Uday remained frozen behind the crumbling shrine wall, his heart hammering against his ribs. The masked figure's gaze – or what he perceived as its gaze through those dark, empty holes – felt like a physical weight, pinning him in place. How could it know? Was his unique nature so readily apparent? Or was this some kind of trick, a common greeting in this blighted age for any lone wanderer?
Kaelen's voice was a low growl in his mind. "Do not be cowed, Uday. It has revealed its knowledge, but not its intent. It could be a scout for something worse, or merely an opportunist testing your resolve."
It speaks of shadows, Lyra mused, her voice tinged with a scholarly curiosity that seemed to momentarily override her usual sorrow. The shadow of the Resentment you carry is indeed vast. Perhaps it is sensitive to such things. Many ancient orders were.
Vairagya's cold whisper was, for once, almost practical. All beings communicate. This one uses words. The meaning is irrelevant; its potential threat is not.
The masked figure took a slow, deliberate step towards him, its movements unnervingly fluid, almost graceful despite its ragged attire. The book was still held carefully in its gloved hands.
"I am Ratta," the whispering voice continued, still emanating from the mask. "A humble collector of forgotten things. These plains… they offer much to those who know where to look, and are not afraid of the dust of ages, or the company one sometimes keeps." The last words seemed to carry a subtle emphasis, the dark eyeholes of the mask still fixed on Uday's presumed location.
Ratta. The name was as unreadable as the mask. A scavenger, as Kaelen had guessed? But one who spoke of shadows and voices?
Uday knew he couldn't remain hidden forever. Kaelen was right; his inaction could be interpreted as weakness. He took a shallow breath, the taste of ash still coating his tongue.
"What do you want?" Uday called out, his voice rougher than he intended, betraying none of the turmoil within. He tried to inject a note of caution, of wary strength he didn't entirely feel.
Ratta stopped, perhaps ten paces from the ruined shrine. The figure tilted its head again, a bird-like gesture that was strangely incongruous with its unsettling appearance.
"Want?" The whisper was soft, carrying easily on the desolate wind. "An interesting question in an age where most only need. I seek knowledge, Walker of Many Paths. Stories. Fragments of what was. And sometimes… I offer the same. For a price, of course. Everything in Kali Yuga has its price."
The figure's stillness was unnerving. It exuded no obvious threat, yet Uday felt a profound sense of the unknown, of something ancient and perhaps dangerous hidden behind that impassive wooden face. This was no mindless beast. This was something else entirely.
"Careful, Uday," Kaelen warned. "Traders in secrets are often traders in betrayal. Learn what it knows, but offer nothing of yourself freely."
It speaks of stories, Lyra added, a flicker of interest in her tone. Knowledge, even in fragments, can be a light in this darkness. But the General is right. Wisdom is often guarded by those with… complex motives.
Uday considered his options. He could remain hidden, try to slip away. But Ratta clearly knew he was there, and knew something of his nature. He could attack, but the figure showed no open hostility, and Uday was still drained from his earlier encounter with the Madness. That left… talking.
He rose slowly from behind the crumbling wall, stepping out into the gray twilight of the plains. He kept his hands visible, open, though every instinct screamed at him to be ready to fight. He felt incredibly exposed, his tattered rags offering little protection against the elements, let alone a potential foe. He was acutely aware of his human fragility, especially after the recent, terrifying surge of inhuman power.
Ratta did not react with surprise, its masked face remaining fixed on him. The dark eyeholes seemed to absorb the faint light, giving nothing away.
"You are… not like the others I have encountered on these plains," Uday said, choosing his words carefully.
A sound like dry leaves rustling came from the mask, perhaps a chuckle. "Few are, Walker. Most are either mad, starving, or already dead and simply haven't realized it. You… you are an echo of a cataclysm. A living vessel of a forgotten world's dying breath. Such things are… rare. And often valuable."
