"Even the wildest fire can be guided… if one knows where to bind it."
The forest swallowed every sound the moment Arsh collapsed. His inner power, wild and radiant, had surged like a storm, lashing out at the servant as though some hidden beast had taken control of him. Both Arsh and the servant had thought another creature had descended upon them, its claws invisible, its breath heavy in the air. But before truth could reveal itself, a blur had cut through the chaos—a firm strike to Arsh's neck, swift and precise, dropping him into unconscious silence.
The servant staggered back, clutching his chest, eyes wide. "Who—?"
From the shadows stepped a tall man with a crooked smile and an almost careless gait. His tone was light, teasing, the way one speaks to an old acquaintance rather than an enemy. "Honestly, you looked like you were about to get eaten alive by the boy. And here I thought you had things under control."
The servant blinked hard, breathing ragged. "You? All this time… you've been watching?"
"Watching, laughing, yawning. Depends on the moment," the man said with a grin. He bent down and, with effortless strength, lifted Arsh over his shoulder. "He was drowning in that inner power. Good thing I showed up before he cooked you where you stood."
The servant, still shaken, muttered, "I didn't need your help."
"Oh, come now," the man replied, eyes glinting mischievously. "Don't play proud with me. You were seconds away from being skewered. Admit it—at least once in your life, you're glad I was here."
The servant glared but said nothing. His silence made the man chuckle even harder. "There it is. That stoic, hard face of yours. I swear, if you ever smiled naturally, the world might collapse. Anyway…" He jerked his chin toward Arjun, lying unconscious nearby. "Grab him. Hind Man doesn't like to be kept waiting."
The servant hesitated only a moment before obeying, lifting Arjun with careful strength. "Where are we taking them?"
"Into the deep," the man answered, his voice sing-song. "Where fire still dances and old stories wait to be told."
The two men moved together into the forest, their steps sinking into damp earth. Branches clawed overhead, vines dangled like ropes from unseen rafters, and every shadow seemed to watch them pass. The air grew heavier the deeper they went, carrying the scent of moss, smoke, and something older, something ancient. The servant adjusted Arjun's weight and finally broke the silence. "You talk too much."
"And you talk too little," the man shot back with a laugh. "It's why we make such a good pair. Yin, yang. Silence, chatter. See? Balance."
The servant shook his head, though his eyes betrayed the hint of a long familiarity. They were colleagues—two threads woven into Hind Man's shadow, bound by loyalty, even if one's tongue could never keep still.
At last, the oppressive trees parted to reveal a clearing. Firelight flickered there, golden and steady, fighting back the cold night. Hind Man sat by the flames, broad-shouldered and calm, his cloak draped around him like a mantle of night. A pot simmered above the fire, releasing the scent of herbs and charred meat into the air. He stirred it slowly with a wooden stick, his gaze never leaving the flames.
As the two men stepped into the clearing, Hind Man spoke without looking up. His voice was smooth, deep, resonant—like roots speaking through stone. "It's been a while since we made campfire."
The man carrying Arsh grinned wide, dropping into a seat across from the flames. "And as always, you make it sound like a reunion of ghosts."
Hind Man glanced up then, eyes catching the firelight as he finally looked at the boy slung over the man's shoulder. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, though whether it was humor or something darker, neither colleague could tell. "So, he is the one."
"Nearly roasted our friend here alive," the man said, jerking a thumb toward the servant. "I had to step in before it got messy."
The servant lowered Arjun gently to the ground near the fire, his face unreadable. Hind Man leaned back, watching the unconscious forms of Arsh and Arjun with the patience of a man who had been waiting far longer than he'd ever admit.
"The night grows restless," Hind Man murmured. "And the forest stirs. Bringing them here… was not chance."
The fire cracked, sparks snapping into the air like whispers. Hind Man's eyes lingered on Arsh, gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and quiet certainty. "Yes. It begins."
Arsh's eyes fluttered open, a haze of confusion clouding his vision. The ropes bit into his wrists and ankles, holding him firmly to the ground. Panic clawed at his chest as he tried to push himself upright, but the bonds were tight, unyielding. He strained, the memory of who he was—where he was—slipping like water through his fingers. "Wh… where am I? What—who—" his voice broke, desperate and unsteady.
A firm, familiar weight settled on his shoulder. Hind Man's hand, surprisingly warm despite the chill of the night, pressed down gently. His voice came, low and intimate, just enough for Arsh to hear: "Bring him outside."
