The next morning, Dharmapura felt like it was trying to pretend everything was normal.
People joked a little louder than usual.
They laughed a little too quickly.
They spoke about crops, goats, and grain as if they could push away the memory of the shared dream just by talking about other things.
But fear doesn't leave just because you look the other way.
It just hides deeper.
Aarav knew that now.
🌅 After the Dream
At breakfast, Meera hummed a small tune as she packed a bit of flatbread for him.
She didn't hum often.
"You're… in a good mood," Aarav said cautiously.
Meera blinked, as if waking from a thought.
"Am I?" she said. "Maybe. Maybe not. I had a strange dream again."
Aarav's chest tightened.
"With the river?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, frowning slightly. "It was dry again… but then, it rained. Just a little. Enough to make the soil dark. I woke up before I could see more."
She shook her head, as if trying to shake off the images.
"But I felt… not as heavy as yesterday," she added. "As if someone had opened a window in a stuffy room."
She smiled at Aarav.
"I'll take that as a sign the gods haven't fully turned their face away from us yet."
Aarav swallowed.
Maybe it wasn't only gods, he thought.
Maybe a tired boy's clumsy shield had touched her too.
He didn't say it.
Instead he smiled back.
"Maybe the world is not giving up on us yet," he said.
Outside, Kiran cornered him before he even reached the path.
"I had the dream again," Kiran blurted.
Aarav's heart jumped.
"Exactly the same?" he asked.
"No," Kiran said, eyes wide. "It started the same. Fog. Everyone by the river. The… big thing in the sky."
He shivered.
"But then, for a moment, there was this… glow," Kiran said, waving his hands helplessly. "Like when you light a lamp in a dark room and the corners don't look so scary anymore. And I saw… someone standing under it. A boy. Couldn't see his face."
He looked at Aarav searchingly.
"Do you think it means something?" he asked.
Aarav tried to keep his voice calm.
"Maybe it means," he said slowly, "that even in scary dreams, something is still fighting for you not to be alone."
Kiran huffed.
"I'd prefer fighting for me to have good dreams about food," he said. "But I'll take 'not alone' for now."
He studied Aarav for another second.
"You look tired again," he added. "If the rishi's training is too hard, tell him I said to go easy on you. I'm your friend. I'll protect you from ancient sages."
Aarav snorted.
"You can try," he said.
They parted ways at the path.
Aarav felt lighter and heavier at the same time.
🌳 New Lesson: Seeing Without Staring
Vardaan was waiting for him near the big neem tree outside the village, staff in hand.
"You stretched your shield last night," the sage said without preamble.
Aarav blinked.
"You… knew?"
"I felt its edges brush my dreams," Vardaan said. "Like a child's hand trying to hold more water than it can. Clumsy, but brave."
"Did I… do it wrong?" Aarav asked.
"There is no 'wrong' in trying to protect out of love," Vardaan replied. "There is only 'not strong enough yet' and 'getting stronger'."
Aarav let out a breath he'd been holding.
They started walking toward the forest clearing.
"Today," Vardaan said, "we work on another skill—reading lights."
"You mean… like seeing the glow around people's chests?" Aarav asked. "I did that at the river."
"Yes," Vardaan said. "But we will refine it. There is a difference between seeing to help and staring to judge."
Aarav frowned.
"I don't want to spy," he said quickly.
"Good," Vardaan said. "Because Dharma does not enjoy those who turn other people's hearts into entertainment. You are to look only when there is a reason. When someone asks for help. When you must decide how to act."
They reached the clearing.
Today, the sunlight-circle seemed even brighter.
"Sit," Vardaan said.
Aarav sat cross-legged.
"First, remember your own flame," Vardaan said. "Without that, any light you read will be warped by your own fear and pride."
Inner room.
Two-colored flame.
Door.
He found them all.
"Now," Vardaan continued, "when you look at another person, don't push. Don't force yourself into their space. Soften your gaze—not with your eyes, but with your attention. Imagine you are looking at a lamp through thin cloth."
"Won't that make things blurrier?" Aarav asked.
"Yes," Vardaan said. "But it also stops you from cutting them open when they haven't asked. People are not clay pots to break and examine."
Aarav nodded slowly.
"So… how do I start?" he asked.
"We will practice first with something that has no privacy to invade," Vardaan said.
He pointed to a small bush at the edge of the clearing, its leaves dusty but green.
"Look at that," he said.
"A… bush," Aarav said.
"Yes," Vardaan said. "Plants have a kind of light too. Simple. Easy."