The words, spoken in that soft, sibilant whisper, were far too knowing. Uday felt a prickle of unease, a feeling that this Ratta saw far more than it let on.
"Valuable?" Uday repeated, his voice tight. "Valuable to whom? And for what?" The exhaustion still clung to him, but a new kind of tension, sharp and wary, was taking its place. The encounter with the carrion eaters had been primal, a fight for survival. This… this felt different, more like a game of unseen currents and hidden meanings.
Ratta's masked head tilted slightly again. "To those who understand value beyond mere coin or sustenance, Walker. To those who trade in whispers, in forgotten lore, in the echoes of power. You carry a library of suffering within you, a testament to an age of folly. Such… experiences… have a unique resonance."
The description – "a library of suffering" – was chillingly accurate. Uday felt a fresh wave of the internal chorus, a murmur of agreement from the countless souls, as if Ratta's words had stirred them.
"A dangerous game this one plays," Kaelen's voice was a low growl. "It speaks of you as a commodity, Uday. Be wary. It may seek to exploit what you are."
Or perhaps, Lyra countered softly, it merely sees the truth of your burden, and recognizes its… weight. Not all who acknowledge suffering wish to exploit it.
"And what is your interest in this… 'value'?" Uday pressed, trying to keep his tone even, though his heart was thumping a nervous rhythm. He took another small step forward, a subconscious attempt to assert some control over the situation, to not feel entirely like prey.
Ratta's gloved hand gestured almost dismissively with the small, leather-bound book it held. "My interests are varied, Walker. I collect. I observe. Sometimes, I facilitate. The currents of Kali Yuga are treacherous, but they also churn up forgotten treasures from the wreckage of past ages. Like this." Ratta held the book out slightly, though not in a gesture of offering. "A fragment of a lost Veda, perhaps. Or a heretic's forgotten lament. Who can say, until it is studied?"
The figure paused, then its masked gaze seemed to sharpen on Uday. "You, too, are a fragment, are you not? A piece of something vast and broken, now given a strange new life. Perhaps you seek answers about your own nature? About the voices you carry? About the path that lies before you in this dying world?"
The questions hit uncomfortably close to the turmoil within Uday. Answers. He craved them, even as he feared what they might reveal. He had no memory, no identity beyond the name Lyra had given him and the crushing weight of the Resentment.
"What if I do?" Uday asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The dry, rustling chuckle came again from behind the mask. "Then perhaps Ratta can be of service. For a price, of course." The figure's posture shifted slightly, becoming less that of a passive observer and more like a merchant about to display their wares. "I have… items. Fragments of lore. Whispers gathered on the wind. Things that might aid one such as you. And you, Walker of Many Paths, you possess something I might find… interesting in exchange."
"A trap," Kaelen stated flatly. "It will offer trinkets for your soul, Uday. Or information that leads to greater peril. Do not trust it."
Knowledge always has a price, General, Lyra mused. The question is whether the price is worth the wisdom gained. And whether the merchant is honest.
Uday felt torn. The prospect of answers, of understanding even a fraction of what he was, was a powerful lure. But Kaelen's warning resonated with the inherent distrust this desolate world had already begun to instill in him. And Ratta's impassive mask, its unsettlingly knowing words… it all felt like walking a razor's edge.
"What kind of… price?" Uday asked, his hand instinctively moving towards his forearm, where the carrion eater's teeth had grazed him. The wound still throbbed, a dull reminder of his vulnerability.
Ratta seemed to follow the almost imperceptible movement. "Prices vary, Walker. Sometimes it is a memory – a fragment of the past you carry. Sometimes it is a service – a task undertaken in these blighted lands. Sometimes… it is a choice. A decision that might alter the path you walk." The whispering voice was smooth, almost hypnotic. "Tell me, Uday – for that is what the sorrowful one within calls you, is it not? – what is it you seek most urgently in this moment? Perhaps we can start there."
