Dragon summoner

"You're the one who killed him—and yet the world is pointing fingers at me!" Vishu's voice trembled with rage. "They think I'm some kind of monster who slaughters people in cold blood!"

Ryan lowered his eyes, guilt etched deep into his face. "I hated you, yes... but not enough to do this. Not enough to take a life just to teach you a lesson. He was my friend—my brother in everything but blood—we grew up together."

His voice cracked as he took a step closer. "I never meant for things to go this far. I never wanted this... this nightmare." He swallowed hard, shame heavy in his throat. "You're not that cruel, Vishu. Not enough for me to ruin you like this."

He paused, the silence between them suffocating. Then, almost in a whisper, he added, "I'll go to court. I'll confess. I'll tell the truth—that I killed him, not you. You don't deserve this burden."

Vishu stood frozen, eyes wide, as if Ryan's words had knocked the breath out of him.

"You... what?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with disbelief. His fists clenched at his sides, and the storm of emotions raging within him finally erupted. "You think a confession will fix everything? Do you know what I've been through?"

His voice grew louder, raw with pain. "They looked at me like I was a monster. My own family doubted me. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't breathe—I kept asking myself, Did I do it? Did I black out and become something I'm not?"

He stepped forward, eyes burning into Ryan's.

"You let me drown in guilt for something you did." His voice cracked. "You let me live with the weight of a murder I didn't commit. And now—now you say you'll just confess? Like that will wipe the blood off my hands?"

A tear slid down his cheek, but he didn't wipe it. He didn't care anymore.

"You took away my peace, Ryan. You shattered it. And even if you tell the world the truth… I'll never get it back."

Vishu turned his back to him, his voice barely above a whisper now.

"But if you still have any soul left… do what's right. Not for me. For him. The friend you killed."

Vishu felt a wave of relief wash over him, but beneath it simmered a gnawing guilt. Deep down, he knew Ryan hadn't been himself—he had been possessed, consumed by the sinister fog demon that twisted his thoughts and actions. Still, Vishu was powerless. Powerless to save him. Powerless to speak the truth. If he dared open his mouth, everything would unravel—and the consequences would be far worse.

To escape this torment, he told himself that maybe… maybe it was better if everyone just forgot. If the truth vanished along with the fog. But how could they forget? That haunting question clawed at his mind, over and over, feeding his frustration like fuel to a fire.

"I'm going home," Vishu muttered, his voice low and distant. "You should too."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and began walking away, his steps heavy with the burden of silence.

But Ryan didn't move. He remained rooted in place, eyes blank, lips trembling.

"I will confess…" he murmured.

Vishu froze.

"Yes… I will confess and accept the punishment. I deserve it. For what I did…"

He kept repeating those words like a broken prayer, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Courtroom – Day

The heavy wooden doors creaked open as Vishu entered, flanked by two stern-faced police officers. His small frame looked even more fragile beside them. Though his wrists were free of handcuffs—merely because of his age—he still walked like a prisoner, burdened by the weight of eyes that pierced through him from every corner of the courtroom.

His father followed closely behind, silent, solemn, a storm of helplessness brewing in his eyes.

Inside, the courtroom buzzed with quiet tension. Lawyers shuffled through papers, whispered strategies, and cast glances toward the boy now standing in the defendant's box—as if he were a monster, not a child.

Moments later, the courtroom officer announced, "All rise."

The doors behind the bench opened, and the judge entered—his black robes flowing, his expression unreadable. Everyone rose to their feet in perfect silence. The sound of the judge's gavel striking echoed like thunder.

"You may be seated."

Chairs creaked and shuffled as everyone took their place. All except Vishu. He remained standing, alone, in the place reserved for the accused—the weight of guilt, fear, and confusion pressing down on his young shoulders.

His lawyer rose slowly, his voice calm but firm.

"My Lord," he began, drawing the court's attention. "My client… is just a child. How can a mere boy, barely old enough to understand the depth of his own emotions, be capable of such cruelty? What we are dealing with here is not a criminal mind—but a victim. A victim of forces far beyond his understanding or control."

Gasps whispered across the room. Even the judge narrowed his eyes, intrigued.

Vishu's eyes flickered, his lips trembling. He didn't understand the law, the arguments, or the procedures. All he knew was the truth buried deep in his heart—one he wasn't sure he could ever speak aloud.

The courtroom was gripped in silence as the prosecution lawyer stood, adjusting his coat with a cold, practiced elegance. His eyes narrowed at Vishu like a predator sizing up prey.

He took a step forward, voice sharp and unforgiving.

"My Lord," he began, **"while the defense tries to paint this boy as innocent simply because of his age, we must not forget—a child can still take a life."

He turned toward the jury, letting his words sink in.

**"The victim, Luice, was not just a name on paper. He was a son. A friend. A child—whose life was brutally taken. And standing before you is the one responsible."

Whispers flared in the room. Vishu stood frozen, his hands clenched, his chest rising and falling quickly.

The lawyer raised his voice, growing bolder.

"This is not a case of an unfortunate accident. Luice was found with marks of stabbing. Yes he was brutally Stabbed by him. He didn't tried to struggle may be he took him as a classmate,a friend. But what we do have… is a witness account of Vishu being seen near the area before the incident—moments before Luice was discovered lifeless."

Gasps echoed.

Then came a sudden cry from the back.

"My dear son!".

Everyone turned.

A woman stood, trembling—Luice's mother. Her face was hollow, tear-streaked, her voice quaking with grief and rage.

"My little luice is gone. Taken from me!" she sobbed. "And he's standing there like he doesn't even understand what he did. I want justice, Your Honour. I want him punished!"