Svetavastra soared through the night sky, the wind caressing sharply against his skin as he hastened towards the border city. A flash of memory hit him; he had left the preta behind. His brows puckered into a mild frown. With a fluid motion, he extended his palm forward, channelling his spiritual energy. From the glowing warmth of his hand, a luminescent butterfly emerged, its wings shimmering with purple light.

“Protect the preta,” he told the translucent purple butterfly.

The butterfly nodded as if understanding its purpose and then fluttered away, navigating through the breezy air, back to the tree by the stream.

“No-god God has abandoned me,” the preta sobbed lounging in the shadow of the tree. It perked up as the butterfly approached it from the sky.

“Preta,” said the purple butterfly and the preta could hear it in Svetavastra’s voice. “I have to take care of some things. Till I return, meditate in the barrier of this butterfly. It will keep you safe.”

The preta looked at the glowing butterfly with make-believe wide watery eyes, its spirits lifted up when it realised it had not been abandoned. It transformed itself into a make-believe cross-legged position.

“I will meditate, No-god God,” it said enthusiastically. “You just wait and watch, how good I shall meditate.”

The butterfly dissipated and formed a translucent barrier around the preta.

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Far above in the skies, Svetavastra felt the spiritual butterfly’s transformation into a barrier and a smile touched his lips as he felt mildly relieved. He had not realised his attachment to the preta till then. He turned his mind’s gaze forward and observed the green pillar of light that shot through the sky. Green flames from the pillar swirled in a vortex around it and hungrily devoured the undead in the vicinity, their forms disintegrating into ash upon contact.

Svetavastra now hovered above the border city, his robes fluttering with the rising wind. He broadened his field of mind’s vision to examine the city as a whole - he saw the dark auras from the undead spread across the city and near the exit gates of the city he spotted a mortal aura covered under a horde of the undead, fighting his way out even when he was significantly outnumbered.

A human? Svetavastra thought.

Making a snap decision, Svetavastra descended, the air parting smoothly around him as he approached the city gates. He extended his hand and spiritual energy started to coalesce around his palm. The undead, sensing the pure spiritual energy turned their hollow gazes and bodies towards the blind cultivator and started to approach him.

With a swift motion, he unleashed a wave of purple spiritual energy towards the undead, the energy cut through the undead like a scythe, turning them to dust.

Lakhan, finally freed from the unrelenting hold of the undead looked at the spectacle, his heart pounding in his chest. He could only stare in awe at the blindfolded person in front of him, weaving spiritual energy through the air and extinguishing the undead. He felt light, the weariness that had weighed his limbs seemed to lift as he looked at what he thought was a deity descending from the Swarga-loka to save him.

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Svetavastra approached the mortal who had defiantly fought and held against the undead. The human bowed to him in gratitude and reverence.

“Lakhan thanks you for saving his life, Your Divinity,” said the human in a humble tone.

“I’m only a cultivator,” replied Svetavastra. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

“I am not sure,” said Lakhan. “I followed my chief here and these creatures came out of nowhere. My chief is still stuck in the city with these creatures - can you please save him too?”

“Hmm,” said Svetavastra thinking about this new information.

“What is that?” Lakhan pointed to the green pillar of light in wonder. “I felt a shockwave earlier. Not sure if the green light and that were related. I hope the chief is alright.”

“Let me take care of that,” said Svetavastra. “Wait here.”

He summoned another spiritual butterfly that formed into a barrier around Lakhan and leapt into the sky towards the green pillar of light.

Beneath Svetavastra, large vines originating from the green light, vigorous and unrestrained, surged from the ground, enveloping walls and buildings. They twisted and turned, claiming the city as their own. As he drew closer, Svetavastra's mind’s eye picked up the unusual flickering of green energy as a dark miasma surrounding the green pillar of light tried to encroach it.

The green fire that was tainted by the dark miasma turned into a dark fire. The undead that came in contact with this dark fire perished to dust but returned as rouge pretas swirling in the sky.

Svetavastra stilled for a moment to watch as the green fire and dark energy fought against one another to gain an upper hand. He looked at the mortal at the heart of the pillar of the green light.

The green fire and vines are the powers of Yaksha-mani, Svetavastra thought to himself. Given how powerful the pillar of light is, the possessor of the mani must be a yaksha himself. His aura corrupted by the dark miasma does belong to the spirit world. The dark miasma cannot take full control of him as he is still alive. It is waiting for him to lose control of the yaksha powers that can kill his mortal body.

The newly formed rouge pretas came crawling in the air to Svetavastra attracted by his pure spiritual energy. Without paying any heed to him, he offhandedly opened the Pretabandana that rose into the air to capture these pretas while maintaining his attention on the Kapala Chief.

This is a tricky situation, Svetavastra mentally groaned. I would have to first subdue the yaksha powers without killing the yaksha and then purify the Yakshamani removing the dark miasma from it.

Svetavastra extended his hands, palms facing the tumult of green light and dark energy below, his spiritual energy now a visible aura that encased him in a protective barrier. The shimmering barrier pulsating with his spiritual power, sliced through the green fire and dark miasma as he approached the ground. He descended and came face to face with the Kapala Chief who seemed to be suspended in agony. The chief's eyes mirrored the torment of the energies that raged within him. The dark miasma clung to him, a parasite feeding off his intense emotions, the very emotions that set the green fire ablaze.

How do I do it? Svetavastra wondered in his mind. He tried to swift through all the information he had gained till then. The chief had been in the city when it was outrun by the undead. Lakhan had come to rescue the chief but he was outnumbered by the undead. The chief unleashed his yaksha powers.

Wait, Svetavastra thought, realisation hitting him like a brick of ice. The chief created the undead?! That explains why the undead incident was localised on the Diksuchi map. Did the dark miasma get the better of him then? Lakhan had not seen the green pillar of light till I saved him but he was in the city with the chief fighting the undead. Did the chief awaken his yaksha powers to save Lakhan?

“Let’s see if this works,” he said to himself. He transformed himself to look like Lakhan, with black robes and a wooden mask. He pushed through the green light entering it and called out in Lakhan’s voice,

“Chief! I’m here!”

He saw no response from the yaksha.

He inched closer, holding the yaksha’s face with his hands and pretended to look into the yaksha's eyes.

“Chief! I’m here,” he repeated slowly in Lakhan’s voice.

The yaksha in front of him blinked, a flicker of recognition passing through his eyes.