The direct use of his new name, and the reference to Lyra, sent another jolt through Uday. This Ratta was no mere scavenger. It was something far more perceptive, far more… aware.
His mind raced. What did he seek most urgently? Survival was paramount, but that was a given. Beyond that, the gnawing void of his own identity, the crushing weight of the Resentment, the terrifying potential of the Madness… these were the immediate storms.
"Understanding," Uday said, the word tasting of ash and a desperate hope. "I need to understand… what I am. What this power is. And why… why this world is as it is." He gestured vaguely at the desolate plains around them.
Ratta's masked head gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. "Understanding. A noble pursuit, Uday. And a costly one. The truths of Kali Yuga are often… unpalatable." The figure shifted its weight, the tattered cloak rustling. "I possess certain… insights. Glimpses into the nature of things. For instance…"
Ratta paused, and the dark eyeholes of the mask seemed to focus on something beyond Uday, something in the middle distance. "That orange glow you travel towards. You believe it to be a beacon? A destination?"
Uday frowned. "Kaelen… the voice within… he said it was a sign of structure. Civilization, perhaps."
"Ah, the General," Ratta's whisper held a new note, perhaps of amusement, perhaps of something else. "He sees the world through the lens of conflict, of strongholds and battle lines. Understandable, given his past. But not all structures offer sanctuary, Uday. Some are merely… prettier cages."
The cryptic words sent a fresh wave of unease through Uday.
"What do you mean?"
"That glow," Ratta continued, ignoring his question directly, "emanates from what was once a place of great solace, a hermitage nestled at the foot of the Deva-peaks, known as Badarika. A place of meditation, of seeking liberation."
Badarika Hermitage? Lyra's voice was a soft breath of surprise and longing. Such places were said to be touched by the Devas themselves…
"A hermitage?" Kaelen's voice was laced with suspicion. "In this age? More likely a trap, or a den of deluded fools clinging to forgotten rites."
Ratta's masked head turned back to Uday. "The General is not entirely wrong. Kali Yuga twists all things, Uday. Even places of peace. Badarika still stands, or a shadow of it. And within its walls, there is indeed one who might offer you… answers. A woman named Elara. The Custodian, some call her. She has… a unique perspective on this age, and on beings such as yourself."
Elara. The Custodian. The name, like Ratta's earlier pronouncements, resonated with a strange familiarity, as if plucked from the depths of the shared memories he carried.
"This Elara… she can help me?" Uday asked, a flicker of desperate hope igniting within him.
"Help?" Ratta's dry chuckle rustled again. "Perhaps. Or perhaps she will merely offer you a different set of chains. Everyone has an agenda, Uday, even those who cloak themselves in wisdom or sorrow. But yes, she holds knowledge you seek. Knowledge about the Resentment. About the Asuras. Perhaps even about the… potential… within you." The last word was drawn out, a subtle emphasis that made Uday's skin crawl.
"And the price for this information?" Uday asked, his voice wary.
"A small service," Ratta said smoothly. "There is a ruin, not far from your path to Badarika. An old watchtower, a relic of a forgotten war. Within it, something I desire. A small, insignificant trinket to most, but of… sentimental value… to a collector like myself. Retrieve it for me, and I will share what I know of Elara, of Badarika, and perhaps a warning or two about the path ahead."
Ratta extended a gloved hand, not in friendship, but as if sealing a bargain already struck. "A simple task, Uday. A small price for understanding, no?"
The offer hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Uday looked from Ratta's outstretched hand to the impassive mask, then glanced instinctively towards the distant orange glow. Badarika. Elara. Knowledge. The words were a potent lure. But Kaelen's distrust was a cold weight in his mind, and Lyra's quiet caution echoed it. A "trinket" of "sentimental value" in this age could mean anything from a harmless relic to a cursed artifact.
"This watchtower," Uday began, his voice carefully neutral, "is it… guarded?"
