The night spread its dark veil across the land, yet Veer's heart was anything but calm. The clash at the Iron Valley still echoed in his ears—the cries of the wounded, the roars of warriors, the flash of steel under fire. He sat alone by the riverbank, washing the crimson stains from his hands, though he knew no water could cleanse the weight pressing upon his chest.
"Why must every victory feel like a loss?" Veer muttered, his voice barely louder than the flowing current.
The Vakya system pulsed faintly in his mind, as if acknowledging his turmoil. Strength brings burden. Leadership brings scars.
He closed his eyes. For the first time, he allowed himself to breathe as a boy, not a leader. Yet fate had long abandoned his childhood. Every step had led him here—to carry the hopes of tribes, to bear the curses of enemies, and to defy kings who thought themselves gods.
Suddenly, a soft rustle of leaves broke his solitude. Veer's hand instinctively went to the dagger at his waist. But then, he heard a familiar voice.
"You look more like a shadow than a king tonight."
It was Aditi. She stepped from the darkness, her hair gleaming under the silver moonlight. She had fought bravely in the valley, her arrows claiming foes as if guided by destiny itself. Now, her eyes carried both fire and sorrow.
Veer sighed. "A king? Not yet. Perhaps never. At times, I feel like I'm only dragging everyone into the flames with me."
Aditi knelt beside him, her gaze firm. "And yet they follow you, Veer. Not because they're blind, but because they see what you don't."
Veer turned toward her, a bitter smile curving his lips. "And what is that?"
"That you don't fight for power. You fight because you cannot stand chains—on yourself, or on anyone else. That's why the tribes rally. That's why I stay."
Her words sank into him like arrows, but not to wound—to steady. For a long while, they sat in silence, listening to the river's song. Then, from the shadows, the elders of the Nine Tribes approached. Their torches flickered like small stars, casting long shadows on the ground.
Elder Rudra, his voice deep as thunder, spoke first. "Veer, the tribes have spoken. The war ahead will not be one battle, but many. If you are to lead, the bond between us must be forged not of words, but of oath."
Another elder stepped forward, placing a carved staff in the ground. "The Oathfire. Lit only when a leader rises who may unite us all."
The tribe members formed a circle, each placing wood and offerings upon the pile at the center. The fire was struck, and the flames roared to life, painting the night in gold and crimson.
Rudra's eyes bore into Veer. "Kneel, boy. If you take this oath, your blood, soul, and destiny will no longer be yours alone. Do you swear to lead not for yourself, but for all?"
Veer felt the pull of destiny stronger than ever. The Vakya system thrummed within him, whispering in voices older than time. A king is not crowned by gold, but by fire. Speak, and the world will remember.
His knees touched the earth. His palms pressed together. He raised his voice so all could hear.
"I, Veer, child of no name, devotee of Lord Shiva, swear upon these flames. I shall not raise my sword for greed, nor bow my head to tyranny. I swear to unite the tribes as brothers and sisters, to guard the weak, and to strike down those who bring chains upon free men. Until my breath leaves me, I am bound—to them, to this land, to this oath."
The fire flared higher, as if the heavens themselves answered. The Vakya system pulsed once more:
[New Path Unlocked: Oathbound Sovereign][Authority +20 | Charisma +15 | Unity Skill Acquired]
A wave of power surged through Veer's veins. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the enormity of the vow he had spoken. The tribes erupted into chants, voices rising like thunder rolling across mountains.
But amid the fire and cries of loyalty, Veer's eyes caught a flicker of shadow. At the edge of the flames stood a hooded figure, watching with a gaze sharp as a dagger. Their presence felt wrong—like oil upon water.
When Veer stepped forward, the figure vanished into the trees.
Aditi noticed his glance. "What is it?"
"Nothing yet," Veer said quietly, though unease coiled in his chest. "But the oath has lit more than just fire—it has drawn eyes. Some friendly, some not."
The night carried on with celebration. Songs rose, drums echoed, and for a brief moment, the tribes felt united as one. Yet Veer stood apart, staring into the flames.
He had taken the oath. He had bound himself to destiny. But oaths, he knew, were not just promises—they were chains as well. The question that lingered was not whether he could uphold them, but how much of himself he would lose in doing so.
The Vakya whispered again, almost like a riddle:
"A king's oath is fire. It warms, it guides, it burns. In time, will you be its master… or its ash?"
Veer closed his eyes. Tomorrow, battles would come again. Enemies would rise stronger. But tonight, beneath the oathfire, he was no longer just Veer the orphan. He was Veer, Oathbound. A boy who had sworn to become more than a man. A boy who had sworn to become a king.