Silence Before the Storm
Silence.
For a moment, it felt like the world had paused.
Then came the pain.
Vihaan gasped — or tried to. His lungs refused to expand, crushed under the weight of his shattered ribs. Blood pooled in his mouth, thick and coppery. His vision blurred from pain and blood loss, but not fear. Not anymore.
Darkness wrapped around him like a coffin.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't scream.
But he remembered.
Brayden's smirk.
Julian's phone.
Miles' snicker.
Alicia's cold eyes.
And worst of all… Adrian's silence.
The betrayal. The laughter. The way Adrian looked away.
That hurt more than any shattered bone.
But before the hatred could fully erupt, something else pierced his chest — not physically, but emotionally:
"Mom… Liora…"
Images flooded his mind — his mother working overtime shifts, sneaking meals into his plate while claiming she wasn't hungry.
His little sister giggling, placing her dinosaur in his bag.
They were waiting for him.
He was their last hope.
He blinked, and the tears blurred with blood.
"I can't… die like this."
Then — the fire came.
"They threw me away… like I was nothing."
Rage erupted.
They laughed while I fell.
They left me to die.
"I will burn them all."
The Whisper from the Pit
"Now this," came a voice, smooth and ancient, "is the kind of soul worth saving."
Vihaan's heart skipped.
"Such hatred. Such betrayal. Such raw, delicious fury."
The voice echoed all around him — like wind through stone tombs, feminine but laced with something older than time.
"You curse their names even with your dying breath. You would sacrifice your soul to make them suffer."
A shadow began to gather — not outside him, but within the darkness of his chest. He saw nothing. But he felt her.
"You were thrown away," she said, almost tenderly. "Just like I was."
He couldn't speak anymore. He barely even breathed. But the fury pulsed in his chest like a second heart.
"Do you want to live, Vihaan Sen?"
"Do you want power?"
"Do you want revenge?"
His lips trembled. The blood trickling from them shimmered in the black void.
"…Yes."
The Divine Pact
"Then let me take my offering."
A figure emerged from the dark — regal, terrifying, and beautiful.
A woman cloaked in black and gold, her skin pale as moonlight and cracked with ancient sigils. Her eyes blazed like molten gold. Her voice was velvet — soft, seductive, yet sharp enough to slice.
She knelt beside him.
"You are broken," she whispered, brushing his blood-matted hair aside. "But broken things… can become divine."
She leaned closer — not to kiss his lips, but to drink from them.
Her tongue grazed the blood on his mouth — and she smiled.
"So bitter. So full of fire."
And then, like a ritual known only to forgotten gods, she pressed her lips to his — not with passion, but hunger.
She drank from his mouth. His blood. His agony. His desire.
She took everything.
When she pulled back, her lips were crimson, her eyes glowing.
"You have fed me your rage. In return… I grant you my mark."
She raised her palm over his chest — golden symbols igniting around her arm like ancient code.
"You shall rise… as my apostle."
The symbol etched into his soul — pain surged, burning into his right hand — but he didn't scream.
Because in that moment, he fainted.
And the darkness took him again.
Return to the Surface
"Vihaan!"
Cold water slapped his face.
He jolted up, coughing, gasping.
Light.
Heat.
Noise.
He was alive.
Students gathered around him — Ms. Claire Hargrove kneeling with a bottle, worry creasing her brow.
"Vihaan! What happened? Were you pushed? Are you okay?"
He didn't answer.
He was scanning the crowd.
Brayden.
Julian.
Miles.
Alicia.
And Adrian — looking away.
You let them throw me away.
Vihaan stood slowly. The world spun, but he stood.
Something pulsed in his right hand.
He looked down — and saw it.
A glowing mark, etched into his skin like a divine scar.
It wasn't a dream.
Ms. Claire repeated her question. "Did anyone do something to you?"
Vihaan glanced at the faces — especially Adrian's.
"…No," he muttered. "I just tripped."
He turned away before anyone could say more.
The desert wind howled softly, like a distant laugh from below.
Written by Ghost_Writer_2020
Copyright © 2025 GhostWriter
All rights reserved. This story is an original work of fiction by the author. Any unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or adaptation without explicit permission is strictly prohibited.