Ratta's head tilted. "The plains are never entirely unguarded, Walker. Remnants of the old world linger. Some are mindless, some are… territorial. The tower itself holds echoes. Whether they pose a threat to one such as you… that is for you to discover. Consider it part of the journey towards understanding." The sibilant whisper was maddeningly vague.
"It evades the question," Kaelen growled. "A clear sign of deceit. The tower is likely a deathtrap, and this Ratta means to send you into it for its own gain, caring little if you return."
Or, Lyra offered, her voice a thread of contemplation, it speaks the truth of this age. All places hold danger. And sometimes, Uday, the path to knowledge is fraught with peril. The question is whether the potential reward justifies the risk.
Uday felt the familiar internal tug-of-war. Kaelen urged aggression or outright refusal. Lyra counseled caution but acknowledged the allure of knowledge. And Vairagya, the cold voice of nihilism, whispered faintly, All paths lead to the same end. Choose quickly, or not at all. It matters little.
He needed more. "What kind of trinket?" Uday asked, trying to glean some clue from Ratta's reaction.
The mask remained impassive. "A small thing. Easily carried. Of no use to warriors or scholars, I assure you. Merely… a piece of the past I wish to preserve. Its nature will be apparent when you find it." Ratta's gloved hand remained extended. "Do we have an accord, Uday? Time, like the ash, settles on all things. And opportunities, once lost, rarely return in Kali Yuga."
The pressure to decide was immense. To refuse was to continue wandering in ignorance, guided only by Kaelen's often brutal pragmatism and the distant, uncertain promise of the orange glow. To accept was to step into an unknown danger at the behest of a being he had every reason to distrust, for a reward that was equally unknown.
But Ratta had offered names – Elara, Badarika. Names that resonated. Names that promised something more than the endless gray of the plains.
He thought of the carrion eater he had spared. Kaelen had called him a fool. Perhaps he was. But that choice had felt… his own. This felt different. This felt like a transaction, a step into the complex, treacherous currents of this ruined world.
"If I do this," Uday said slowly, his gaze meeting the dark eyeholes of the mask, "and I return with your… trinket… you will tell me everything you know about Elara and Badarika? No tricks? No further prices?"
Ratta's head inclined. "Ratta is a collector, Uday, not a common brigand. My word, once given, is my bond. The knowledge will be yours. And perhaps," the whisper grew even softer, "a little something extra, if your efforts prove… illuminating."
The implication of "illuminating" was unsettling, but the promise of information was too strong to ignore. He was a newborn in this world, desperate for any scrap of understanding.
He took a deep breath. "Where is this watchtower?"
A faint, dry rustle, almost like a sigh of satisfaction, seemed to come from Ratta. The gloved hand finally lowered. "It lies a half-day's walk to the north-east, nestled among a cluster of jagged, obsidian-like rock formations. You cannot miss it; it stands taller than the rest, a broken tooth against the sky. The trinket is within its highest chamber. Be wary of the echoes, Uday. Some memories have claws."
With that, Ratta produced a small, rolled-up piece of what looked like dried hide from within its rags. "A crude map. It will guide you. Return here when you have what I seek." The figure offered the map.
Uday hesitated for only a moment before taking it. The hide was brittle, the markings upon it faded and strange.
"Go now, Uday," Ratta whispered. "The orange glow of Badarika will still be there when you return. Or it will not. Such is the nature of things in this age."
Without another word, the masked figure turned and, with that same unnervingly fluid grace, began to walk away, not towards the orange glow, but in a different direction, eventually blending back into the gray desolation as if it were a phantom of the plains itself.
Uday watched Ratta disappear, the crude map clutched in his hand. He felt Kaelen's disapproval, a cold knot in his gut. He felt Lyra's cautious hope, a fragile warmth. And he felt his own profound uncertainty.
He had made another choice. And now, he had a task. A direction, albeit one given by a creature of shadows and secrets.
He looked at the map, then towards the north-east, where the obsidian formations supposedly lay. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of more than just his own weariness, he began to walk.