Arsh blinked, trying to understand. Who was he asking? What did it mean? His mind spun, fragments of fear and memory colliding with one another. Nothing made sense. And then—a whisper, deeper than his own thoughts, resonated within him.
"Let me come outside," the inner voice murmured, velvet and dangerous, familiar yet foreign. A surge coursed through Arsh's body, a pulse of strength that made him shiver, making his muscles tense with power he could barely control. His chest heaved, his heart racing, as if the forest itself were responding to the command.
Hind Man leaned closer, his breath brushing Arsh's ear, voice a whisper of authority that seemed to command even the shadows. "Why are you helping this boy?"
The inner voice hesitated, and then surged again, stronger, almost defiant. Arsh felt it pressing against his own will, trying to break free, trying to take over. His body twitched, responding to the power he had never truly learned to master.
The servant, kneeling nearby to watch, furrowed his brow in confusion. "What… what is happening? He… he's awake, but—what's that?"
The other man, leaning against a tree with his usual casual posture, let out a short, amused sigh. "That," he said, gesturing vaguely toward Arsh, "is not him. That's his inner person—a manifestation of his power. Always there, always guarding him. The boy has no control over it. None. It protects, it acts, and sometimes it fights for him when he can't even remember his own name."
The servant swallowed hard, eyes wide. "So… it's… not Arsh? It's… something else?"
"Exactly," the man said simply, eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction. "And tonight, it almost consumed the servant. But thanks to me stepping in, we have him here… alive. For now."
Hind Man's amber eye watched Arsh closely, noting the subtle dance between boy and power. The ropes constraining him seemed almost symbolic now—a tether between chaos and control. "Soon," Hind Man whispered, more to the inner voice than to Arsh himself, "you will learn. But not yet. Tonight is only the beginning."
Arsh trembled, caught between fear, confusion, and the sudden rush of raw, untamed strength within him. He had no memory of asking for it, no understanding of what it was doing, yet it pulsed and throbbed as if alive. And somewhere, deep in the shadows of his mind, a spark of comprehension flickered—he was not alone.
The forest itself seemed to lean closer, holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Hind Man's amber eye narrowed, his fingers hovering just above Arsh's trembling form. The forest seemed to still itself, listening, waiting. With a barely perceptible motion, he began to weave his broken power—ancient, jagged, and unpredictable. Streams of energy flowed from him, unseen threads binding the surging force inside Arsh. It was as if he were constructing a hidden network, delicate and precise, running like pipelines beneath the surface of the boy's chaotic power. Each line connected, each lock reinforced, restraining the inner storm while allowing only the smallest trickle to leak through.
Arsh's body stiffened, muscles quivering as the restrained force pulsed through him. He tried to grasp it, to bend it to his will, but the control was subtle, intricate—a system too complex for him to command in his exhausted state. His resistance burned him out, and gradually, his lids drooped. The ropes, the forest, and the whispering power all faded as he sank into a deep, untroubled sleep.
In the quiet that followed, a faint rustle announced movement beside him. Arjun stirred, blinking against the dim firelight. Confusion clouded his gaze as he took in the clearing—the fire, the simmering pot, the broad figure of Hind Man standing nearby. "Who… who are you?" he croaked, his voice rough with sleep and questions.
Before anyone could answer, the servant stepped forward, hands deft and practiced. With a gentle tug and careful motions, he loosened Arjun's bonds, the ropes falling away with a soft snap. "Eat first," the servant instructed, handing him a small portion from the pot. "You'll need strength."
Arjun took the offered food, eyes darting between the two men. "What… what's going on? Why are we here?"
Hind Man's voice was low, calm, almost distant, but carried the weight of authority. "You are safe. For now. The boy is resting, and his power is… contained." He gestured briefly toward the spot where Arsh slept, bound only by invisible threads of energy. "There is much you do not yet understand."
The man who had carried Arsh chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Safe is relative. But yes, you're alive. That counts."
The servant added, quietly but firmly, "We are a small group of rebels. Working from the shadows, waiting for the right moment. You are welcome to stay, for now."
Arjun's brows furrowed, questions racing through his mind, but for the first time since the chaos had begun, a sense of calm settled over him. The fire crackled, the forest whispered around them, and the two boys—one asleep, one fed and free—found themselves in the midst of a network of rebels whose influence stretched unseen and quiet, preparing them for the trials yet to come.
