The house had grown quiet.
The sounds of the household had gradually faded into silence. Somewhere outside, a dog barked in the distance, followed by the soft rustling of leaves in the night breeze. A small oil lamp near the doorway cast a faint glow across the room.
Puru sat on the edge of the bed, the ancient manuscript resting in his hands.
Its cover was worn, its edges frayed by time. The pages had darkened with age, and the binding looked as though it might fall apart if handled carelessly.
He ran his fingers along the cover.
What did Timmarusu want me to understand from this?
The old man's words returned to him.
Read it. You may understand what responsibility truly means.
Puru had expected a collection of old teachings, perhaps the wisdom of ancient sages or the history of forgotten kingdoms.
He had not expected what he found when he opened the manuscript.
The first page contained a brief introduction written in an old, careful hand.
The Tantras are many, and no two need serve the same purpose. Some are meant to affect a single person, while others require several. Their powers differ, as do the conditions under which they can be performed. Every Tantra has its own requirements and limitations. Without understanding these, one cannot hope to understand the working of a ritual.
Puru read the passage twice.
Tantras.
The word had appeared in the discussions surrounding the disappearances, though no one had been able to explain what was truly happening.
He turned the page.
The next few entries described different practices. Some concerned the concealment of a person's presence. Others dealt with restricting movement or preventing someone from acting freely. Each entry listed its own requirements, followed by a description of the procedure.
Puru read quickly.
He was not interested in learning every ritual in the manuscript. He needed answers, and every minute spent on something unrelated brought him no closer to them.
He studied the requirements first.
If an entry demanded conditions that had nothing to do with the missing villagers, he moved on. If its effects could not explain what he was investigating, he turned another page.
One entry after another passed beneath his eyes.
Some were too complicated. Others required circumstances for which he had no reason to look. A few described powers that might have been frightening in their own right, but offered no useful connection to the disappearances.
Puru did not linger over them.
He continued reading until a particular entry caught his attention.
Vasa Tantra.
His fingers stopped at the edge of the page.
He leaned closer to the lamp and began reading carefully.
Unlike the entries he had skimmed, this one demanded his full attention.
The procedure described a liquid called Cheerani. The intended victim had to consume it without knowing what it was. Once the victim entered a deep sleep, a practitioner who knew Vasa Tantra could guide the victim's movements through chanting.
The person could be made to move under the practitioner's influence without understanding what was happening.
Puru read the passage again, slower this time.
Then he reached the final restriction.
A practitioner could control only one victim at a time.
He sat motionless.
For several moments, the room seemed quieter than before.
An unsuspecting victim. Deep sleep. Movement guided by chanting.
His thoughts returned to the disappearances.
What if the missing villagers had not been taken by force? What if they had been made to leave their homes without fully understanding their own actions?
It would explain why a person might vanish without an obvious struggle—if that was what had happened in a particular case. It could also explain why the villagers had been so difficult to trace.
But there were too many unanswered questions.
Had the victims consumed Cheerani? He had no evidence of that.
Was Vasa Tantra actually being used? The manuscript described a possibility, not proof.
And who would possess the knowledge to perform it?
Puru looked back at the final restriction.
One victim at a time.
His brow tightened.
There were already many missing villagers. If Vasa Tantra was responsible, the practitioner could not control all of them simultaneously.
Perhaps the disappearances had occurred at different times. Perhaps more than one practitioner was involved. Or perhaps Vasa Tantra explained only part of what was happening.
He had no way to distinguish between these possibilities yet.
Still, the entry had given him something valuable.
A possible explanation for how someone might disappear.
But that brought him to another question.
Why were so many people being taken?
Puru leaned back, staring at the manuscript.
A person might be abducted for revenge, for ransom, or to settle an old dispute. But the disappearances had affected multiple villages. If the pattern was connected, then perhaps the victims were not being gathered for individual reasons.
Perhaps they were needed for something else.
A ritual.
