Fable Factory

Ice in the veins

Hooded figure with ethereal elements in the background.
Illustration: Fatima Jahan Ena

While the warm breeze of March wafted over the university campus, a hooded figure walking silently through the grounds left a trail of cool air in his wake.

Carefully walking in the shadows, he took long strides with a purpose. Each time he stepped into the new moonlight, one could see the ice-cold fury in his eyes. The gunshots in the distance would have left anyone else running in the opposite direction, but the man with a glint of red in his eyes walked silently towards them.

As he approached the dormitories, he could feel the gunshots echo through his bones, getting louder with each step. One room, directly in front of him, had its doors kicked open. Countless sets of books and clothes were strewn across the doorway and floor. A single soldier stood in the doorway, peering in, observing the still bodies that laid within.

Filled with rage, his fast-paced strides switched to a quick sprint. Grabbing the solider from behind, he placed his fingertips on his neck. The soldier looked into his eyes – filled with fear as his face turned blue.

"How many of you are here?"

"Too many. I won't tell you, Bengali pig," replied the solider, gradually losing his breath as his eyes started to lose focus.

Letting the soldier slip down on the ground, the hooded man looked to his left as three other soldiers approached him. They couldn't spot the body of their comrade yet, so they progressed steadily with their guns raised.

"Who are you? Are you a student? Bengali?" barked one of the soldiers. 

The stranger repeated the same question he had asked the first soldier. Waiting only a few seconds for a response.

With no answers to satisfy him, he took one step towards the soldiers, quickly spinning in a circle as his right hand formed an arc with his palm towards them.

The air in front of his hand quickly condensed into ice, forming a spear that drove itself through the three armed men. As they fell to the floor, motionless, he walked past them, focused only on what was ahead.

Climbing up the stairs, he ventured through the corridor that led to the main dormitory lounge. Every soldier who stood in his way was either temporarily or permanently incapacitated. With each footstep, he left behind a trail of ice, as his breath fogged the air around him.

Finally, having reached the lounge, he carefully peered in through the smashed-in door. Cautiously walking in, keeping in line with the shadows, he took three steps into the room before the back of his head was met with shock.

As his knees buckled, he fell to the floor. Someone kicked him in the back, causing him to fall further forward into the room. One disembodied hand that was now in the moonlight was slowly lighting up a lantern.

Still on his knees, as he looked up, he finally saw the six soldiers emerging from the shadows.

"Muslim or Hindu?" growled one of the voices behind him.

"Muslim," he replied, head stinging from the blow.

"Where are the students hiding? Tell us and we will let you go," commanded another voice from his right.


"Then make your final prayers in 30 seconds."

As he placed his hands together, the closest soldier could simply see two circular tattoos on his palms. Fingers now intertwined – he dropped his forehead into his hands.

In just the ten seconds that had passed, the air around the hooded figure erupted into ice, forming a perimeter of ice spikes around his body, extending outward in the blink of an eye. With almost no time to react, the soldiers finally went silent.

Coughing, the man fell to the floor, exhausted. Eyes now closing, as his face met the floor, there were no more gunshots to wake him that night.

The story is set in the author's City of Magic universe. To learn more, contact jadurshohorbook@gmail.com


৪২ মিনিট আগে|মতামত

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