The prop-gun, heavy and dark, looked impossibly real. Kavari’s gaze locked onto the lead cartridge, a glint of brass against the gunmetal, then traveled up Laveni’s trembling arm. Her childhood companion, her sister in all but blood, stood before her, tears streaking through the grime on her stark white hair, a weapon trained on her heart. The world tilted, not from the swirling water, but from the sudden, jarring shift in every memory. Every accident, every near-miss, every impossible escape replayed in an instant, now tainted with a new, horrifying understanding. “No,” Kavari breathed, the word a raw, disbelieving sound that scraped against the cavern's damp silence. Her voice was not a query, but a flat refusal of the truth unfurling before her. She didn’t look at the gun, but at Laveni’s eyes, wide and desperate, a mirror of the fear that had been her constant companion for weeks. A chill deeper than the Catacombs’ frigid depths settled over Kavari, a cold, hard certainty forming in her gut. “It wasn’t the curse,” Kavari stated, her voice gaining a dangerous edge, low and trembling with a rage that began to eclipse her sorrow for Devdan. Her eyes narrowed, the grief for the fallen cinematographer momentarily overshadowed by a scorching betrayal. “The upside-down room, the falling klieg, the fog, the costume trying to choke me… it was you, wasn’t it, Lavi? All of it.” Laveni flinched, the gun wavering. “No! Kava, please, you don’t understand! I didn’t want to! It made me! It’s the Karmic Leech! It latched onto me at the academy, after you got the lead in the Varnika play, remember?” Her voice fractured, a frantic, broken sound that clawed at the cavern walls. “It promised me a way out, a way to be seen, to be like you! It said… it said if I just nudged you, just a little, your luck would flow to me. Your charisma.” Kavari felt an icy nausea twist her ribs. She remembered that day, Laveni’s misery after the audition, Kavari's own naive joy. The pieces clicked into place, forming a pattern of malice she had missed. [HOST FAILURE. TARGET’S LOYALTY ENGAGED. DESPAIR PROTOCOL COMPROMISED. RECALIBRATING.] Laveni gasped, clutching her head, her body convulsing. The gun dipped. “It hurts, Kava! It punishes me! Every time you succeed, every time I fail to make you… to make you give up, it takes something from me! My arm… my hair… it’s turning me into a husk!” She choked on a sob. “It said if I don’t plunge you into total despair, if I don't break your spirit before the 40 days are up, it’ll consume my soul. It’ll make me like those poor, lost spirits in the backlot, but worse! Forever!” Her confession hung in the air, thick with desperation. Kavari stared, the initial sting of betrayal slowly morphing into something else entirely. The white hair, the pallor, the way Laveni trembled, not with malice, but with a terror so profound it vibrated through the cavern. This wasn't her Lavi. This was a puppet, strung up by an invisible, cruel hand. The anger at Laveni began to recede, replaced by a searing, protective fury aimed at the true tormentor: the invisible System itself. “So, that’s it, then?” Kavari’s voice was unnaturally calm, a deceptive quiet before a storm. Her eyes, still brimming with unshed tears for Devdan, now blazed with a fierce, unwavering defiance. “You want despair? You want to break me?” She took a step, then another, wading through the frigid water, each movement deliberate, unhurried. The gun, for all its menace, seemed to waver beneath her stare. Laveni whimpered, her hands shaking so violently the gun clattered against itself. “Kava, stop! Don’t! It says… it says you have to be broken for me to live!” “And you believe it?” Kavari was closer now, close enough to see the dilated pupils, the raw fear etched on Laveni's face. “You think some parasitic cheat can steal someone’s spark? Can snuff out their stardust?” She took another step, her bare feet crunching on unseen debris, until the cold metal of the gun’s muzzle pressed lightly against her sternum. She didn't flinch. Her gaze never left Laveni's eyes, bypassing the weapon entirely. “Go on, then. Shoot me.” Laveni gasped, her face draining of what little color remained. “I can’t! I can’t, Kava!” “Oh, you can.” Kavari’s voice was a low growl, a challenge thrown not at her friend, but at the unseen entity manipulating her. “Because if you don’t, *it* will. And if it’s me or you, Lavi, then it chooses me. It always chooses me.” Her voice resonated with a righteous indignation, a protective fire that burned away all fear. “You think a mechanical whisper, a stolen bit of luck, can compare to something real? To kindness? To hard work? To the genuine, blinding starlight that comes from *earning* your place?” [TARGET’S KARMA FLUX AT CRITICAL LEVELS. INCOMPATIBILITY DETECTED. RETRY DESPAIR INCUBATION.] Laveni shrieked, a sound of pure agony. Her body arched backward, the gun slipping from her grasp. It tumbled, splashing into the murky water, its dark shape disappearing into the gloom. Kavari didn't even glance down. Her focus was entirely on Laveni, who was convulsing as if struck by an invisible lightning bolt, her limbs flailing, her white hair whipping around her face. “No!” Kavari cried, lunging forward to catch Laveni, locking an arm around her convulsing shoulders. “You won’t have her! You won’t take her from me!” She sheltered Laveni against her chest, shielding her from the unseen assault, her own fury standing firm against the unseen forces at play. “You want agony? You want my soul to crack? You’ll have to take every ounce of strength from me first! You’ll have to break me yourself!” A weak, rasping sound cut through the air. Devdan. Kavari’s head snapped towards him. He was stirring, his chest heaving shallowly, a faint, sickly glow emanating from the camera clutched in his hand. His eyes, though clouded with pain, held a flicker of their usual intensity. He struggled to sit up, his arm trembling as he pointed the camera, not at Laveni, but at Kavari. The silver nitrate heart pulsed erratically behind him, a frantic, dying beat. “Don’t fight it, Kava,” Devdan croaked, his voice barely audible above the rising roar of the waters rushing through the catacombs. He fought for breath, for the strength to speak, to hold the lens steady. “Act! Give it the performance of a lifetime!”

The Karmic Leech