The forest swallowed every sound the moment Arsh collapsed. His inner power, wild and radiant, had surged like a storm, lashing out at the servant as though some hidden beast had taken control of him. Both Arsh and the servant had thought another creature had descended upon them, its claws invisible, its breath heavy in the air. But before truth could reveal itself, a blur had cut through the chaos—a firm strike to Arsh's neck, swift and precise, dropping him into unconscious silence.
The servant staggered back, clutching his chest, eyes wide. "Who—?"
From the shadows stepped a tall man with a crooked smile and an almost careless gait. His tone was light, teasing, the way one speaks to an old acquaintance rather than an enemy. "Honestly, you looked like you were about to get eaten alive by the boy. And here I thought you had things under control."
The servant blinked hard, breathing ragged. "You? All this time… you've been watching?"
"Watching, laughing, yawning. Depends on the moment," the man said with a grin. He bent down and, with effortless strength, lifted Arsh over his shoulder. "He was drowning in that inner power. Good thing I showed up before he cooked you where you stood."
The servant, still shaken, muttered, "I didn't need your help."
"Oh, come now," the man replied, eyes glinting mischievously. "Don't play proud with me. You were seconds away from being skewered. Admit it—at least once in your life, you're glad I was here."
The servant glared but said nothing. His silence made the man chuckle even harder. "There it is. That stoic, hard face of yours. I swear, if you ever smiled naturally, the world might collapse. Anyway…" He jerked his chin toward Arjun, lying unconscious nearby. "Grab him. Hind Man doesn't like to be kept waiting."
The servant hesitated only a moment before obeying, lifting Arjun with careful strength. "Where are we taking them?"
"Into the deep," the man answered, his voice sing-song. "Where fire still dances and old stories wait to be told."
The two men moved together into the forest, their steps sinking into damp earth. Branches clawed overhead, vines dangled like ropes from unseen rafters, and every shadow seemed to watch them pass. The air grew heavier the deeper they went, carrying the scent of moss, smoke, and something older, something ancient. The servant adjusted Arjun's weight and finally broke the silence. "You talk too much."
"And you talk too little," the man shot back with a laugh. "It's why we make such a good pair. Yin, yang. Silence, chatter. See? Balance."
The servant shook his head, though his eyes betrayed the hint of a long familiarity. They were colleagues—two threads woven into Hind Man's shadow, bound by loyalty, even if one's tongue could never keep still.
At last, the oppressive trees parted to reveal a clearing. Firelight flickered there, golden and steady, fighting back the cold night. Hind Man sat by the flames, broad-shouldered and calm, his cloak draped around him like a mantle of night. A pot simmered above the fire, releasing the scent of herbs and charred meat into the air. He stirred it slowly with a wooden stick, his gaze never leaving the flames.
As the two men stepped into the clearing, Hind Man spoke without looking up. His voice was smooth, deep, resonant—like roots speaking through stone. "It's been a while since we made campfire."
The man carrying Arsh grinned wide, dropping into a seat across from the flames. "And as always, you make it sound like a reunion of ghosts."
Hind Man glanced up then, eyes catching the firelight as he finally looked at the boy slung over the man's shoulder. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, though whether it was humor or something darker, neither colleague could tell. "So, he is the one."
"Nearly roasted our friend here alive," the man said, jerking a thumb toward the servant. "I had to step in before it got messy."
The servant lowered Arjun gently to the ground near the fire, his face unreadable. Hind Man leaned back, watching the unconscious forms of Arsh and Arjun with the patience of a man who had been waiting far longer than he'd ever admit.
"The night grows restless," Hind Man murmured. "And the forest stirs. Bringing them here… was not chance."
The fire cracked, sparks snapping into the air like whispers. Hind Man's eyes lingered on Arsh, gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and quiet certainty. "Yes. It begins."
Arsh's eyes fluttered open, a haze of confusion clouding his vision. The ropes bit into his wrists and ankles, holding him firmly to the ground. Panic clawed at his chest as he tried to push himself upright, but the bonds were tight, unyielding. He strained, the memory of who he was—where he was—slipping like water through his fingers. "Wh… where am I? What—who—" his voice broke, desperate and unsteady.
A firm, familiar weight settled on his shoulder. Hind Man's hand, surprisingly warm despite the chill of the night, pressed down gently. His voice came, low and intimate, just enough for Arsh to hear: "Bring him outside."
