Tanthai followed quietly behindSangchai, trying not to trip over the thick roots that twisted across the forest floor. His head was pounding. His body ached with every step. But more than that, his heart was heavy—with confusion, fear, and something he couldn't name.
The forest didn't feel like any forest he had ever seen.
It was too… alive.
Strange birds called from above, sounding like whispers. Bright flowers opened and closed with no wind. Even the trees seemed to watch him as he passed.
Sangchai moved quickly, barefoot, his orange monk robe barely touching the ground. He didn't speak. He didn't turn.
He just walked with calm, like he knew exactly where they were going.
Tanthai glanced again at the glowing serpent mark on his arm. It had stopped moving, but the warmth was still there.He tried to remember the last few hours—if they were hours at all.
The shrine.
The crash.
The green light.
The voice.
His fingers brushed the mark.
"Why me?" he whispered.
Sangchai finally stopped.
They stood before a quiet pool of water, surrounded by thick bamboo. The air smelled of rain and earth. A carved wooden post stood beside the pool, covered in faded cloth and old offerings—coins, flower petals, and a small bronze bell.
Sangchai turned to him. "You are awake now. Truly awake."
Tanthai blinked. "I don't understand.Where am I? What is this place?"
"This land is called Sukhothai. But not the one in your books or museums. This is the living heart of it—before it was history."
"That's… impossible." He took a step back. "I had an accident. I hit my head. This is a coma dream. That has to be it."
Sangchai gave a small, sad smile.
"Perhaps. But if it is only a dream, why does your arm carry a mark that
burns?"
Tanthai didn't answer. His breath caught in his chest.
Sangchai knelt beside the pool and touched the water.
"The world you came from… It runs forward like a river. But rivers have many streams. Some split. Some circle back."
Tanthai sat on a rock, shaking his head. "I don't belong here. I was just a kid. A high school student. I wasn'tmmeant to be anything important."
"Yet you touched the shrine. It opened. And now the Naga knows your name."
That name again.
Tanthai looked up. "What is the Naga?
You keep saying it like I should understand."
Sangchai stood, eyes steady. "The Naga is the guardian of time and water. A spirit older than any king. Her voice runs beneath rivers. Her eyes see what is forgotten."
Tanthai felt cold. "And you think… she brought me here?"
"I don't think," Sangchai said. "I know."
They stood in silence. A distant drumbeat echoed through the jungle—soft, like a heartbeat.
Sangchai looked toward the sound. "We must move. There are others in this forest who do not want the heir to return."
Tanthai frowned. "What heir?"
Sangchai didn't answer.
The path grew darker. The trees closer.
Tanthai kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting more hunters to appear. His legs were tired, and his thoughts were heavy. Still, he followed.
After nearly an hour, the trees opened to a small clearing. In the center stood a house made from bamboo and dried leaves. A soft fire burned outside it, and a tall, quiet figure stood nearby, sharpening a curved blade.
The man turned.
He looked only a few years older than Tanthai, but his eyes were hard. Focused. He wore a short tunic and a sash tied around his waist. Across his back was a bow beautiful and strange, carved from dark wood and decorated with tiny white stones.
"Tanthai," Sangchai said calmly, "this is Tanthai the warrior."
Tanthai blinked. "Wait—his name is also Tanthai?"
The archer gave a small nod. "It means 'free mind.' Many boys are given this name. But only one of us is carrying accurse."
Sangchai motioned for them to sit bythe fire. The archer handed Tanthai a bamboo cup filled with warm water and honey.
Tanthai sipped slowly. His hands still trembled.
"What do you know about me?" he asked, his voice low.
The archer stared into the fire. "I saw your fall. From the sky. A flame through the trees. That mark…" he pointed at Tanthai's arm, "I've only seen it once before. On a corpse in the shrine of the river queen."
Tanthai's stomach twisted.
Sangchai spoke. "That corpse was the last Naga heir. He died trying to stop what is coming."
Tanthai looked between them. "You think I'm… what? Reborn?"
"We don't think," the archer said. "We see."
Tanthai stood up suddenly. "I don't want this. I didn't ask for any of this! I just wanted to leave home, clear mymhead—now I'm stuck in the past being told I'm part of some prophecy?!"
His voice cracked.
Sangchai stood calmly. "I know it hurts. But you were chosen."
Tanthai's hands curled into fists.
"Chosen by who?! A god? A curse? Why me?"
Silence.
And then another voice, soft and
clear:
"Maybe because you still care enough
to ask."
Tanthai turned.
A girl stepped out from the trees,carrying a pouch of dried herbs and scrolls. Her long black hair was tied back with twine, and her arms were marked with patterns drawn from mud and leaf ink.
She looked brave and tired—and kind.
"This is Mia," Sangchai said. "She knows this forest better than anyone."
Mia gave a respectful nod. "I'm not a warrior. But I can heal. And I can guide you."
Tanthai sat down slowly.
He didn't have answers. But now he had… people.
And even though he didn't know them,something deep in his chest—something he hadn't felt in a long time—stirred.
Not fear.
Hope.
That night, as the jungle slept,Tanthai lay awake beside the fire. He looked up at the stars. They were brighter here. Closer.
He rolled up his sleeve and stared at the mark again. The serpent's eyes seemed to glow with the firelight.
He touched it.
He didn't know what it meant.
But for the first time since waking here, he wanted to find out.
End of Chapter 2