The council hall of Nandigram was carved from stone older than the city itself, its pillars etched with scenes of gods and demons locked in eternal struggle. Tonight, those scenes seemed to glare down at the gathering below, as if mocking the men and women who now argued in their shadow.
The hall was filled with nobles, ministers, merchants, generals, and priests. Every seat was taken, every voice raised, all circling around one name.
Lakshya.
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King Samudra sat at the head of the chamber, his copper crown gleaming faintly in the torchlight. His face was stern, but his hand tapped restlessly on the arm of his chair. To his right stood Lakshya, silent, the new mark on his palm hidden beneath wrappings.
The first voice to ring out was Minister Devadatta, his robes embroidered with gold, his beard combed to perfection. "Your Majesty, this boy has brought doom upon us. For centuries the Watchers remained in silence. Now, because of him, they step into our gates! What happens next? Do they claim our temples? Our children? This 'mark' is a curse — and so long as he breathes, it endangers Nandigram."
A wave of agreement followed. Nobles murmured, merchants nodded nervously.
General Bhairav, however, slammed his fist on the stone table. "Curse? I call it a shield. We all saw it! The Envoy came not to destroy, but to bind. If the Watchers mark him, then they watch through him. Let the boy remain — so long as their eyes are fixed on him, they are not fixed on the rest of us."
His words brought murmurs of approval from some of the generals, though others shifted uncomfortably.
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A merchant with heavy rings on his fingers spoke next, his tone sharp: "Shields can shatter. And when it does, will the ashes fall only on him? No — they will fall on all of us. Trade is already trembling. Who will send caravans to a city cursed by Watchers?"
Lakshya finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying across the chamber.
"If you fear trade, then let me rebuild it. If you fear faith, let me face it. If you fear the Watchers, then I will bear that fear in your place."
The chamber stilled. Some stared in awe, others in suspicion. His words carried weight — but they also carried danger.
---
The high priest of Nandigram, a thin man draped in saffron robes, rose with surprising firmness. "You speak bravely, boy. But bravery is not enough. The Watchers are beyond gods, beyond prayers. They are law older than temples. If they have marked you, then your fate is bound. And by hosting you, our fate is bound with yours."
He turned to the king. "Your Majesty, I beg you — exile him. Do it not as punishment, but as protection for your people."
The hall broke into chaos. Some shouted for exile, others demanded Lakshya remain, still others argued he should be elevated as protector. The voices clashed like swords, louder and louder until the torches flickered under the force of their cries.
---
At last, King Samudra stood. His voice cut through the uproar like a blade.
"Enough!"
The chamber fell silent.
He looked at Lakshya, then at his council. His hand tightened on the arm of his chair. "The Envoy called him anomaly. The shard bound him. This is no curse to erase, nor a blessing to worship. It is a mandate — a burden no one else here could bear."
He straightened, his crown catching the firelight. "Lakshya will remain in Nandigram. He will train, he will serve, and he will be watched. But mark this — from this day, his choices bind not just him, but us all. His oaths are our oaths. His lies will be our shame. His truth, our strength. The Watchers see him — and through him, they will see us."
A hush fell over the chamber.
"The Ashen Mandate," whispered the high priest.
The words spread, first softly, then louder, until the chamber echoed with them. The Ashen Mandate.
---
When the council was dismissed, Lakshya lingered in the hall, staring up at the carved scenes of gods and demons. For the first time, he felt their eyes not as distant symbols, but as kin — figures bound by war, oaths, and burdens greater than their own lives.
Samudra approached quietly, his voice low. "I tied you to us tonight, Lakshya. Not because I trust you, but because I had no choice. The people will rally behind you now. Or they will rise against you. Either way, the city cannot step back."
Lakshya nodded slowly. "Then I'll carry it."
Samudra studied him, and for a fleeting moment, there was something like respect in his eyes. "See that you do. Or we all burn with you."
---
That night, alone in his chambers, Lakshya unwrapped his palm. The mark pulsed faintly in the torchlight, glowing like a coal.
He whispered to it, not sure if the Watchers could hear.
"You watch me. Fine. Watch. But I won't bow. I'll walk my path — even if your silence follows me forever."
For a moment, he thought he heard it — faint, distant, like laughter swallowed by the wind.
And then only silence.
To be continued....