The wind carried only silence.
Lakshya stood on the scarred plain, his palm still faintly glowing, his body trembling from the force of what he had just spoken. His words echoed in him: Not your prey. Not your hunter. Myself.
The Hunter watched him with eyes narrowed, as if weighing a burden too heavy to name. "You've stepped off the path."
Lakshya wiped blood from his hand and slid his blade back into its sheath. "Then I'll carve another one."
The Hunter almost smiled — almost. "Paths don't stay empty for long. Others always follow. Or block."
They moved on.
The plains eventually bled into stone ridges, cliffs of obsidian rising like jagged spines. The land was silent, but not empty. Lakshya could feel it — the prickle at the back of his neck, the weight of eyes unseen.
The Hunter slowed. His cloak rustled faintly as he scanned the cliffs. "They're here."
"Who?"
"The Ashen Watchers." His voice was grim. "The Circle's shadows. They record. They judge. They wait."
Lakshya frowned. "Wait for what?"
The Hunter's hand brushed his weapon. "For those who break the Circle."
The cliffs shifted.
From the cracks seeped smoke, thick and dark, twisting into forms that resembled men but not quite — hollow bodies of ash and bone, their eyes faint red sparks like dying embers. They moved without sound, climbing down the stone until they surrounded the two travelers in a half-ring.
Lakshya's hand went instinctively to his hilt, but the Hunter raised his palm. "Don't draw unless they strike. They don't fight as mortals do."
One Watcher stepped forward. Its body rippled like smoke held together by invisible strings. Its voice was faint, like whispers carried on the wind.
"You swore. Not to Circle. Not to prey. Not to hunter. You swore alone."
Lakshya's jaw tightened. "Yes."
The Watcher's head tilted. "Alone paths… collapse."
The Hunter muttered under his breath, "And here it comes…"
The Watcher continued, its words fractured. "You… are anomaly. Circle cannot claim. Prey cannot bind. Hunter cannot teach. You… must be weighed."
Lakshya narrowed his eyes. "Weighed how?"
The Watcher's form flickered. Shadows spread across the ground, curling like roots. They stretched toward Lakshya's feet, clutching, tugging. "Weigh… in silence. Weigh… in fear. Weigh… in debt."
Suddenly the plain shifted.
Lakshya stumbled back, the obsidian cliffs dissolving into black fog. The Hunter was gone. The ground was gone. He was alone in a void where only whispers lived.
I am you.
I am your hunger.
I am your wound.
I am the oath you cannot keep.
Dozens of voices — his own, but warped, mocking, pleading. Shapes formed in the fog, faces of himself at different ages. One, a child with wide eyes full of hope. Another, older, twisted with cruelty. Another, broken and begging.
They circled him.
"You are not enough."
"You will break."
"You will choke on your own vow."
Lakshya clenched his fists. The mark on his palm throbbed, but his blade was gone — stripped away.
He stood alone.
The voices grew louder, a storm of himself closing in.
And then, through the roar, one voice broke clear.
"Lakshya."
It wasn't a whisper. It wasn't mocking. It was calm, steady.
Lakshya turned. The fog parted just enough to reveal a figure — not a shadow, but human. He could not see the face clearly, but the shape felt achingly familiar.
The figure spoke again. "Why did you swear it?"
Lakshya's throat tightened. "Because…"
The voices closed in again. You swore to pride. You swore to arrogance. You swore to nothing.
"No," Lakshya said, louder. His hands trembled, but he steadied them. "I swore… because I won't let anyone else write my path. Not gods. Not circles. Not illusions. Me."
The fog quivered. The shadows hissed.
The figure stepped closer. For a heartbeat, Lakshya saw his own eyes reflected — calm, resolute, unshaken.
"Then hold it," the figure said. "Even when they all tear at you. Even when it breaks you. If it is your oath… then endure."
The fog erupted into light.
Lakshya gasped, stumbling back onto the scarred plain. The cliffs and Watchers loomed again. The Hunter stood at his side, his sword drawn, eyes sharp.
The Watchers had not moved, but their eyes glowed brighter now, studying him.
The leader's voice came, a hiss of a thousand winds. "Anomaly endures. Not prey. Not hunter. Not Circle. But… still debt. We… watch."
And then, as suddenly as they had come, the Watchers dissolved back into smoke, vanishing into the cliffs.
Only the silence remained.
Lakshya's shoulders sagged, his breath heavy. "What… was that?"
The Hunter sheathed his blade slowly. His eyes lingered on Lakshya with an expression between respect and unease.
"The Watchers don't speak often," he said at last. "But when they do… it means the Circle itself is unsettled."
Lakshya exhaled, looking down at his palm. The mark pulsed faintly, steady as a heartbeat.
The Hunter's cloak shifted in the wind as he turned away. "You've made enemies older than the world itself. But maybe also something else."
Lakshya followed, his steps heavier now, his mind echoing with that figure's words: If it is your oath… then endure.
Unseen above the cliffs, ash swirled and gathered — not dissolving this time, but forming into something more solid. Eyes gleamed faintly within it, patient and calculating.
The Ashen Watchers had not left.
They were waiting.
To be continued....
The Ashen Watchers