The valley fell behind them, swallowed once more in mist.
But the silence Lakshya carried did not fade.
The circle etched into his palm still glowed faintly, a reminder of the price he had just paid. His arm felt lighter, but his chest heavier. The Circle had taken something, though he couldn't yet name what.
The Hunter walked ahead, silent as always, his cloak brushing against the broken ground. Lakshya followed, until at last the silence cracked.
"You knew," Lakshya said, voice sharp. "You knew I'd carry that debt."
The Hunter didn't look back. "Every hunter does."
Lakshya's jaw tightened. "Then what's yours? What debt still chains you?"
For a long moment, the older man said nothing. But his hand drifted unconsciously to his side, beneath the cloak, pressing against his ribs.
Lakshya caught the movement. His eyes narrowed. "You're wounded."
The Hunter stopped. Slowly, he turned his head. His eyes, shadowed and tired, met Lakshya's.
"This is not a wound," he said softly. "It is my debt."
They made camp beneath an ancient banyan tree, its roots twisting through stone like veins of the earth itself. The fire crackled low, casting long shadows.
Lakshya sat across from the Hunter, studying him. The man's face was carved with lines of exhaustion, his movements slower than before.
Finally, the Hunter pulled back his cloak.
Lakshya's breath caught.
Where the Hunter's ribs should have been, there was only darkness. A hollow wound, rimmed by scars that glowed faintly silver, as if burned into him. No blood flowed — the emptiness itself seemed alive, breathing.
"This is what happens when you cannot pay in full," the Hunter said. His voice was steady, but low, as though carrying the weight of centuries. "When the Circle demanded my debt, I faltered. I thought I could resist. I thought my will was stronger than its hunger."
He touched the hollow in his chest. His hand sank an inch into the emptiness before pulling back. "It took part of me. My heart, my voice, my warmth. And in return, it left me alive — but less than whole."
Lakshya's eyes hardened. "That's why you don't laugh. Why you don't… feel."
The Hunter's lips curved in something between bitterness and sorrow. "I feel. But only at the edges. The Circle feeds on what makes us human, Lakshya. Courage, memory, love. Pay too much, and you remain only a shadow with a weapon."
The fire popped, spitting sparks into the dark.
Lakshya leaned forward. "Then why stay bound to it? Why not cut it off? Break free?"
The Hunter's gaze sharpened. "And leave the Circle's prey unchecked? Do you think those echoes will stop feeding if we walk away? The Circle exists because the world must be protected. Someone must hunt."
Lakshya's fist clenched. He thought of the echo wearing his father's face, his own face, whispering lies into his ear. He remembered the pain of that black ash creeping up his arm.
Maybe the Hunter was right. Maybe someone had to hunt.
But must it be like this?
Hours passed in heavy quiet. The wind stirred the branches above, carrying faint whispers that might have been the valley following them still.
At last, Lakshya spoke. "What happens if you can't carry your debt any longer?"
The Hunter's eyes flickered to the firelight. "Then the Circle sends another hunter. And my debt becomes theirs."
Lakshya froze. "That's… that's slavery."
"No," the Hunter said. "It is inheritance."
Lakshya rose to his feet, pacing. "That's no different! You hunt, you bleed, you pay — and when you can't, it falls on the next. How many before you? How many more after?"
The Hunter said nothing.
The fire snapped.
Lakshya stopped pacing. His voice was low now, sharp as a blade. "And if I refuse? If I say no to the Circle?"
The Hunter's gaze locked with his. For a moment, silence was the only answer. Then the older man whispered:
"Then you become the hunted."
That night, Lakshya didn't sleep.
When the Hunter's breathing grew steady, Lakshya sat alone, staring at the circle on his palm. He pressed it against his chest, feeling the faint pulse beneath.
Debt… inheritance… hunted.
The Circle had bound him, yes. But it had not broken him.
Lakshya's eyes burned with quiet resolve.
"If this is the Circle's path," he murmured into the dark, "then I'll walk it. But not like you."
His voice trembled, but it did not waver.
"I'll find a way to pay my debts without losing myself. I'll tear their rules apart if I have to. And I'll make the Circle answer to me."
Somewhere deep in the forest, something stirred — a low, rumbling sound, like the growl of a beast awakening. The shadows thickened, listening.
And far beyond the banyan tree, unseen in the dark, a new hunt began to take shape.
To be continued....