The banyan's roots stretched across the ground like veins, their shadows weaving a silent mandala in the firelight.
Lakshya had not slept. The circle on his palm throbbed faintly, as if alive, and each pulse seemed to whisper fragments of voices not his own.
The Hunter stirred at dawn. He rose without ceremony, stoking the fire to embers and tightening the bindings on his cloak. But when he looked at Lakshya, he paused.
"You didn't close your eyes."
"I couldn't." Lakshya lifted his hand, showing the circle etched into his skin. "It speaks when I try."
The Hunter's face gave nothing away. He only nodded. "Then the Circle is already testing you."
They walked until the forest thinned. The mist gave way to plains scarred by fire. Blackened earth stretched as far as the eye could see, broken only by jagged stones rising like gravemarkers.
Lakshya frowned. "What happened here?"
The Hunter's voice was low. "This is where prey swore their oaths."
"Oaths?"
The older man crouched, tracing a scar in the ground with his finger. "Not all marked by the Circle become hunters. Some are chosen as prey. They are bound, chased, devoured — unless they can bind themselves to another law."
Lakshya's stomach turned. "So they're… sacrifices?"
The Hunter's eyes lifted. "Sometimes. But some prey take the oath. They swear to carry the Circle's debt willingly. They hunt themselves — their past, their illusions, their echoes. If they survive, they may rise."
Lakshya shook his head. "That's not a choice. That's chains dressed as destiny."
The Hunter's expression did not soften. "Chains or not, many have worn them. And some… found freedom."
As they crossed the scarred plains, Lakshya's mark began to ache. A cold wind stirred the ash underfoot, drawing lines across the soil like ancient runes.
Then, without warning, the ground split.
From the fissure rose a figure — a girl, no older than sixteen. Her skin was pale ash, her eyes hollow pits glowing faintly red. She wore no armor, only tattered cloth wrapped tightly around her arms and legs.
But her voice was clear.
"You carry the mark."
Lakshya stepped back, hand instinctively going to his blade. The Hunter did not move.
The girl's hollow eyes fixed on him. "Did you take it freely, or was it burned into you?"
Lakshya's chest tightened. "Burned."
Her lips curved, not into a smile, but something sharper. "Then you are like me. Prey."
The Hunter's jaw hardened. "She is one of the Oathbound."
Lakshya stared. "Oathbound?"
The girl spread her hands. Black ash streamed from her fingertips, curling into shapes that twisted like serpents. "We were marked. We swore. And in return, the Circle made us both hunter and hunted. Every day, I chase myself. Every night, I flee. The prey does not escape — but it endures."
The ash serpents hissed, then dissolved into the soil.
Her eyes narrowed. "Do you hear it yet? The voice that calls your debt? The prey that waits inside you?"
Lakshya's throat tightened. He remembered the echo's whisper in the valley. I am you. I am you.
"Yes," he whispered.
The girl's hollow gaze lingered. "Then you will hunt it. Or it will hunt you. That is the oath of the prey."
The wind shifted, carrying the sound of distant drums — deep, resonant, ancient. The Hunter stiffened.
"They come," he said.
Lakshya frowned. "Who?"
"The Prey's Circle," the Hunter answered grimly. "Those who swore the oath long ago. They guard the balance. If they've felt your mark awaken, they will test you."
The girl lowered her head, whispering something Lakshya could barely catch. "Run… or bleed."
And then she dissolved into ash, scattering across the scarred plain.
The drums grew louder.
Figures emerged from the mist — tall, cloaked in bone and ash, their faces hidden by masks carved like fangs. Each carried a staff crowned with skulls, and each step made the earth shudder faintly.
Lakshya's grip tightened on his blade. His pulse quickened, but he steadied his breath.
The leader raised a hand. "Mark-bearer."
The voice was deep, reverberating, as though it came from many throats at once.
"You stand in debt. You walk between hunter and prey. Then you must choose: oath… or oblivion."
The Hunter's hand brushed Lakshya's shoulder. His voice was low, urgent. "Do not answer lightly. If you swear, your path will change. If you refuse, they will not let you walk away."
Lakshya looked at the Circle of Prey, their bone masks staring silently. He felt the weight of the mark burning against his palm, the whispers growing louder again.
I am you. I am you.
His chest rose and fell. His choice was not yet spoken, but the valley waited, listening.
And the drums thundered on.
To be continued....