They say every bond can be broken, but the resistance of the bound answers to a master who will not let go.
~~~~~
The hour of Brāhma-muhūrta settles quietly over the world.
The sky rest in that fragile space between night and dawn—darkness leaving, but light not yet born. A pale soft and untouched blue hush spread across horizon. The world feels paused, as if nature itself waits for something sacred to unfold.
KaanKuwar stands at the center of the space, preparing .
Stanzin watches from a distance, his gaze fixed on him…studying, searching. trying to get the answer of one question that remains within him, constant and unresolved. What is he?
He has seen KaanKuwar healing others. His control. The way he moves through things unseen. Yet no answer comes. No name, no form, nothing he can hold onto.
"Bring him" KaanKuwar says, voice low, steady.
Stanzin nods and steps away. Moments later, he returns—with the shapeshifter.
The boy.
It stands before KaanKuwar again, wearing the same fragile human form.
It steps forward and stops.
Then—
KaanKuwar inhales.
Slowly, Deeply.
The stillness around him shifts…. with presence. Something gathers, something unseen drawing inward, responding to him.
Stanzin's eyes narrow slightly, watching closely.
KaanKuwar exhales.
And from his breath, something emerges.
Threads.
Golden, radiant threads slip into the air, glowing softly yet carrying a heat that feels alive. They move with purpose, flowing forward, drawn toward the shapeshifter as if they already know what they seek.
The moment they touch him—he screams.
His body jerks violently, the boy's form cracking at the edges. The golden threads begin to pass through him.
"Stay still" KaanKuwar says, his voice firm.
But the shapeshifter cannot obey.
Its form begins to break—boy to shadow, shadow to something animal, something unformed, shifting rapidly as the light forces its way deeper.
And then…
a black string appears.
Out of nowhere, it pierces straight through the shapeshifter, cutting into him.
In the next moment, it spreads—dark veins crawling across his form, wrapping, tightening, claiming him from within.
KaanKuwar notices.
"Bi***," he murmurs under his breath.
For a fraction of a moment, his golden threads falter—then surge forward.
They wrap around the black string, pressing, burning, trying to sever it.
KaanKuwar's breath deepens, heavier now. His focus sharpens as he forces more of that golden force into the clash.
The black string trembles—but it does not break.
Instead—it resists.
Violently.
The shapeshifter cries out, its body arching as if something inside him is being ripped apart from both ends.
"I….. I… can't—" it gasps, voice splitting.
"Hold" KaanKuwar commands.
The golden threads pull harder.
The black string stretches—
for a moment, it seems as if it might snap—
And then—
it pulls back.
The shapeshifter's body jerks forward, dragged by something hidden, its form flickering wildly.
Stanzin's eyes sharpen.
Something is wrong.
Stanzin steps closer now, unease rising in his voice. "What is happening?"
"His master already knows." KaanKuwar replies.
Stanzin freezes. "What?"
KaanKuwar voice steadier.
"She knew I would attempt this."
"She is performing a ritual of her own."
The golden threads flicker under pressure.
"She is pulling him back."
The black string pulses.
The shapeshifter lets out a broken scream as its body is yanked again, its form destabilizing further.
KaanKuwar pushes forward.
The golden light intensifies, wrapping tighter around the black string.
For a moment—
it begins to tear.
A faint fracture forms.
And then—
a violent force strikes back.
The golden threads shudder.
The space between them trembles—not with sound, but with force colliding against force.
The black string tightens, darkening, strengthening—as if fed by something far beyond.
The clash deepens.
Not seen.
But felt.
KaanKuwar's expression hardens.
This is no longer just a ritual.
This is a battle.
Across distance.
Across will.
The shapeshifter convulses between them, caught in the pull—dragged one way, then the other, its form breaking and reforming uncontrollably.
"I'm being…pulled…." it gasps.
Stanzin stands frozen, watching something he cannot fully understand.
KaanKuwar does not step back.
His breath deepens once more.
And the golden threads surge again.
stronger.