The road led them into a quiet grove unlike any they had seen before.
Tall sal trees formed a wide circle, their trunks pale and smooth, their leaves unmoving despite the breeze beyond the grove. At the center lay a small clearing bathed in soft light, as if the sun itself had chosen to rest there.
Ganesh slowed.
The fire within him did not stir in warning.
It settled.
Aneet felt it too.
"This place feels… untouched," she murmured.
"Not untouched," Ganesh replied softly. "Unburdened."
They stepped into the clearing.
And saw him.
A boy sat upon a simple stone, legs folded, hands resting on his knees. He looked no older than ten — slender, bare-footed, dressed in nothing but a strip of white cloth. His skin glowed faintly, not with light, but with an impossible clarity. His eyes were deep, ancient, and endless.
He smiled at them.
"You took a long time to arrive," the boy said gently.
Aneet stiffened at once, hand moving toward her dagger.
Ganesh, however, felt something else.
A vast stillness.
He folded his hands and bowed.
"Sanat Kumar," he said softly.
The boy tilted his head.
"So you remember our name," he said. "Good."
Aneet looked sharply at Ganesh.
"You know who he is?"
Ganesh nodded slowly, eyes never leaving the child.
"One of the first-born of Brahma," he said. "The eternal youth who chose wisdom over creation."
Sanat Kumar chuckled.
"Such heavy words for such a small mouth," he said, smiling. "Yes. I am he."
The air shimmered.
And for a moment, Ganesh sensed more presences — unseen, yet undeniable.
Sanaka. Sanandana. Sanatana.
The other Kumaras, watching.
Sanat Kumar looked at Aneet.
"And you, archer with steady breath," he said. "You are not afraid."
Aneet straightened.
"I don't know what you are," she said honestly. "But I know when someone doesn't mean harm."
Sanat Kumar's smile widened.
"That is wisdom without scriptures," he said.
He turned back to Ganesh.
"You walk with fire in your chest," Sanat Kumar said. "Yet you refuse to name it."
Ganesh inclined his head.
"I fear naming it would make me think it belongs to me," he replied.
Sanat Kumar nodded approvingly.
"Well answered."
He hopped down from the stone and walked around Ganesh slowly, eyes sharp.
"You have refused thrones, prophecies, and even visions of yourself," he said. "Tell me, wanderer… why?"
Ganesh did not answer at once.
Then he said, "Because every shape offered to me feels smaller than what I do not yet understand."
Sanat Kumar laughed softly.
"Ah… the hunger of the unshaped."
He stopped before Ganesh.
"Do you seek liberation?" he asked.
Ganesh shook his head.
"No," he said. "I seek to walk so honestly that if liberation comes, I won't have to chase it."
Sanat Kumar's eyes shone.
"Then you walk near Brahman already."
Aneet listened quietly, then spoke.
"And what about me?" she asked. "Do I pass your test too?"
Sanat Kumar turned to her.
"You do not burn like him," he said. "You balance. Where he transforms, you preserve."
He stepped closer to her.
"Tell me, Aneet… if he were to walk into fire that might consume him, what would you do?"
Aneet did not hesitate.
"I would walk in too," she said. "Not to stop him… but to make sure he doesn't walk alone."
Sanat Kumar closed his eyes briefly.
"Good," he whispered. "That is companionship without chains."
He turned back to Ganesh.
"The fire you carry," Sanat Kumar said, "is Atma-Agni — the soul's flame that rises when truth is chosen over comfort. It is rare in any age. In one who walks beyond fate… it is almost unheard of."
Ganesh bowed deeply.
"I don't want it to make me different," he said. "Only honest."
Sanat Kumar smiled.
"It already has."
He raised his hand.
The grove brightened, and suddenly Ganesh and Aneet found themselves standing within a vast vision.
They saw:
Worlds forming and dissolving.
Stars igniting and fading.
Yugas turning like slow wheels.
Kings rising and falling.
Even devas bowing to time.
Then they saw a single figure walking through it all.
Not crowned.
Not armed.
Just walking.
Each step left ripples that changed what followed.
Ganesh's breath caught.
Sanat Kumar's voice echoed:
"This is not fate."
"This is choice echoing forward."
The vision faded.
They were back in the grove.
Sanat Kumar looked at Ganesh gently.
"Many will try to name what you are," he said.
"Savior. Destroyer. Rebel. Guide."
"Do not accept any of it."
Ganesh nodded.
"I won't," he said.
Sanat Kumar smiled at Aneet.
"And you… many will try to pull you into his shadow. Do not allow it."
Aneet lifted her chin.
"I won't," she said. "He walks beside me. Not ahead."
Sanat Kumar's smile deepened.
"Then you both walk well."
He stepped back toward the stone.
"Our role is not to guide your steps," he said. "Only to remind you that no step is small."
The light in the grove began to soften.
Before fading, Sanat Kumar spoke one last time:
"When the fire in you seeks to become the whole, remember — Para Brahman is not reached by burning brighter… but by leaving nothing false unburned."
With that, the boy dissolved into light.
The grove returned to normal.
Birds began to sing again.
Wind stirred the leaves.
Ganesh and Aneet stood in silence.
Aneet finally exhaled.
"That," she said, "was not an ordinary child."
Ganesh smiled faintly.
"No," he replied. "But he spoke like one."
They resumed walking, the grove fading behind them.
The fire within Ganesh burned clearer.
Not stronger.
Clearer.
And beside him, Aneet walked with quiet resolve.
Two flames.
Balanced.
Unbound.