The first thing Bharav noticed was the itching.
It began just below his collarbone—subtle at first, almost ignorable. By midday, it had spread across his shoulders and down his arms, following the faint paths of the Shash Chin like ants crawling beneath the skin.
He did not scratch.
Vighnaraj Bhatt walked ahead of him through the narrow market lane, staff tapping softly against stone. People moved aside instinctively—not out of fear, but habit. The village chief had always carried that quiet authority, the kind that did not need to announce itself.
"You're drifting," Vighnaraj said without turning.
"I'm fine," Bharav replied, though the words felt thin.
"No," the old man said calmly. "You're listening inward when you should be listening outward."
Bharav forced his gaze up. The market looked unchanged—vendors shouting prices, cloth fluttering in the breeze, children darting between legs. Yet something felt… muted.
Colors dulled at the edges. Sounds arrived a fraction too late.
"The Shash Chin is unsettled," Vighnaraj continued. "That happens when it senses kin."
Bharav's steps slowed. "Kin?"
"Not blood," Vighnaraj clarified. "Alignment."
They stopped near a spice stall. The vendor smiled nervously and busied himself with rearranging jars.
"Jhansi is old," Vighnaraj said. "Older than its walls. Older than its name. Certain bloodlines drift here the way snakes find warmth."
Bharav's pulse quickened. The itching intensified, sharp now, like pressure pushing outward.
"I feel like something is wrong," he admitted.
Vighnaraj nodded. "Good. That means you're not numb."
A sudden cry cut through the air.
Bharav turned just in time to see a man stumble near the well, clutching his chest. His skin had gone pale, lips tinged blue. People gathered quickly, murmuring.
Bharav moved without thinking.
He knelt beside the man, fingers hovering just above his skin. The Shash Chin reacted instantly—too eagerly. Blue light surged faintly beneath Bharav's skin, answering something unseen.
Pain lanced through his arm.
He recoiled.
"Do not touch him," Vighnaraj said sharply.
The man's breathing was shallow, eyes unfocused. A thin line of dark fluid seeped from the corner of his mouth.
Poison.
But not any Bharav recognized.
"He's been exposed," Vighnaraj said, crouching carefully. "Not bitten. Touched."
"By what?" someone asked.
Vighnaraj did not answer.
Instead, he pressed two fingers to the man's wrist, then withdrew almost immediately. His expression tightened.
"Take him inside," he ordered. "No crowds. Burn incense. Do not let children near him."
As the villagers obeyed, Bharav stared at his own hand. The itching had faded—but in its place was a dull ache, as if something had brushed against his blood and left residue behind.
"That thing last night," Bharav said quietly. "It wasn't alone, was it?"
"No," Vighnaraj replied. "And it won't be the last to test you."
They walked on in silence.
As the sun dipped lower, Bharav became aware of it again—that sensation of being watched. Not from behind. From within.
He stopped abruptly.
"Do you feel that?" he asked.
Vighnaraj halted a few steps ahead. Slowly, he turned.
"Yes," he said.
The air between them seemed to thicken. Bharav's breath fogged faintly, though the evening was warm. The Shash Chin stirred, lines glowing dimly along his forearm without his permission.
From the alley to their left, someone stepped forward.
He was young—no older than Bharav. His clothes were simple, travel-worn. A scarf covered the lower half of his face. His eyes, however, were sharp and alert, fixed directly on Bharav.
"You're louder than you think," the stranger said.
Bharav tensed instantly.
"Step back," he warned.
The stranger chuckled softly. "Relax. If I meant harm, you'd already be bleeding."
Vighnaraj's staff struck the ground once.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The stranger inclined his head slightly. "Just passing through."
His gaze flicked to Bharav's arm, where the faint blue glow pulsed once before dimming.
"But not by accident."
Bharav's jaw tightened. "You felt it too."
"Yes," the stranger said. "Like a bell rung underwater."
The words sent a chill through Bharav.
Vighnaraj studied the stranger carefully. "Your bloodline?"
The man hesitated. Just for a moment.
"Vanar," he said finally.
Bharav blinked. "Monkey?"
The stranger smiled with one corner of his mouth. "If you want to be crude."
Vighnaraj exhaled slowly. "You should not be here."
"Neither should what's crawling out of Nark," the stranger replied. "Yet here we are."
The air grew tense.
"What do you want?" Bharav asked.
"To see," the stranger said simply. "If the stories were true."
"And?" Bharav pressed.
The man's eyes flicked briefly to Bharav's chest, where the Shash Chin lay hidden. "You're early," he said. "And you're unrefined."
Anger flared—but Bharav held it down.
"That's enough," Vighnaraj said. "Leave Jhansi."
The stranger's smile faded. "I will."
He took a step back, then paused. "One piece of advice."
Bharav didn't respond, but the man continued anyway.
"Do not seek weapons yet," he said. "Bloodlines grow crooked when fed steel too soon."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, melting into motion as if he had never been there.
Bharav stood rigid, heart pounding.
"A Vanar," he said quietly. "Here."
Vighnaraj nodded. "Then others will follow."
They resumed walking, but Bharav's thoughts churned.
"How many bloodlines are there?" he asked.
"Enough to tear the land apart," Vighnaraj replied. "And enough to defend it—if they don't kill each other first."
Bharav flexed his fingers. The itching returned faintly, but this time it felt… directional. Like a pull.
"Something's calling me," he said.
Vighnaraj's grip tightened on his staff. "Ignore it."
"For how long?"
The old man did not answer immediately.
"Until ignoring it becomes harder than obeying," he said finally.
They reached the edge of Jhansi just as night fell. The sky darkened unnaturally fast, stars hidden behind thick clouds.
Far away, something howled.
Not an animal.
Bharav swallowed.
"I'm not ready," he said.
Vighnaraj looked at him then—really looked.
"No," he agreed. "But readiness has never stopped what's coming."
As darkness settled over Jhansi, the Shash Chin pulsed once beneath Bharav's skin—slow, deliberate.
Like a warning.