Chapter 1: Whispers in the Ruins

The sky was torn.

Once a serene blue, now a sickly blend of purple and red, like bruised skin stretched over the horizon. Shubhu stared at the broken landscape ahead, the skyline of what used to be a city—towers reduced to rubble, streets cracked and overgrown with vines that didn't belong to this world. This wasn't Earth anymore, not fully. And it wasn't Satal either.

It's my fault.

The thought gnawed at him, louder with each passing moment. His experiment had caused this—the merging of two planets, Earth and Satal, and the annihilation of millions. The gods had cursed him for it. The survivors, if there were any left, feared him. He had brought ruin to both worlds. For what?

Shubhu walked alone, his boots crunching over the debris, his mind far from the physical path ahead. He had lost track of time, of place. Days and nights blended into a single blur of guilt and silence. The only thing that kept him moving was a faint sense of duty, a nagging voice in his head that told him he had to do something, though what that was, he didn't know.

The wind whispered through the empty streets, carrying with it a strange, unsettling chill. Shubhu paused, frowning. Something about the air was different today. He could feel it. A shift, subtle but unmistakable, like the world itself was breathing in his presence.

And then he saw them.

At first, it was just a shimmer at the corner of his vision—faint, barely there. He turned his head, expecting to see nothing, another trick of the light. But instead, he saw them. Spirits, glowing softly against the backdrop of ruined buildings. They hovered just above the ground, their forms translucent, shifting with the breeze.

Shubhu's breath caught in his throat. He had seen strange things since the merger, but nothing like this. These beings were… new. Their shapes were vague, not quite human but not entirely alien either. They seemed to be made of light, flickering like candle flames in the dimming twilight.

For a moment, he stood frozen, unsure if they were real or just another hallucination brought on by exhaustion. But as he stared, the spirits began to move, drifting closer to him, their light intensifying.

One of them stopped in front of him, hovering just out of reach. Shubhu could feel its presence, warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the cold indifference of the ruined world around them. The spirit didn't speak—not with words. But Shubhu felt something stir inside him, a sensation he couldn't quite describe.

We are here.

The thought wasn't his own, but it echoed in his mind, clear and soft. His heart raced, confusion mixing with a strange sense of familiarity. These beings, whatever they were, felt… connected to him. As if they were waiting for him.

"Who are you?" Shubhu whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.

The spirit didn't answer in words. Instead, it pulsed softly, its light flickering in rhythm with Shubhu's own heartbeat. The others hovered nearby, their forms swaying gently, like leaves caught in a breeze. They were watching him, waiting for something.

Shubhu's mind raced. Were these spirits born from the merger? The explosion that had ripped two worlds apart had also created something new—these beings, these entities. But why had they come to him?

You are not alone.

The thought struck him, sharp and unexpected. Not alone? Shubhu almost laughed at the absurdity of it. He had never felt more isolated in his life. The gods had abandoned him, cursed him for what he had done. The survivors—if they even knew he still existed—would likely hunt him down for answers, or worse, vengeance. How could he not be alone?

But the spirits pulsed again, their light soft and calming. They moved closer, their presence filling the empty space around him, wrapping him in a cocoon of warmth. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make Shubhu pause, to feel something other than the crushing weight of his guilt.

"Why… why are you here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The spirit closest to him drifted forward, its form shimmering brighter. It was hard to describe what it looked like—its shape was constantly shifting, as if it was made of water and light at the same time. But there was something peaceful about it, something that eased the tightness in his chest.

We are born from the worlds. Like you.

Shubhu frowned. Like me? He didn't understand. He wasn't some ethereal being born from chaos. He was just a scientist—a man who had tried to play with forces beyond his control and had paid the price.

But deep down, a part of him knew it wasn't that simple. His experiment had unlocked something, something ancient and powerful. The merging of the planets wasn't just an accident. It was connected to him in ways he couldn't yet comprehend.

The spirits seemed to sense his confusion, their lights flickering in response. They didn't push him for answers, didn't judge him for what he had done. They were simply… there. Existing alongside him, sharing the same broken world.

"You… you don't hate me?" Shubhu asked, his voice fragile, as if he didn't dare hope for an answer.

The spirit pulsed again, softer this time, its light casting a warm glow over his face. No. We are with you.

Something inside Shubhu cracked at those words, something he hadn't realized had been holding him together. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, overwhelmed by the weight of it all—the destruction, the guilt, the loneliness. The spirits hovered around him, their presence a gentle comfort in the cold, unforgiving world.

For the first time since the disaster, Shubhu felt a sliver of hope. It was faint, fragile, but it was there. These spirits, these beings born from the same chaos that had destroyed so much—they didn't hate him. They didn't fear him.

They were with him.