The road after the hamlet grew quiet again.
Dust rose with every step Ganesh took, yet his heart felt heavier than his feet. The echo of Yama's presence still lingered in the air of his memory — the calm certainty of endings that no will could overturn.
Aneet walked beside him, keeping pace, letting silence be its own shelter.
By midday, the land changed.
Rocky hills gave way to a wide plain dotted with strange stone markers, half-buried and glimmering faintly in the sun. At first, Ganesh thought it was light playing tricks.
Then he saw it.
Gold.
Not just coins — slabs, vessels, chains, jewels scattered across the plain like fallen stars.
Aneet stopped short.
"That's… impossible," she murmured.
Ganesh frowned.
"This much wealth wouldn't lie unguarded," he said.
They stepped closer.
Everywhere they looked, treasure lay in careless abundance — crowns crushed into dust, chests broken open, gems half-sunk into soil.
Yet there were no walls.
No guards.
No sign of ownership.
Aneet bent and picked up a small bracelet, its surface etched with delicate patterns.
"This could feed a village for years," she said softly.
Ganesh felt the fire within him stir — not in hunger, but in warning.
"This place is a test," he said.
As if summoned by his words, laughter echoed across the plain.
Rich, warm, echoing like the clink of coins.
From behind a mound of gold emerged a stout, radiant figure seated upon a palanquin made of gemstones. His skin glowed like polished bronze, his eyes sharp and amused, and around his neck hung garlands of priceless jewels.
Behind him stood shadowy figures — yakshas — silent guardians of treasure.
Kubera.
Aneet straightened at once.
Ganesh bowed deeply.
"O Lord of the North," he said. "Guardian of wealth. I greet you."
Kubera grinned.
"So polite," he said.
"Most people forget manners when their eyes touch gold."
He waved a hand.
"Come closer, walkers. Don't be shy. This is, after all… my home."
Ganesh stepped forward cautiously.
"You let your home lie open to all?" he asked.
Kubera laughed.
"It lies open to those who can see it," he replied.
"And closes to those who cannot."
Aneet glanced at Ganesh.
"I don't like riddles," she said.
Kubera's eyes twinkled.
"Good," he said.
"Neither does wealth. It prefers honesty."
He leaned forward.
"Tell me, mountain flame," Kubera said,
"what do you see when you look at this?"
Ganesh looked around.
"I see what people would kill for," he said. "And what has killed many before."
Kubera chuckled.
"Practical answer."
He turned to Aneet.
"And you, archer?"
Aneet held up the bracelet.
"I see something that could save hungry mouths," she said. "And something that could rot hearts if clutched too tightly."
Kubera nodded approvingly.
"Both of you look beyond shine," he said.
"That is rare."
He rose from his palanquin and walked toward them, each step ringing like coins striking stone.
"Yet tell me," Kubera said,
"if you had the power to lift even a fraction of this wealth and reshape the lands you walk — build shelters, feed the lost, arm the weak — would you take it?"
Ganesh and Aneet exchanged glances.
Aneet spoke first.
"Yes," she said. "If it helped people."
Kubera raised an eyebrow and looked at Ganesh.
"And you?" he asked.
Ganesh was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "I would hesitate."
Kubera smiled knowingly.
"Why?"
Ganesh replied, "Because I don't know who I would become once I started carrying it."
Kubera's eyes gleamed.
"Ah," he said softly.
"That is the right fear."
He snapped his fingers.
The plain shifted.
The piles of treasure reshaped into a vision.
Ganesh and Aneet saw themselves standing atop great halls, people bowing before them, offering thanks, praise, devotion.
Food flowed.
Shelter rose.
Order was built.
Then the vision darkened.
They saw disputes over who deserved more.
Arguments over whose needs came first.
Guards pushing back the desperate.
And slowly, faces turning from gratitude to expectation.
Then to resentment.
The vision ended.
Kubera's voice echoed.
"Wealth does not only build," he said.
"It teaches people who they think they deserve to be."
Aneet swallowed.
Ganesh exhaled slowly.
Kubera studied Ganesh.
"You refuse thrones," Kubera said.
"Would you also refuse being the richest wanderer in the world?"
Ganesh met his gaze.
"Yes," he said. "For the same reason."
Kubera nodded.
"And that reason is?"
Ganesh answered, "I don't want my steps to be heavier than my purpose."
Kubera laughed loudly.
"Well said!"
He turned to Aneet.
"And you?" he asked. "Would you walk away from this shine if it lay at your feet?"
Aneet looked at the bracelet in her hand.
She thought of the hamlet.
Of hungry children.
Of broken roofs.
She sighed and set it back down.
"Yes," she said. "Because if I take it, I'll start thinking I can fix everything with it."
Kubera's smile widened.
"And what's wrong with fixing things?"
Aneet replied quietly, "It makes you forget how to stand with people while they fix themselves."
Kubera's laughter softened into something like pride.
"You two would drive my merchants mad," he said.
He gestured, and the treasure plain began to fade, dissolving into dust and light until only ordinary ground remained.
Kubera stood before them, no longer surrounded by gold.
"Hear me," he said.
"Wealth is not evil. Nor is poverty holy."
"But possession binds faster than any chain Varuna can forge."
He looked at Ganesh.
"You carry fire," Kubera said.
"If you let wealth cling to you, it will smother that fire before you even feel the smoke."
Ganesh bowed deeply.
"I will remember," he said.
Kubera turned to Aneet.
"And you, balance-walker," he said,
"your hands will one day hold more than you expect. When that time comes, remember how easily you set this down."
Aneet nodded.
"I will," she said.
Kubera stepped back.
"Then take this instead," he said, tossing something small toward Ganesh.
Ganesh caught it.
It was a simple, dull metal ring.
No shine.
No ornament.
"What is it?" Ganesh asked.
Kubera smiled.
"A reminder," he said.
"When hunger, greed, or desperation presses on you, touch it. It will not give you gold… but it will steady your heart."
Ganesh slipped the ring onto his finger.
"Thank you," he said.
Kubera nodded.
"Do not thank me," he replied.
"Thank yourselves for walking away."
He raised a hand.
The wind stirred.
And then Kubera, along with his yakshas, vanished like dust in sunlight.
Silence returned.
Aneet let out a slow breath.
"I didn't think I'd ever turn my back on that much wealth," she said.
Ganesh smiled faintly.
"Neither did I," he replied. "But I'm glad we did."
She looked at him.
"You still think you'll end up carrying too much?" she asked.
Ganesh glanced at the simple ring.
"Yes," he said. "But at least it won't be gold."
They resumed walking, the road stretching quietly before them.
The fire within Ganesh burned steady — unburdened by shine.
Far away, on the silent peaks, Mahadev felt the lesson settle.
"He will not mistake light for truth," Shiva murmured.
And in Vaikuntha, Narayana smiled gently.
"Thus he learns that abundance is only sacred when it does not own the one who carries it."
Ganesh and Aneet walked on.
Two flames.
Unchained by shine.