Asha ran blindly through the back arch of the temple ruins, bare feet slapping wet stone, then mud, then fallen leaves. Rain still poured, but the canopy of trees thickened overhead, muffling the thunder to a low growl. Behind her the sounds of battle faded — Vikram’s roars, the wet crunch of machete on bone, the unearthly moans of the risen women. Then silence. Sudden. Heavy. She didn’t stop to listen. Didn’t dare.

The path sloped downward sharply. She slipped, slid on her ass for several feet, scraping skin raw. Stood again. Kept moving. Heart hammering so hard it hurt her ribs. Boobs bounced painfully with every step; nipples scraped by low branches, already bruised purple. Between her legs everything burned — pussy swollen and leaking, ass tender from the pillar fuck, thighs sticky with rain, cum, pee, and now fresh blood from scratches.