Dragon summoner

Home.

The word didn't bring fully comfort to him because of his step mom.

As the car pulled into the drive, the front door burst open. Lilly ran toward them—her face a portrait of panic and forced devotion. She threw her arms around Vishu the moment he stepped out.

"My baby," she whispered. "Thank God you're home."

Her embrace was tight, too tight—like she was trying to convince him of something. But Vishu didn't return the emotion. He stood still, stiff in her arms, his body numb.

He could feel it—her heartbeat was steady. Her hands, too controlled. Her eyes, when they glanced at him, didn't hold a mother's fear. They held calculation.

She's acting.

She wants something.

But what?

He didn't ask. He didn't speak. He simply let her hold him and forced his arms around her in return—cold, mechanical, hollow.

Vikram stepped forward and placed a hand gently on Lilly's shoulder. His voice tried to sound warm, but it wavered beneath exhaustion and something else—doubt.

"I've brought your lovely son home," he said. "So don't cry now."

Lilly didn't say a word. She only nodded, slowly, like a puppet on strings, then turned toward the house.

As they entered the silent halls, Vishu felt it again—the familiar, suffocating chill.

This wasn't a home. Just a house in which he have to pass the time and wait for his father and someday he will do something and go from here and live alone. He will meet with his father but not his step mom.

He reached his room and shut the door behind him with trembling hands. Fear gripped his heart like a vice. What if they punish me for something I never even did?

"Oh God," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "If anything happens to me… please take care of my father. Please."

With a heavy sigh, he collapsed onto his bed, trying to steady his breath and calm the chaos in his mind. But every time he closed his eyes, the voices returned—louder, crueler, echoing like a curse.

"You killed my son!"

"You will pay for your sins!"

"Monster!"

His eyes flew open. Gasping, he sat upright, drenched in sweat. Panic surged through him, and he began pacing the room, his footsteps restless and frantic.

Suddenly—

Crack.

Crack.

A sharp sound broke the silence from just beyond the door. His heart skipped a beat.

He froze.

Another creak.

He darted to the door, yanked it open—

And ran out, unable to bear the fear pressing in on all sides.

As Vishu stepped into the hallway, he froze.

His mother stood there, breathing heavily, her eyes wild and glassy with terror. In her trembling hands, she held a metal rod—its end dripping with blood-red wine from the shattered glass on the floor beside her.

Before he could speak, she pointed at him with a shaking finger and screamed,

"What are you doing?! I'm your mother!"

Her voice cracked with panic.

"Don't kill me, please! I don't want to die like Luice!"

Vishu stood there, stunned, unable to make sense of her words.

"I beg you, Vishu—please!" she cried, her voice rising into a shriek. And then, in one terrifying motion, she picked up a jagged shard from the floor and pressed it against her neck.

"I won't tell anyone, I swear! Please don't kill me!"

He took a step forward, his hands raised. "Mom… what are you talking about?"

But she backed away, eyes wide, like he was some kind of demon. Her performance was so convincing… too convincing. But deep down, Vishu knew—this was all an act.

Why? What was she trying to prove? To whom?

Suddenly—

SLAM.

His father burst into the hallway. He stopped cold at the scene before him.

His face turned pale.

There stood Vishu—his hands outstretched—seemingly pinning his mother to the wall as she clutched the glass to her throat. From the outside, it looked like a brutal standoff.

"Vishu!" his father bellowed. "What are you doing?! Let her go!"

Vishu turned, horrified.

"No! I didn't do anything—she's pretending—I swear, I didn't touch her!"

But his voice was drowned by the sound of his mother's sobs, the broken glass glittering like a weapon in the dim light.

And in that moment, he saw it—

The trap was closing.

And he was already inside.

His father was shocked and immediately ordered, "Leave her, right now!"

Lilly, still acting, cried out dramatically, "Save me, Vikram! He's going to kill me! Please, save me!"

His father shouted again, this time louder and firmer, "I said leave her!"

Lilly ran toward Vikram, trembling. "He'll kill me, Vikram... please, don't let him," she pleaded.

Vikram stood frozen, heartbroken and stunned. Then, with pain in his voice, he whispered,

"You really are exactly what they say... a monster. I thought you were my sweet boy — the one who never knew how to stand up for himself. But today, you've proved it... you carry your mother's blood."

He paused, his voice breaking with rage and sorrow.

"You should have died the day she did... the day she gave birth to you."

Vishu stood there, silent — his breathing heavy, his fists clenched, his eyes burning, but not with anger… with confusion, pain, betrayal.

He turned slowly toward Vikram, tears now forming in his eyes, but refusing to fall.

" I didn't do anything. Dad." After saying this he ran towards his room and closed the door.

He was feeling shattered. Now no one believes in him not even his father whom he trusted more than himself. He started crying but quietly

After all the chaos, Vishu stood shattered — not just broken by the words, but by the weight of truth that crashed over him like a tidal wave.

He staggered back, his heart pounding, his chest tight.

"He said I should've died..." the words echoed in his mind like a curse.

"Then what am I still doing here?"

His vision blurred, not from tears, but from disbelief.

"He called me dirty blood... like I'm nothing... like I never should've existed."

He clenched his fists, struggling to breathe as his thoughts spiraled.

"I don't even know what she looked like... my mother..." he whispered to himself.

"Who was she really? Was she a monster? Or just a name I was cursed to carry?" I just know that her name was 'Vishakha ' and nothing else "

Then a flicker of resolve cut through the storm inside him.

"No. I need to know. I have to know."

Suddenly, he turned and ran — his feet pounding against the floor, heart racing like a war drum.

"The storeroom..." he muttered.

"We still have some of her things there... something, anything that can tell me who she truly was."

He reached the door, hands trembling as he grabbed the rusted handle. With one swift pull, he threw it open and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind him — as if trying to lock the world and its lies out.

The air inside was thick with dust and silence, untouched for years. But for the first time in his life, Vishu was ready to uncover the truth.

No matter how much it hurt.