Aarav focused.
He softened his eyes and attention, trying to see more than just leaves and stems.
At first: nothing.
Then, faintly, he saw something like:
A thin mist of pale green around the bush.
Gentle.
Steady.
Not like the complex glow of human chests.
It felt… calm.
"It's small," he murmured, "but… peaceful."
"Good," Vardaan said. "That is its dharma—to grow, to drink light, to hold the soil. It does not wrestle with itself like humans do."
They practiced with a tree, with a bird, with a sleeping dog.
Each had a different kind of light.
Simpler.
More innocent.
Less tangled.
"And now?" Aarav asked quietly.
"And now," Vardaan said, "we try with people."
👀 Lights in the Village
They walked back into Dharmapura, but this time, Vardaan did not head toward the river or the fields.
He stopped near the well, where people often gathered.
"Stand here," he told Aarav, in the shade of a wall. "Look around. Do not gawp. Do not stare like a hungry crow at a grain pot. Just… notice."
Aarav took a breath.
He let his eyes move naturally, as if he were just watching village life.
Which, in a way, he was.
Two women drawing water.
An old man muttering about aching knees.
A group of children tossing a cloth-wrapped ball, arguing about rules.
He softened his attention.
Lamp behind cloth, he reminded himself.
Slowly, the world shifted.
At each person, right at the level of their chest, he saw faint lights.
Some were small but steady, like a short candle that refused to blow out.
Some were brighter but messy, flaring high then dipping low.
Some were barely embers.
Around many of them, the same thin dark smoke he had seen before curled and twisted, especially near their heads.
He noticed one woman's light glowing slightly brighter as she gave a little extra water from her pot to an old neighbour.
A man whose light flickered erratically as he spoke big words that didn't match the tired, calculating feeling beneath them.
A child whose light shone startlingly clear as she tied her broken sandal-strap and kept playing without complaining.
"Do you see?" Vardaan's voice asked quietly.
"Yes," Aarav whispered. "Everyone… looks different. Not on the outside. Inside."
"That is how Dharma and Adharma weave through lives," Vardaan said.
Aarav's attention caught on a boy standing near the wall of a house.
He recognized him—Tapan, whose family often struggled for food.
Tapan was glancing around nervously.
His hand crept toward a flatbread left unguarded on a low ledge near the well, clearly meant for someone coming back soon.
As Tapan's fingers closed around the edge of the bread, the light in his chest—small but real—flickered.
A coil of dark smoke thickened around his hand, linking up to the general mist of Adharma in the air.
Aarav's jaw tightened.
"Rishi-ji," he whispered, "Tapan is about to steal."
"Yes," Vardaan said. "Now ask yourself: will shouting 'THIEF!' help his light grow? Or will it only feed his shame and the crowd's cruelty?"
Aarav thought fast.
He stepped away from the shade.
"Tapan!" he called, loud enough for the boy to jump.
Tapan froze, hand inches from the bread.
He looked like a cornered animal.
Aarav walked closer quickly and lowered his voice.
"I'm starving," he said casually. "You too?"
Tapan blinked, eyes wide.
"W-what?"
"That bread smells good," Aarav said. "Want to share? I'll say I was the one who took it. Meera-amma will scold me anyway for sneaking food. She's used to it."
Tapan stared at him.
"You'd take the blame?" he whispered.
Aarav shrugged, heart beating fast.
"It's easier for me," he said quietly. "If someone shouts at you, they'll say: 'Of course, that hungry boy stole, what else do you expect?' If they shout at me, it's just me being stupid again."
Tapan's hand shook.
The dark smoke tightened.
His eyes flicked between the bread and Aarav's face.
Aarav held his gaze, trying not to push, just… offer.
"You can also not take it," Aarav added. "We can both pretend we were admiring it like art."
A tiny, startled laugh escaped Tapan.
For a second, the smoke loosened.
His shoulders slumped.
"I… I'm just tired of seeing my little sister cry from hunger," Tapan whispered, throat tight. "Sometimes I feel like the world doesn't care if we starve."
Aarav's chest hurt.
In his inner room, he felt the gold part of his flame ache in sympathy.
He lowered his voice even more.
"What if we ask my mother for an extra piece when she bakes?" he said. "She grumbles a lot, but she doesn't like children going hungry."
"She'll say we're charity beggars," Tapan muttered.
"Maybe," Aarav said. "Let her say it. My ears are used to her grumbling. Your sister's stomach is not used to being full."
Tapan let go of the bread.
