The jungle's shadows deepened as Lakshya moved on, guided by the faint pulse of the banyan token and the lingering hum from the Silent Mandala's gift.
Every step brought a metallic tang to the air — unnatural in this wild place.
By dusk, the trees thinned into a clearing littered with iron scales the size of shields. They lay half-buried in the soil, dulled by rust but still humming with some hidden current. In the center, a coiled shape lay sleeping — or waiting.
The Iron Serpent was unlike any beast Lakshya had seen. Its body was forged of overlapping plates, etched with script so ancient it seemed older than stone. Eyes of molten amber flicked open the moment he entered the clearing.
"Another seeker," the serpent's voice rang — not in the air, but directly into his skull, stronger than even the Mandala's whispers. "You carry the scent of the banyan, the silence of the lotus… but you still lack the weight of the earth."
Lakshya met its gaze without flinching. "And you intend to give it to me?"
The serpent's laughter was a grinding of chains.
"Nothing is given. Only traded."
It shifted, uncoiling enough to circle him once. The iron plates scraped against each other, each movement throwing sparks.
"I will offer you a fragment of my power — strength to anchor your will, to crush what stands before you. But in return…"
It lowered its massive head until its eyes were level with his.
"You will owe me a memory."
Lakshya narrowed his eyes. "A memory?"
"Not any memory. Your brightest one. The moment that shapes you the most. You will still live without it… but you will never remember why you became who you are."
It was not a casual threat. Lakshya could feel the weight of the bargain pressing on him. The serpent's power was real — each scale radiated force like a blacksmith's hammer at the peak of a swing. With it, he could become far stronger, far faster.
But the price…
He thought of his past lives, his rebirth, the faces that mattered — and he realized the serpent's trick. Power without memory was like a sword without a hand to wield it.
He straightened. "You bargain like a thief, serpent. But I will make you another offer."
The serpent stilled, intrigued.
Lakshya's voice was steady. "You give me your power, and I will give you not a memory — but the promise of a memory yet to be. The day I stand before the throne that rules beyond realms, I will call your name and carve it into the seat itself. Your existence will outlast even your body."
The clearing held its breath.
Then, the serpent's eyes blazed hotter.
"A dangerous offer, mortal. Promises are harder to break than memories… very well."
It lunged — not to attack, but to strike its head against his chest. Lakshya felt the shock tear through him, and molten iron seemed to coil inside his muscles, binding his bones in unyielding strength. His arms felt like they could bend steel; his feet pressed into the earth with the weight of mountains.
The serpent withdrew, its body already dissolving into rust and dust.
"Do not forget, Lakshya. The day will come when I will demand you keep that promise."
When the last of it faded, only one object remained — a small iron scale warm to the touch, humming faintly like a heartbeat.
Lakshya slipped it into his pouch beside the banyan token and the Mandala's gift. Three pieces now. Each heavier than the last.
But somewhere far off, the whispers of the Silent Mandala grew sharper — and one of them carried a warning:
"The one who listens is now the one who hunts."
To be continued....