For the very time, he had used his Formation in the real world. How he had to tear the surface and push the ground apart to escape from his captivity, the room where the fake doctor had researched about the Samagraha and gave him a new life, new friends, and new challenges apart from filling a sibling-shaped void. The gaping hole that he created to escape was still there. The godly bowl was yet on the floor, perched at the ragged corner of the wooden shelf, only this time deprived of bananas.

"Hayden had to lock him up in the same cell," Tyrell commented as they turned left, Pruthvi's mind swirling with a snowstorm of thoughts as they walked towards it.

Gentle moaning and weeping sounds came from the adjacent cells. The inmates, Shashi's men who Nazira thrashed to near death, were now remand prisoners awaiting sentencing from the King of Rawat. As they walked further the gentle sounds turned into rasping growls and angry snarls, reverberating off the walls of the narrow lane. Tyrell and Pruthvi gave each other a sideways glance and picked up speed, running through the dusky greyish atmosphere of the prison with a sense of a battle around them.

They stopped dead at the spot, noticing. Towards the end of the lane, hounds had gathered, barking, growling, and ready to attack the lonely man standing in the center of the area. He stumbled and totted in the place, and his stance as though he was in the middle of giving some sort of vain explanation. As Tyrell and Pruthvi went nearer, one of the hounds with long flappy ears, sprang up in the air. It was bestial than a regular hound but undeniably fast, its scary drooling mouth wide open and ready to chomp on the man's arm.

Pruthvi commanded his stone. A huge chunk of ground got detached and rose in the direction of the hound. It crashed with the animal, hurling it away from the man. The hound stood up whimpering when Tyrell quickly zapped a few lines of electricity making the hound fall completely down on the floor. It now stayed still, probably lifeless.

The rest of the hounds then backed up, whimpering, tails curled, but had their eyes stuck on the newly arrived Samagraha. Pruthvi then created a dozen cages and locked the hounds in. Apparently, they were still restless, occasionally growling and barking and making choking sounds. There was no particular loyalty to their enforced leader and had been confronting him as if he were a nobody. A couple of them twitched awkwardly, seemingly on the verge of slicing themselves open through the bars of the cage. They exerted a horrifying fascination around which Pruthvi could not wrap his mind.

"Good morning," said Tyrell, sounding a bit irritated. His face, colored and brimming with rakish quality, was detailed only by the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He stood against the black patch on the wall that seemed fresh as though the fight between his friends and that late imposter had broken out only a day before.

Shourya Pradhan, stood upright in an instant, huffing and puffing after the mini-commotion. His entire body quivered with every breath. "Why are you here? What do you want?" he asked, in a deep gruffly voice.

"We get to ask questions first," Pruthvi said. "What is all this? Were you trying to escape?"

Shourya did not reply. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh. He bent his head down and flexed his hands, his face contorting with either pain or worry.

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