The dark smoke around his chest thinned slightly.
His little light, though still weak, steadied.
"O-okay," he said. "We'll try your way."
Aarav smiled.
"Come tonight," he said. "I'll 'forget' to eat one of my pieces."
As they walked away, Vardaan's voice brushed Aarav's ear like wind.
"You chose a Dharmic path that did not ignore his pain," the sage murmured. "Good. If you had only said, 'Stealing is bad,' you would have spoken Dharma like a hammer, not like medicine."
Aarav cast one more look at Tapan.
In his softened sight, the boy's little light glowed just a touch brighter.
🐍 A Merchant and the Coils of Greed
Later that day, shouting reached the village from the main road.
Not angry shouting.
Excited shouting.
A caravan had arrived.
Aarav and Kiran slipped through the growing crowd.
Bright cloth-covered carts.
Oxen with colored tassels.
Strangers in clean clothes, smelling of distant places.
At the center of it all stood a man in a red turban and a fine vest, his smile wide enough to show all his teeth.
"Friends of Dharmapura!" he called, arms open. "I am Raghav the Fortunate, bringer of rare goods and fair bargains!"
"Fortunate for who?" someone muttered.
Raghav laughed as if he'd heard.
"For all of us, I hope," he said.
He started displaying his wares.
Shiny bangles that caught the sun.
Knives with patterned handles.
Tiny bottles of colored powder that glowed faintly.
Simple toys that moved with hidden springs.
Children gasped.
Women whispered.
Men stroked their chins, calculating.
On the surface, it was just a market.
But Aarav had learned to look beneath surfaces.
He softened his gaze, heart in his chest, flame steady.
Raghav's inner light was… interesting.
It was strong—stronger than many villagers'.
But it was wrapped in many twists of darker color.
Not like the thin smoke of everyday Adharma.
Thicker.
Heavier.
The main light in his chest shone a bright, restless yellow-gold, tempered by something else.
Around it, cords of dark greenish-black coiled tightly, like snakes around a tree trunk.
They pulsed with each sale, each laugh, each promise.
Aarav felt his throat go dry.
"Rishi-ji," he whispered as Vardaan appeared beside him like a shadow. "His light…"
"Yes," Vardaan murmured softly. "You see the coils of Greed and Falsehood around him."
"Like… two Shadow Kings?" Aarav asked nervously.
"No," Vardaan said. "Not their full selves. But their influence. Their 'taste'. Men like Raghav are not demons. They are humans whose choices have tangled with these Kings' threads for many lifetimes."
They watched for a while.
Raghav's voice flowed like honey.
"This cloth," he said, holding up a bolt of fabric, "is from so far away even the birds get tired flying there!"
Aarav's gaze drifted to the cloth-seller's light.
Each exaggeration made one of the dark cords around his light thicken slightly.
"And this powder?" Raghav went on, holding up a tiny bottle of red dust. "Sprinkle a little at your door, and no evil eye will touch your house."
Murmurs of interest.
"It's just colored sand," Kiran whispered.
Aarav looked closer.
A faint trace of cheap crushed flower, a bit of ash.
Nothing special.
He watched a woman hand over more grain than she could truly spare.
Raghav's eyes warmed.
One of the green-black cords pulsed in satisfaction.
"This is… Adharma too, isn't it?" Aarav said, anger bubbling.
"Yes," Vardaan said. "But softer. Slower. Many will call it 'smart business'. 'Knowing how to talk.' This is how the Shadow King of Greed grows—through deals that look harmless but bleed fairness dry."
Aarav's fists clenched.
"Can't we stop him?" he asked.
"By what right?" Vardaan asked calmly. "Will you shout, 'This man is greedy!' in the middle of his work and turn the village against him based on a sight only you have?"
Aarav swallowed.
"But he's taking too much… from people who already have little," he protested.
"Yes," Vardaan said. "And there will be chances to reveal this. But remember—Dharma is not only about breaking others. It is about seeing clearly and acting wisely."
Raghav had moved now to speaking privately with the village headman.
Aarav shifted to catch snippets of their conversation.
"…water rights by the river… we can build a small storage area… in exchange, I help you sell your grain in the city… much profit for all…"
The headman's eyes glittered.
Aarav frowned.
He softened his sight again.
The headman's light, which had once been modest but decent, now flickered, drawn toward Raghav's coils.
A faint line of darker energy stretched from Raghav's chest toward the headman's, like a hook.
"Like the dream-threads," Aarav breathed.
