Having meditated every day for the past few days, Aryaman felt the spiritual energy surging within him, a warm, tingling sensation that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. As they traveled to the nearest ley line intersection, Aryaman rode Himmat while Svetavastra rode another horse beside him.
The steady clop of hooves on the forest path created a rhythmic backdrop, and they moved with a purposeful yet unhurried pace, ensuring their mounts didn’t tire. Each night, they found shelter under the expansive canopy of a sturdy tree, the crackling campfire casting flickering shadows and warding off the unseen creatures of the night.
Aryaman quickly embraced the routine, finding comfort in the daily rhythm of meditation, strength drills, and perfecting his footwork and sword techniques. Svetavastra often sat in deep meditation, breaking his silence only occasionally to offer Aryaman a few choice words of guidance, which Aryaman eagerly absorbed, treasuring each rare piece of wisdom.
Late one evening, they finally reached a dense forest where the ley line intersection was located. The trees were towering, their branches intertwining to form a natural canopy that blocked out most of the fading sunlight. A thick mist clung to the forest floor, swirling around their horses' hooves as they moved forward. The luminous diksuchi hovering in Svetavastra’s hand glowed an ominous red.
As they drew closer, the temperature dropped noticeably, and Aryaman shivered as an inexplicable sense of dread washed over him. His heart pounded louder with each step, and his breaths grew shallow, a cocktail of anticipation and fear swirling within him. This would be his first encounter with the rogue pretas.
Himmat steps became hesitant. He snorted nervously, his breath visible in the cold air. With each step closer to the intersection, Himmat's unease grew, and he finally stopped, refusing to go further. He neighed in protest, his eyes wide with fear.
“There there, Himmat,” said Aryaman holding the horse’s face and stroking it gently. “It’s alright. And I’m here.”
“Let’s leave the mounts here, Arya,” said Svetavastra getting down from his horse. He placed a protective barrier around the horses so that they are invisible to the rogue pretas.
“Can I also stay with the horses?” the preta in the bracer asked in a mewling tone.
“Do you want to get sucked into the pretabandana?” said Svetavastra quietly.
“No,” said the preta mewling even further. The prince who could not hear the preta did not understand what was happening.
“Did you say something, gurudeva?” He asked Svetavastra puzzled.
Svetavastra nodded in the negative. He extended his hands, and a soft, shimmering light enveloped Aryaman and himself, forming an invisible barrier. Without a word, he stepped forward into the forest, the barrier moving with them like a guardian spirit.
As they approached the ley line intersection, the atmosphere grew tense, charged with an unseen force. Svetavastra paused, taking a deep breath. He raised his hands, and his fingers flickered with ethereal light. With a swift motion, he thrust his palms outward, releasing a wave of spiritual energy that rippled through the air. The energy spread out, illuminating the misty forest in a radiant glow.
Out of nowhere, a chorus of eerie wails pierced the air, sending shivers down Aryaman's spine. The ground trembled as the rogue pretas emerged from the ley lines that cackled with energy. Their forms flickering in and out of existence like malicious wraiths. They moved erratically, darting from one spot to another, their bodies twisting and contorting in unnatural ways. Dark energy and demonic red energy crackled around them, distorting the air and creating a chaotic, swirling vortex.
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Aryaman tightened his grip on his celestial sword, his eyes wide with both awe and fear. The pretas' movements were disjointed and unpredictable, making them hard to follow. One moment, a preta would be lunging towards him, only to vanish and reappear behind him the next. The air was filled with their guttural snarls and the never-ending swirls of dark energy.
“What do we do now gurudeva?” said Aryaman.
“The rogue pretas are too chaotic here,” said Svetavastra. “They have to be contained within a space for me to use the pretabandana. I can cast a wider net and trap them with my spiritual energy but I would like you to contain them with your celestial sword.”
“Sure, gurudeva,” said the prince with a determined look and then sheepishly asked, “and how do I do that, gurudeva?”
“Summon your sword’s celestial powers with the divine tongue and create a containment sphere big enough to trap all of the rouge pretas,” said Svetavastra.
“Okay, gurudeva,” said Aryaman.
He spoke in the divine tongue and the sword transformed from an ordinary-looking sword to the bright and radiant celestial sword with the golden hilt. He raised his celestial sword, feeling its immense power humming through his veins. “Daityahan asi, lend me your strength,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the pretas’ wails. The blade responded, glowing with an intense golden light that cut through the encroaching darkness.
With a swift, decisive motion, Aryaman swung the sword in a wide arc. A wave of celestial energy surged from the blade, forming a glowing sphere around the ley line intersection. The light blazed brightly, momentarily blinding him. He blinked away the spots in his vision and continued moving, his steps deliberate and quick. He completed the sphere, the sword leaving a trail of radiant energy that enclosed the area in a shimmering dome.
As the sphere formed, the celestial energy coalesced into a shimmering barrier. The pretas, drawn to the light, lunged towards it but recoiled violently as they touched the boundary. Their erratic movements were momentarily stilled, their guttural snarls turning into frustrated howls. The air crackled with the intensity of the opposing forces, the dark energy clashing with the celestial barrier.
The pretas were forced to remain within its bounds, their chaotic darting now confined. Aryaman moved with precise, practiced motions, adjusting the sphere to ensure it encompassed all the rogue spirits. His focus was unwavering, sweat dripping down his forehead as he poured more energy into each swing of his sword.
However, the pretas, in their chaotic frenzy, found weak points in the forming sphere. A few of them slipped through the gaps, their forms flickering as they escaped into the forest. Aryaman’s eyes widened with alarm.
“No!” Aryaman shouted.
He tightened his grip on his sword and dashed after the escaping pretas. The light from his sword flared as he swung it, sending arcs of celestial energy to corral the rogue spirits back towards the sphere.
One preta lunged at him from the side, but Aryaman anticipated the move, pivoting swiftly and slicing through it with a burst of light. Another preta darted high into the trees, but Aryaman leapt into the air, his sword glowing as he brought it down in a powerful strike, driving the preta back towards the containment sphere.
Svetavastra observed Aryaman’s feats with his mind’s eyes and nodded to himself.
Aryaman’s muscles burned with exertion, but he pushed through the pain. He expanded the sphere, reinforcing the boundaries with additional layers of celestial energy. The glowing sphere pulsed brighter, tightening around the pretas and making escape more difficult.
The rogue pretas, sensing their diminishing chances of freedom, grew more frantic. Aryaman moved with relentless determination, his sword a blur of radiant light as he redirected every escaping preta back into the sphere. His breaths came in ragged gasps.
With a final burst of strength, Aryaman swung his sword in a wide arc, closing the gaps in the sphere. The celestial energy solidified, trapping the pretas within the now-impenetrable barrier. The pretas writhed and hissed, their forms twisting in agony as they were corralled into the center of the sphere. The light from the celestial energy reflected off their distorted faces, casting grotesque shadows on the ground.
“Good job, Arya,” said Svetavastra as he summoned the pretabandana and captured the rogue pretas into it.
“Thank you, gurudeva,” he said with a grin between ragged breaths.
“The intersection is purified,” said Svetavastra after he sealed the pretabandana and manually checked the intersection with his spiritual powers.
“How long would the purification last, gurudeva?” asked the prince concerned.
Svetavastra opened the luminous diksuchi and it glowed a faint red in the northern direction.
“For now it’s fine but we’ll have to keep cleansing all the intersections till we reach the associated portal to the underworld,” said Svetavastra looking in the direction the compass was pointing towards.