He lowered his eyes to the pages.
The first entry had stated that some Tantras required only one person, while others required several. If someone intended to perform a ritual involving many people, the missing villagers might be connected to its requirements.
It was only a possibility. He had no proof that the disappearances and a larger ritual were connected.
But it was a possibility worth investigating.
He began turning the pages again, this time searching for one particular detail.
The number of people required.
He passed over entries that dealt with a single individual. He paid closer attention to those that mentioned multiple participants, examining their conditions before moving on.
His eyes began to ache, but he continued.
Then he found another entry.
Jana Tantra.
The title was clear enough, but the pages that followed were badly damaged. Several lines had faded beyond recognition. In other places, entire sections were missing, leaving broken sentences and incomplete instructions.
Puru adjusted the manuscript beneath the lamp.
He tried to piece together the surviving words.
The entry indicated that Jana Tantra required several people. There were references to a sequence of procedures, but the descriptions were incomplete. Every time he thought he had understood a passage, the next line disappeared into a patch of faded ink or a torn section of paper.
He turned to the following page.
Worse.
He returned to the previous one and read it again.
Nothing changed.
He could make out the requirement for several people. He could not understand what the ritual was intended to accomplish.
Puru exhaled through his nose.
Vasa Tantra might explain how the victims were being moved. Jana Tantra might explain why so many people were needed.
The thought formed slowly, connecting the two entries in his mind.
But the connection was far from certain.
Jana Tantra might have nothing to do with the disappearances. The damaged pages might have concealed the very information he needed. And even if the two Tantras were connected, he still did not know who was behind them.
He needed a better-preserved copy, another source, or someone who understood these practices.
For now, the manuscript had given him two questions instead of answers.
He continued searching through the remaining pages, hoping to find another passage that might clarify Jana Tantra.
A soft knock interrupted him.
Puru looked up.
"Puru?" Tanuj's voice came from the other side of the door. "Are you still awake?"
"Yes," Puru answered. "Come in."
The door opened, and Tanuj stepped inside. He looked as though he had been about to retire for the night but had noticed the light beneath the door.
His gaze fell on the open manuscript.
"What are you reading?"
Puru glanced down at the pages.
"An old book Timmarusu gave me."
Tanuj came a little closer. "And what does it contain?"
Puru hesitated for a moment.
Then he answered honestly.
"It's about black magic."
Tanuj's expression changed at once.
He reached forward and shut the manuscript.
"Don't say those words here," he whispered urgently.
He glanced toward the doorway, as though checking whether anyone outside had heard them. Then he took the manuscript from Puru, crouched beside the bed, and slipped it underneath.
Puru watched him in surprise.
"Tanuj, what—"
"Please," Tanuj interrupted, keeping his voice low. "Not here. Not in this house."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Tanuj straightened and sat beside him.
"My ancestors suffered terribly because of black magic," he explained quietly. "The stories have been passed down in our family for generations. Whatever happened to them, my family never wanted anything to do with such practices again."
His eyes moved briefly toward the bed.
"If my parents saw a book like that in this house, they would be deeply disturbed. I don't want to bring those memories back to them."
The urgency in his voice softened into something closer to a plea.
"I'm not asking you to throw it away. Just don't read it openly here. And please, don't speak about it where my parents might hear."
Puru looked at him for a moment before nodding.
"I understand. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"You don't have to apologise," Tanuj replied. "You didn't know our family's history."
He gave Puru a small, reassuring smile.
"But promise me you'll be careful with that book."
"I will."
Tanuj seemed satisfied with the answer. He rose, checked that the door was properly closed, and returned to the bed.
"Come on. It's late. Whatever answers that book contains, they'll still be there tomorrow."
Puru almost smiled.
"You make it sound as though I'm preparing for an examination."
"You've been staring at those pages for so long that I was beginning to wonder whether you'd forgotten where you were."
"Perhaps I did."
"Then let the manuscript wait. You need sleep."