Arsh blinked, trying to understand. Who was he asking? What did it mean? His mind spun, fragments of fear and memory colliding with one another. Nothing made sense. And then—a whisper, deeper than his own thoughts, resonated within him.
"Let me come outside," the inner voice murmured, velvet and dangerous, familiar yet foreign. A surge coursed through Arsh's body, a pulse of strength that made him shiver, making his muscles tense with power he could barely control. His chest heaved, his heart racing, as if the forest itself were responding to the command.
Hind Man leaned closer, his breath brushing Arsh's ear, voice a whisper of authority that seemed to command even the shadows. "Why are you helping this boy?"
The inner voice hesitated, and then surged again, stronger, almost defiant. Arsh felt it pressing against his own will, trying to break free, trying to take over. His body twitched, responding to the power he had never truly learned to master.
The servant, kneeling nearby to watch, furrowed his brow in confusion. "What… what is happening? He… he's awake, but—what's that?"
The other man, leaning against a tree with his usual casual posture, let out a short, amused sigh. "That," he said, gesturing vaguely toward Arsh, "is not him. That's his inner person—a manifestation of his power. Always there, always guarding him. The boy has no control over it. None. It protects, it acts, and sometimes it fights for him when he can't even remember his own name."
The servant swallowed hard, eyes wide. "So… it's… not Arsh? It's… something else?"
"Exactly," the man said simply, eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction. "And tonight, it almost consumed the servant. But thanks to me stepping in, we have him here… alive. For now."
Hind Man's amber eye watched Arsh closely, noting the subtle dance between boy and power. The ropes constraining him seemed almost symbolic now—a tether between chaos and control. "Soon," Hind Man whispered, more to the inner voice than to Arsh himself, "you will learn. But not yet. Tonight is only the beginning."
Arsh trembled, caught between fear, confusion, and the sudden rush of raw, untamed strength within him. He had no memory of asking for it, no understanding of what it was doing, yet it pulsed and throbbed as if alive. And somewhere, deep in the shadows of his mind, a spark of comprehension flickered—he was not alone.
The forest itself seemed to lean closer, holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Hind Man's amber eye narrowed, his fingers hovering just above Arsh's trembling form. The forest seemed to still itself, listening, waiting. With a barely perceptible motion, he began to weave his broken power—ancient, jagged, and unpredictable. Streams of energy flowed from him, unseen threads binding the surging force inside Arsh. It was as if he were constructing a hidden network, delicate and precise, running like pipelines beneath the surface of the boy's chaotic power. Each line connected, each lock reinforced, restraining the inner storm while allowing only the smallest trickle to leak through.
Arsh's body stiffened, muscles quivering as the restrained force pulsed through him. He tried to grasp it, to bend it to his will, but the control was subtle, intricate—a system too complex for him to command in his exhausted state. His resistance burned him out, and gradually, his lids drooped. The ropes, the forest, and the whispering power all faded as he sank into a deep, untroubled sleep.
In the quiet that followed, a faint rustle announced movement beside him. Arjun stirred, blinking against the dim firelight. Confusion clouded his gaze as he took in the clearing—the fire, the simmering pot, the broad figure of Hind Man standing nearby. "Who… who are you?" he croaked, his voice rough with sleep and questions.
Before anyone could answer, the servant stepped forward, hands deft and practiced. With a gentle tug and careful motions, he loosened Arjun's bonds, the ropes falling away with a soft snap. "Eat first," the servant instructed, handing him a small portion from the pot. "You'll need strength."
Arjun took the offered food, eyes darting between the two men. "What… what's going on? Why are we here?"
Hind Man's voice was low, calm, almost distant, but carried the weight of authority. "You are safe. For now. The boy is resting, and his power is… contained." He gestured briefly toward the spot where Arsh slept, bound only by invisible threads of energy. "There is much you do not yet understand."
The man who had carried Arsh chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Safe is relative. But yes, you're alive. That counts."
The servant added, quietly but firmly, "We are a small group of rebels. Working from the shadows, waiting for the right moment. You are welcome to stay, for now."
Arjun's brows furrowed, questions racing through his mind, but for the first time since the chaos had begun, a sense of calm settled over him. The fire crackled, the forest whispered around them, and the two boys—one asleep, one fed and free—found themselves in the midst of a network of rebels whose influence stretched unseen and quiet, preparing them for the trials yet to come.
[End of Chapter 66]