The forest ended as abruptly as if someone had cut the world with a blade.
One moment there were trees, tangled roots, and the muffled weight of leaves.
The next — an open clearing under a pale, swirling sky that seemed far too high, too vast, as if the air itself was not the same as the forest's.
At the far end stood the gates.
They weren't just doors — they were a wall of black stone carved with a thousand interlocking circles, each spinning slowly, grinding against the next with a sound like distant thunder. Shapes moved within those circles, shadows of beasts, warriors, and things that had no name.
The Hunter stopped short, lowering his bow. "The Silent Circle keeps its secrets here. Once you step through, you are no longer yourself. You are a piece on their board."
Lakshya's eyes locked on the gates. "Then I'll be the piece that topples the board."
The Hunter chuckled — the first real laugh Lakshya had heard from him — but there was no warmth in it. "We will see."
They crossed the clearing. The air thickened with every step, until it felt like wading through invisible water. Symbols burned faintly on Lakshya's skin where the Mandala's blessing lay, and the serpent's scale pulsed in his pouch like a heartbeat.
When they reached the gates, the circles stopped spinning. Silence fell so deep that even Lakshya's breathing seemed too loud.
A voice — or maybe a thousand voices layered into one — spoke from the stone:
"Bearer of three fragments. You walk without the Circle's leave."
Lakshya stepped forward. "Then give me an invitation."
The stone shuddered. Lines of crimson light raced along the circles, and slowly, the gates began to part. Inside was no courtyard, no hall — just a narrow bridge suspended over a chasm that descended into endless darkness. On the far side, faintly lit by a single lantern, was another set of doors, this one of pure silver.
The Hunter touched Lakshya's shoulder. "Past this point, I can't protect you. The Circle will speak to you alone."
Lakshya glanced at him. "Good. They'll have my full attention."
He stepped onto the bridge. It swayed under his weight, not from the wind — there was none — but from something moving far below in the abyss.
Halfway across, the lantern ahead flickered, and a figure emerged from the silver doors.
They were robed entirely in white, face hidden behind a mask marked with a single black circle in the center. In their hand was a staff made of bone, crowned with a spinning ring.
They raised the staff. The circles on the black gates behind Lakshya began to turn again — faster, grinding, building a sound like the approach of a great storm.
"Lakshya," the masked figure said, voice soft but carrying across the chasm,
"Welcome to the Circle. We have been hunting you… since before you were born."
To be continued....