The morning after the full moon was unusually quiet.
A cool breeze passed through the trees of Gurukul Tapovan, carrying the sweet smell of wild jasmine. The students followed their daily routine, but something had changed. Everyone could feel it, though no one spoke about it.
The attack a few nights earlier had left its mark.
Senior students guarded the entrances.
Visitors were questioned before entering.
The younger children were told not to wander into the forest alone.
Life continued—but with caution.
Tez finished sweeping the prayer hall and walked toward the training ground.
He noticed Rishi Anand standing beneath the peepal tree, watching the forest.
"You've been looking at those trees every morning," Tez said.
Rishi Anand smiled faintly.
"The forest always speaks."
"What does it say today?"
The sage remained silent for a moment.
"It says someone is coming."
That afternoon, a lone traveler appeared at the main gate.
He wore simple brown clothes, carried a wooden staff, and had a cloth bag hanging from his shoulder. His face looked tired from a long journey.
The guards greeted him respectfully.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Arvan," the traveler replied with a humble smile.
"I am a wandering scholar. I have travelled from the northern kingdoms, collecting knowledge from different gurukuls."
The guards informed Acharya Vedant.
A few moments later, the Acharya himself came to welcome the traveler.
"You are most welcome."
Arvan folded his hands.
"I have heard that Gurukul Tapovan is one of the finest centres of learning in this region."
"You honor us with your kind words," Acharya Vedant replied.
"As long as you respect the rules of this gurukul, you may stay."
"Thank you, Acharya."
From a distance, Tez watched the conversation.
"There is something strange about him," he whispered to Naman.
Naman looked surprised.
"He seems polite."
"Yes."
"But... I don't know why."
"I feel uneasy."
Naman smiled.
"Perhaps you're becoming too careful."
Tez hoped his friend was right.
During the evening meal, Arvan sat among the students.
He spoke kindly.
He told stories about distant rivers, snowy mountains, and great temples he had visited.
The younger students listened with excitement.
Keshav asked dozens of questions.
"Were the mountains really covered in snow?"
"They were."
"Did you see wild elephants?"
"Many."
"Were you ever attacked by a tiger?"
Arvan laughed.
"Fortunately, no."
Everyone laughed with him.
Everyone except Rishi Anand.
The old sage watched the traveler carefully.
His smile never reached his eyes.
After dinner, Acharya Vedant invited Arvan to the library.
The room was filled with palm-leaf manuscripts and ancient scrolls.
Arvan looked around with admiration.
"Your collection is remarkable."
"It belongs to generations of teachers," Acharya replied.
"Knowledge is a treasure that grows when shared."
Arvan nodded.
As the Acharya turned to place a manuscript back on a shelf, Arvan's eyes quickly searched the room.
He noticed a locked wooden chest in the corner.
His gaze rested on it for only a second.
But Rishi Anand saw it.
The sage quietly stepped between Arvan and the chest.
"Many old manuscripts are kept there," he said calmly.
"They are opened only on special occasions."
Arvan smiled politely.
"Of course."
But inside, his thoughts were very different.
If the pouch is not in the boy's hut... perhaps it is hidden here.
The next morning, the students gathered for archery practice.
Instead of real arrows, they used blunt wooden ones.
Acharya Vedant stood beside the targets.
"Today you will learn that aiming is not only done with the eyes."
Veer stepped forward first.
His arrow struck the edge of the target.
Keshav's arrow missed completely, making everyone laugh.
Then it was Tez's turn.
He held the bow tightly.
He remembered the burning village.
The masked men.
His family.
His hands trembled.
The arrow flew wide.
It missed the target entirely.
Tez lowered his head.
"I failed."
Rishi Anand walked over.
"No."
"You revealed something."
Tez looked confused.
"What?"
"Your heart is still carrying yesterday's pain."
The sage picked up the bow.
"If your mind shakes..."
"...your hands will follow."
He returned the bow to Tez.
"Close your eyes."
"Breathe."
"Forget the target."
"Become still."
Tez obeyed.
After a long breath, he opened his eyes again.
This time...
He released the arrow without fear.
Thud!
It struck the centre of the target.
The students clapped.
Even Veer smiled proudly.
Acharya Vedant nodded.
"The greatest victory is over your own fear."
As evening approached, Arvan quietly walked through the gurukul.
He appeared to be admiring the gardens.
Instead, he was carefully studying every building, every path, and every guard.
He noticed where Tez slept.
He noticed where Rishi Anand meditated.
He noticed which wall had the fewest guards after sunset.
Nothing escaped his attention.
Hidden beneath his sleeve was a small black feather.
The secret mark of The Raven.
That night, deep in the forest, Arvan stood before three cloaked riders.
He was no wandering scholar.
He was The Raven himself.
"The boy is here," he said.
"The teachers suspect nothing."
One rider asked,
"And the pouch?"
The Raven smiled.
"I will not steal it."
The others looked confused.
"I will make the boy bring it to me."
A cold wind swept through the trees.
Far away, Tez looked up at the same moon from outside his hut.
For reasons he could not explain...
He felt as though unseen eyes were watching him from the darkness.