The dawn did not come.
Not here, not in Vaitaalvan. The sun was a rumor, a distant memory, and the sky above was stitched with black threads, clouds moving like slow, heavy hands. Vikram's feet sank slightly into the soil, each step pressing a faint heartbeat into the earth. Behind him, Betaal's form was silent, hanging upside down from the branches as if he were stitched to the forest itself.
Vikram had walked for hours — or perhaps days. Time refused its shape here. The trees shifted when he wasn't looking, rearranging themselves into unfamiliar paths, and yet each trail felt familiar.
He stopped. The air smelled of wet ash and honey. A faint laughter, almost like wind, curled around his ears.
> "Welcome back, King."
Vikram turned. Betaal's eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the twisted horizon.
"You're enjoying this far too much," Vikram growled.
The ghost smiled. "Enjoying? I am curious. Every king who comes here carries the same pride, the same doubt. But you… you carry something else."
Vikram raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Fear," Betaal whispered. "Not of death. Not of pain. But of yourself. That… is what makes you interesting."
Vikram tightened his grip on his sword. "I fear nothing."
Betaal tilted his head. "Ah… yet here you are, walking in my forest, answering questions before you hear them."
The king's lips pressed into a thin line. "Speak plainly, spirit. I have no time for games."
Betaal dropped from the branch with an unnatural grace. He landed silently, his body bending like water around itself.
"You think you walk through a forest, but the forest is walking through you."
---
🌲 The Gate Appears
Vikram moved forward, pushing past the hanging vines and gnarled roots. Then, through the mist, he saw it — an archway of black wood, carved with symbols that seemed to writhe when observed directly. Its edges bled a faint red light, as if the forest itself had wounded itself to mark this place.
"This is the Gate," Betaal said, floating ahead. "Every king who enters chooses to remember… or to forget. Once you cross, nothing will be the same."
Vikram stared at the gate. It was impossible to measure its height; it rose beyond vision. And yet, he felt it calling him. His heartbeat resonated with the thrum in the wood.
He stepped closer.
A voice hissed from the arch itself — not Betaal, not the wind, not the trees. It was a voice like molten metal scraping against stone:
> "Who seeks the stories that devour themselves?"
Vikram didn't answer. His eyes flicked to Betaal. The ghost shrugged.
> "The forest demands acknowledgment. Speak, or it will speak for you."
Vikram whispered, almost instinctively, "I… seek the truth."
The archway shivered. Shadows spilled like water, crawling toward him. The forest exhaled. He felt fingers brush his skin — though no one was there.
---
🕯️ Inside the Gate
The moment he stepped through, the world changed. The ground disappeared beneath his feet, replaced by a platform of black stone that seemed to float in a void. The trees bent inward, forming a tunnel of watching faces — bark shaped into mouths, eyes, and hands pressed against the invisible barrier.
Betaal floated beside him, smiling faintly.
"You are in the threshold now. The Gate is not a barrier… it is a mirror. Everything you see here will reflect what you fear, and what you refuse to see."
Vikram's fingers tightened on his sword hilt. The shadows in the trees whispered:
> King of men… remember the blood you spilled… remember the faces you abandoned…
The whispers grew louder, merging into a cacophony of screams and sobs. Each voice spoke a story — a story of a soldier he sent to die, a child he failed to protect, a king he overthrew in his youth. The faces emerged from the trees, twisted and bleeding, staring at him with hollow eyes.
"Stop it!" Vikram shouted. "This is not reality!"
Betaal laughed. A soft, eerie sound. "Reality is what you refuse to remember. The Gate only shows it plainly."
---
🩸 First Tale Through the Gate
A mist formed ahead, and within it, a scene emerged. Vikram watched — horrified — as a palace of mirrors formed. Inside, he saw a young man — a prince — standing before his reflection. But the reflection moved on its own, gesturing, speaking, and laughing cruelly.
Betaal's voice drifted over the scene:
"This is the first tale. Watch, and answer if you can."
The prince said to the reflection: "Why do you exist?"
The reflection answered: "Because you allow me. Because your fears give me life."
The prince screamed, tried to strike the reflection, but each blow passed through it. Slowly, the prince realized: the reflection had always been him — every doubt, every guilt, every act he wished to erase.
Vikram clenched his jaw. The scene mirrored him. Every king who came here would see themselves as they truly were — stripped of excuses.
Betaal whispered, "The Gate shows not the world, but the soul. Answer wisely, or be trapped forever."
---
🌫️ The Trial
Suddenly, the black stone platform shook. Figures rose from the mist — soldiers, kings, ghosts, even faces Vikram didn't recognize but felt intimately wronged by. They circled him, their eyes hollow, mouths opening to scream silent accusations.
Vikram swung his sword, but it passed through them like wind. He realized the truth: this was not a battle of steel. It was a battle of will.
The faces lunged mentally, each accusing, reminding, tempting, and haunting. The forest's voice hummed:
> "Can you bear your own truth, King? Can you claim it, or will it claim you?"
Vikram's knees weakened. His own face stared back from every reflection, every shadow.
Blood from his palm — from yesterday, from the oath — dripped onto the stone and began to spread, forming a river that reflected all his sins.
"Stop this!" he shouted.
> "I am not stopping anything," Betaal said softly, almost kindly. "This is the moment you either break… or awaken."
The King's chest heaved. Memories surged — every betrayal, every lie, every oath broken. A soldier screaming for mercy. A child crying for food. His father's disappointed gaze. His mother's tears. Each memory struck like a blade.
---
🗝️ Betaal's Revelation
"You see," Betaal said, floating above the river of blood, "I am not your enemy. The sage sent you to me, but I am not the threat. The threat is what you refuse to face: yourself. All kings are shadows, Vikram. All warriors are mirrors. And all heroes… are haunted by what they ignore."
Vikram staggered, staring at the reflections. "Why me? Why always me?"
Betaal sighed. "Because you are capable of remembering. Most kings forget. Most warriors die without ever seeing the truth. You… are different. But different comes with a price."
The air thickened. The mist formed into a gigantic eye, unblinking, watching, judging. Vikram could feel it in his chest. His own heartbeat echoed back at him — faster, slower, then halted for a fraction of eternity.
> "You have crossed the Gate," Betaal whispered. "And now… the stories will begin."
---
🌌 Crossing Deeper
The platform extended. Shadows peeled away like skin, revealing another archway — this one taller, wreathed in blue fire. Vikram approached cautiously. The river of blood hissed, murmuring the names of his sins.
> "The deeper you go, the truer it becomes," Betaal said. "Soon, even I cannot lie to you. The forest remembers everything — and it will demand repayment."
Vikram swallowed, feeling the weight of every life he had touched. He realized: the oath he took was not just to bind a spirit — it was to bind himself.
He stepped through the next arch.
The world shimmered. For a moment, he saw the palace of mirrors again, the prince and his reflection. Then it vanished. A low growl, like a thousand wolves under the earth, rumbled through the void.
Betaal floated beside him, smiling.
"Good. You have survived the first test. But the Gate is endless, Vikram. Every step forward is a step deeper into your own shadow."
Vikram nodded, silently acknowledging the truth.
Fear had entered his chest — not of Betaal, not of the forest, but of himself.
The next tale awaited.
And the forest whispered its approval:
> "The King walks willingly… into the heart of his sins."
End of Chapter 2 — The Forest Gate