The van rumbled through the dimly lit backroads, its worn tires crunching over gravel and broken tar. Inside, the air was tense.
Das sat with his back against the metal wall, face still covered by the dark cloth that wrapped around his head like a turban mask. Beside him, Sura sat upright, hands on his knees, his mind racing with questions. The few remaining disciples sat in a separate section of the large van, whispering nervously.
Finally, unable to hold back, Sura turned toward Das.
"Elder," he asked softly, "can you… can you tell me who you are? Why you are attacked by Forbidden Soul sect women?"
Das did not respond. His head remained bowed slightly, the cloth hiding not just his face but also the flicker of panic in his eyes. He said nothing. A quiet silence filled the van.
But just then, one of the younger disciples who had been sitting across from them leaned forward with widened eyes.