Puru nodded. He was exhausted, though his mind continued to move from one question to another.
As they settled down, Tanuj spoke again.
"Do you think we'll ever understand what happened to Raghu?"
Puru turned toward him.
"I don't know."
"His disappearance frightened everyone. And then he returned…" Tanuj paused, searching for the right words. "I still find it difficult to believe that he came back after everything that happened."
"So do I," Puru said.
He remembered the uncertainty surrounding Raghu's disappearance and return. There were still things they did not understand, and the unanswered questions troubled him more than he wanted to admit.
"Whatever happened to him, we cannot ignore it," Puru continued. "If we fail to understand the disappearances, we may never know whether the danger has truly passed."
Tanuj was quiet for a while.
"Then we'll keep looking for answers," he said at last. "You won't have to do everything alone."
Puru looked at his friend.
There was no grand promise in Tanuj's words, only the familiar sincerity of someone who wanted to help.
"Thank you," Puru said.
"Now sleep. We have to return to the Gurukula in the morning."
Tanuj closed his eyes.
Puru did the same, but sleep did not come easily.
Even with the manuscript hidden beneath the bed, its contents remained vivid in his mind.
Vasa Tantra.
Jana Tantra.
One might explain how the victims were being moved. The other might have some connection to the number of people who had disappeared.
Yet neither had given him a name, a location, or proof.
He had a direction to investigate, nothing more.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame his thoughts.
The room fell silent.
Morning arrived quietly.
The first light of dawn slipped through the windows, spreading across the floor. The household began to stir, and the familiar sounds of another day filled the house.
After washing and preparing to leave, Puru thanked Tanuj's parents for their hospitality. His words were met with the same warmth with which he had been welcomed the previous evening.
Tanuj accompanied him outside.
The air was cool, and a thin mist still lingered over parts of the path. The road toward the Gurukula stretched ahead between trees and scattered houses.
For a while, the two friends walked without speaking.
Tanuj eventually broke the silence.
"You look tired."
"I didn't sleep well."
"Was it the book?"
Puru gave a faint nod.
"Partly."
"Then perhaps you should stop trying to solve every mystery in a single night."
"If only mysteries were that cooperative."
Tanuj laughed softly.
"True. They seem to enjoy making life difficult for you."
Puru smiled, but his thoughts soon returned to the manuscript.
He could still picture the passage describing Vasa Tantra. The idea that someone could guide another person's movements while that person remained unaware was disturbing.
If the disappearances had involved such a practice, it might explain how some victims had been taken. But he could not assume that every case followed the same pattern.
And Vasa Tantra's limitation remained a problem.
One victim at a time.
Why had so many villagers disappeared?
His thoughts shifted to Jana Tantra.
Several people were required. That much he had understood. Beyond it lay damaged pages and broken sentences.
Could the missing villagers have been gathered for a ritual that required many participants?
The possibility was difficult to ignore.
But a possibility was not a conclusion.
He needed evidence. He needed to know whether the disappearances were connected, whether the manuscript described the method actually being used, and whether Jana Tantra had anything to do with the missing people at all.
For now, all he possessed was a theory with more gaps than answers.
Puru kept walking.
The path ahead began to blur.
He blinked, trying to clear his vision.
It didn't help.
The road seemed to sway beneath his feet. He slowed, attempting to steady his steps, but the ground no longer felt firm beneath him.
A strange weakness spread through his legs.
He tried to walk straight.
His steps began to drift, no longer following the path he intended to take. He tightened his jaw and forced himself forward, hoping the sensation would pass.
It didn't.
His legs trembled.
Puru struggled to keep his balance. Confusion rose within him, replacing the thoughts that had occupied his mind only moments earlier.
What is happening to me?
He turned his head toward his friend.
Tanuj was walking beside him.
Puru tried to speak.
But before a single word escaped his lips, darkness swallowed his vision.
And the ground rushed toward him.