THE FIRST BISHWA'S LEGACY
The Ras Jeevan fruit pulsed warmly in Teju's palm as she turned to the elder. "I need to know more about the First Bishwa," she said, her star-mark flickering with curiosity. "Everything."
The elder's milky eyes gleamed. "Come." He led them through silver-lit groves to a weathered cottage draped in moonflower vines. The door creaked open, releasing the scent of aged parchment and wolfbane incense.
Inside, candlelight danced across a massive tapestry. Teju's breath caught.
There they were - the First Bishwa, her star-mark glowing just like Teju's, standing beside a towering werewolf king. The painting seemed alive; the Bishwa's eyes followed Teju, while the werewolf's amber gaze burned with barely restrained power.
"This," the elder said reverently, "was Kadam, First of the Moon-Bitten." His claw traced the wolf king's image. "When the Moon God cursed mankind, Kadam alone retained his mind amidst the bloodlust. He became our king."
Sahir studied the painting, his healer's mind noting the anatomical details. "The first werewolf..."
"The first of many," the elder nodded. "But our fangs were new, our claws untested. Then came the Nosferatu." His voice darkened. "The vampire clans saw us as prey."
Teju's fingers tightened around the fruit. "Vampires exist?" she whispered to Sahir.
"More than exist," the elder growled. "They hunted us like animals. Until she came." His claw moved to the Bishwa's image. "She stood between us and the night-walkers, her light burning their flesh like dawn."
The tapestry shimmered as the elder spoke, threads rearranging to show new scenes - the Bishwa creating protective wards, healing wounded wolves, standing beside Kadam under a crescent moon.
"They married?" Teju asked.
The elder's ears twitched. "Only her touch could calm the moon-madness in his blood. Their union brought peace." His voice broke. "Until the Blood War."
The tapestry darkened, showing a battlefield drenched in crimson. "The vampires came in force. Our people were being slaughtered. So the Bishwa..." He touched a glowing spot where the tapestry showed the woman ascending into light. "She sacrificed her essence to create the Ras Jeevan tree - its fruits sustain us, its roots protect our lands. With her last breath, she promised to return when darkness threatened again."
Teju's star-mark blazed suddenly, casting their shadows against the tapestry. The image of the First Bishwa seemed to smile at her.
The elder fell to his knees. "And now you stand here, bearing her mark, asking for her fruit. The cycle begins anew."
The Ras Jeevan fruit pulsed in Teju's palm like a second heartbeat as she turned to the elder. Moonlight streamed through the cottage window, making the ancient portrait of the First Bishwa shimmer with an ethereal glow.
"This time," Teju said, her voice steady but her star-mark flickering with intensity, "the Bishwa has returned to protect a family from Mohana's evil." The name of the daayan tasted like ash on her tongue. "She's already taken too much from them."
The elder's milky eyes reflected the dancing candlelight as he studied Teju's face.
"I see the First's fire in your eyes," he murmured. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he gave her a sorrowful smile. "You will succeed, Teju Bora. The Moon God would not have brought you to us otherwise."
Teju turned back to the portrait. The First Bishwa's painted eyes seemed to look directly into her soul. In that moment, she felt a connection spanning centuries - the same determination, the same fear, the same readiness to pay whatever price victory demanded.
Her fingers tightened around the glowing fruit. The elder couldn't know about the visions that had haunted her dreams - of a choice between light and life, of a sacrifice that would leave Sahir's hands empty and Mihir's redemption unfinished.
*'Even if I have to make the same sacrifice as you,'* Teju promised silently to the woman in the painting. *'Even if the cost is everything.'*
The candle flames suddenly burned blue. The elder inhaled sharply. In the portrait, the First Bishwa's star-mark flared in answer before fading back to painted threads.
Sahir, who had been quietly observing, placed a steadying hand on Teju's shoulder. "We should go," he said softly. "Mihir doesn't have much time."
Teju nodded, but as they turned to leave, the elder called out, "Wait!" He hurried to a carved wooden chest and withdrew a small silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon embracing a star. "She wore this," he said, fastening it around Teju's neck. The metal was strangely warm against her skin. "May it light your path as it did hers."
As they stepped back into the night, Teju touched the pendant and felt the weight of centuries pressing against her chest
As Teju and Sahir disappeared into the moonlit jungle, the cottage door creaked open. A silver-haired woman emerged, her tattooed arms glinting with wolf sigils. She watched the distant glow of Teju's star-mark fade into the trees before turning to the elder with a sigh.
"You let her leave without telling her the full prophecy," she murmured.
The elder's claws flexed against his staff. "She wasn't ready, Mahina."
Mahina's amber eyes narrowed. "She carries the star. She deserves to know about the crescent."
The elder exhaled, his milky gaze drifting to the ancient painting. "The First Bishwa had a pair-the one who bore the moon's mark. Two halves of the same vow." His voice dropped. "If bishwa has returned, the crescent-bearer will find her... whether she's ready or not."
Mahina's fingers traced the edge of the tapestry, where the paint had faded into obscurity. "And if Mohana finds them first?"
The wind howled through the branches, shaking the Ras Jeevan fruits like distant bells.
The elder turned away. "Then let us hope the moon remembers its promise."