"Yes," Vardaan said. "The Shadow King of Greed does not throw nets from the sky like the King of Fear. It sends promises through human mouths."
As they watched, something else happened.
Just for a second, near Raghav's cart, the air shimmered.
Aarav squinted.
A hairline crack, much smaller than the one in the hills, flickered near one wheel of the cart and then faded.
"Did you see that?" Aarav asked sharply.
"Yes," Vardaan said grimly.
"Another world-crack?" Aarav whispered.
"A seed of one," Vardaan said. "Where Greed and Falsehood grow together, reality itself can start to warp. Lies bend more easily. Unfair deals feel 'normal'. It is not yet open. But if this man stays long…"
He left the sentence unfinished.
⚖️ Dharma's Dilemma
That night, Dharmapura buzzed with talk of Raghav.
"Did you see the toys?"
"He says he knows people in the king's city!"
"If we give him some grain now, he'll bring us silver later."
Aarav sat outside his house with Kiran, watching the stars appear one by one.
"You don't like him," Kiran observed, chewing on a stalk of grass.
"Who?" Aarav said, though he knew.
"The merchant," Kiran said. "Raghav the Fortunate." He imitated the man's grand voice on the last words.
Aarav sighed.
"I don't like being tricked," he said.
"Everyone tricks a little in trade," Kiran said with a shrug. "If he lies, we lie back. That's how the world works."
The words stung.
That's how the world works.
Aarav thought about that for a long moment.
"Should it?" he asked quietly.
Kiran rolled the grass stem between his fingers.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Sometimes it feels like if you don't lie, someone else will, and you'll be the one left hungry."
He looked sideways at Aarav.
"Is the rishi telling you not to lie?" he asked. "Is that part of his 'Dharma lessons'?"
Aarav thought of the Shadow Kings.
Of the crack near the cart.
Of the coils around Raghav's light.
"Yes," he said slowly. "Not just 'don't lie'. But… see where lies lead. See who they feed."
Kiran snorted.
"If lies feed me, I'll take them," he said. "If they feed that merchant alone, I won't."
He lay back on the ground.
"But I wouldn't mind if your Dharma training came with a pouch of gold," he added. "Then you could buy me a toy without making a speech about inner flames."
Aarav smiled despite himself.
"I'll tell Sanatan to include that in the schedule," he said.
But inside, he felt something heavy.
If Greed and Falsehood could make cracks…
if the King of Fear could send shared dreams…
Then the war wasn't just about monsters.
It was about everyday choices.
Every trade.
Every half-truth.
Small things.
Like pebbles.
But enough pebbles can break a pot.
🌌 Greed's Attention
Far beyond Dharmapura, beyond the sky of stars, in a layer of reality where no human eye could look directly, something stirred.
The Shadow King of Fear had already turned its gaze toward the village.
Now, another presence noticed the same small point on the great cloth of the world.
A presence like clinking coins falling forever.
Like hands grasping at more and more and never feeling full.
The Shadow King of Greed did not appear as a shape.
It appeared as a feeling.
A pulling.
It felt Raghav's coiled desires.
It felt the headman's small, growing hunger for greater power.
It felt hundreds of tiny wants: better clothes, more land, more respect, more "mine".
And beneath all that it felt something else:
A small flame.
Two-colored.
Resisting.
Interfering.
"You again," it might have said, if it used words. "The boy with the rope between light and dark."
The King of Greed, interested, drew a little closer to Dharmapura in the unseen realm.
Plans began to form.
Not like the King of Fear's heavy dream-webs.
Subtler.
Like whispers.
Like bargains.
Like "just this once" and "no one will know".
In the forest clearing not far from the village, Vardaan sat alone, sensing the distant shift.
He opened his eyes, lines on his face deeper in the starlight.
"So," he murmured to the wind. "Fear has noticed him. Now Greed as well."
He looked toward where he knew Aarav slept.
"You asked for a student strong enough to carry both sides, Sanatan," he whispered. "I hope I am strong enough to guide him."
In his small room, Aarav turned in his sleep.
The inner room appeared again.
The two-colored flame burned on.
Gold and black.
Twisting, learning, choosing.
He did not know it yet.
But from now on, the battles of Dharma and Adharma would not only come from cracks in the sky and shadows in rivers.
They would come through smiles, through shiny goods, through easy lies that seemed harmless.
And every time he looked at a person's light and chose how to act,
he would be throwing a grain of rice
either to the side of Sanatan Dharma—
or into the hands
of a hungry Shadow King.
✦ END OF CHAPTER ✦