Rohak left Trishan's chambers with a storm brewing in his mind. The narrow corridors of the castle suddenly felt tighter, the torches on the walls flickering like warnings. He walked quickly but without direction, his thoughts drowning out every sound around him. Fear and confusion clawed at him from within.
He had not expected this. One moment, he was just a quiet observer in the power games of Rankriti's palace—assigned to carry messages, pour wine, and listen when no one thought he was listening. The next, he was being ordered to ride into the jaws of Jangal Mandala on a mission he barely understood, armed with nothing but a sigil and two mysterious letters.
He returned to his quarters, packed what little he had, and stepped out. A guard at the main gate handed him a horse. The animal snorted, sensing his unease. Rohak mounted it, barely feeling the stirrups under his feet or the reins in his hand. The castle gates creaked open behind him.
As he trotted down the stone-paved roads of Suryagadh, a hollow silence enveloped him. The streets were mostly empty at this hour, and the moon hung high, casting long shadows that flickered with every turn.
He was alone. Truly alone.
His mind wandered.
"I could leave," he thought. "Lohitpuri isn't that far. I could vanish into the forests, go back to the twins. They would hide me. I've done nothing wrong. Trishan would forget about me. Savignya won't care. And Vayodhara..."
A chill shot down his spine at the mere thought of her name.
Suddenly, a shadow stretched across the road. His horse stopped with a sharp snort. Rohak's head snapped up. A figure stood ahead, draped in black, motionless. Moonlight shimmered on the edges of a long cloak. The figure moved forward slowly and removed the hood.
Vayodhara.
His blood turned to ice.
Rohak dismounted without thinking. He dropped to his knees and bowed. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum of war. His body trembled—not from the cold, but from the sheer weight of her presence.
She walked towards him with deliberate grace. Every step echoed like a warning.
"I know what you're thinking, boy," she said, voice like polished steel. "Let me assure you—it is not a wise choice. You cannot escape. Even if you try, I will find you."
Her words struck like arrows. Rohak looked up, eyes wide.
"I... I wasn't thinking of leaving. I'm just... scared. Jangal Mandala... I've heard stories—"
"The stories are all true," she interrupted, her tone flat and cold. "And the thing you're looking for in there is worse than any of them."
She unsheathed a sword from her side. The moonlight danced along its curved blade.
Rohak flinched. His hands clenched the earth.
She extended the weapon, pointing it at him. "Stand up. Take it. It will serve you better than fear."
He hesitated, then slowly stood, reaching out to accept the blade. It was beautiful—finely forged, perfectly balanced, humming with a quiet power. The hilt felt warm in his hand.
"Do not mistake this for mercy," Vayodhara said, watching him closely. "I came here because you've seen things. Things I'd rather you hadn't. Savignya placed you close to Trishan to keep an eye on Arya. That much is obvious. But Arya is no longer yours to watch."
She stepped closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper, yet it struck harder than a shout.
"He belongs to me now. He takes orders from me. Speak of him, and I will carve out your tongue myself. Chase him, and you will disappear without a trace."
Rohak's lips trembled. He lowered his gaze to the road. "I won't say anything. Not to anyone."
"Good," she replied. Her eyes narrowed. "Unless you want to end up like him."
There was a flicker in her tone—something unspoken. Rohak didn't dare ask.
"I promise," he whispered. "I won't say anything about Arya ever again."
Vayodhara stepped past him. The edge of her cloak brushed his arm. Her presence pressed down like a mountain, smothering the last trace of rebellion in him.
She vanished into the night without another word. Rohak remained frozen for a moment, his breath shallow.
She had come for him. Personally. Not Trishan. Not a guard. Vayodhara herself. That meant something. Something terrifying.
He finally turned and mounted his horse again. His plan to escape—abandoned. The idea of reaching Lohitpuri, of warning the twins, of telling them what he had seen... it was gone.
He pulled out the satchel and took out the papers Trishan had given him. Directions. Symbols. A crude map marked with ink. Then, two sealed letters.
One bore Savignya's seal.
The other—his own name.
He stared at it for a long time.
The road to Jangal Mandala stretched ahead, long and shadowed. Behind him, the castle lights of Suryagadh flickered like distant stars.
And in front of him, the darkness waited.
He pressed his heels gently against the horse's side, and the beast began to move.
Rohak didn't look back.