The first rays of the sun touched the hills surrounding Anandpur, washing the valley in shades of gold. The village, which had been filled with fear only a day before, was slowly coming back to life.
The medicines from Gurukul Tapovan had begun to work.
Children who had been burning with fever were now sitting outside their homes. Women gathered around cooking fires once again, and for the first time in many days, the old temple bell rang across the village.
Its gentle sound carried hope.
Tez stood near the village well, watching the villagers smile.
Bhaskar joined him.
"You did well."
Tez shook his head.
"We all did."
Bhaskar smiled.
"A true leader always shares the victory."
Tez remained silent.
He did not think of himself as a leader.
Not yet.
A little girl came running toward him.
It was the same child whose fever he had helped treat the previous day.
She held a small garland of wild jasmine flowers.
"Brother Tez," she said shyly, "Mother told me to give this to you."
Tez knelt and accepted the garland.
"Thank you."
The little girl smiled brightly.
"When I grow up, I want to help people too."
Those simple words touched Tez deeply.
He remembered his own childhood in Suryanagari—the mornings with his parents, the laughter in the village square, and the dreams he had once carried so easily.
For a brief moment, sorrow returned to his eyes.
Vaidehi, standing a short distance away, noticed the change in his expression.
She walked over quietly.
"You still miss them."
It was not a question.
Tez nodded.
"Every day."
Vaidehi looked toward the rising sun.
"My grandfather says grief never truly leaves us."
"It simply teaches us how precious love really is."
Tez looked at her in surprise.
No one had ever described grief in that way.
He smiled faintly.
"Your grandfather must be a wise man."
A soft smile appeared on Vaidehi's face.
"He is."
"And he will probably pretend not to like you."
Tez laughed for the first time in days.
After breakfast, Vaidehi gathered everyone near the banyan tree.
"If you truly wish to understand the Guardians," she said, "you must meet my grandfather."
Bhaskar folded his arms.
"You told us he lives nearby."
"He does."
"But the path is hidden."
Somesh looked thoughtful.
"The Keepers protected their secrets well."
Vaidehi nodded.
"They had to."
She looked toward the northern hills.
"The place is called Rishigiri."
"Few people even know it exists."
Before leaving, Mukhiya Haridas thanked the travelers.
The villagers offered fruits, fresh bread, and blankets for the journey.
Bhaskar politely accepted only enough for the day's travel.
"The teachings of our gurukul forbid us from taking more than we need."
The villagers bowed with respect.
One elderly farmer stepped forward.
"You have saved Anandpur."
Tez gently replied,
"We only did our duty."
The old man smiled.
"Then may duty always guide your steps."
The path to Rishigiri was unlike any road Tez had seen before.
It passed through thick forests where tall deodar and sal trees reached toward the sky.
Clear streams crossed the trail, and colorful birds flew from branch to branch.
At one point, they walked behind a waterfall.
The rushing water formed a curtain of silver, hiding a narrow stone path from anyone standing outside.
Keshav stared in amazement.
"If Vaidehi hadn't shown us this..."
"I would never believe a path existed here."
She smiled.
"That is why it has remained hidden for centuries."
As they climbed higher, the air grew cooler.
The forest slowly changed into open grasslands dotted with wildflowers.
In the distance stood an ancient banyan tree whose roots spread across the hillside like the arms of a giant guardian.
Beneath its shade stood a small stone hermitage.
It was simple.
No grand gates.
No decorated walls.
Only a clay lamp burning near the entrance and rows of medicinal herbs growing in neat lines.
An old man was watering the plants with a clay pot.
His long white beard reached his chest.
His back was slightly bent with age, but every movement was calm and steady.
Without looking up, he spoke.
"You are late, Vaidehi."
She smiled.
"I knew you would sense us."
The old man finally turned.
His eyes were bright, sharp, and full of quiet wisdom.
He greeted Vaidehi warmly.
Then his gaze fell upon the strangers.
His expression immediately changed.
"Who are they?"
His voice was firm.
"They are friends," Vaidehi replied.
"They came from Gurukul Tapovan."
"I know where they came from."
His eyes stopped on Tez.
"What I wish to know..."
"...is why you have brought them here."
Vaidehi stepped forward.
"They deserve your help."
The old man shook his head.
"No."
"Our family has hidden this place for generations."
"Every time outsiders learn its secrets..."
"Blood follows."
A heavy silence settled over the hill.
Bhaskar stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
"We did not come to steal knowledge."
"We came seeking truth."
The old hermit remained unconvinced.
"Many have spoken those same words."
"Few have meant them."
His eyes returned to Tez.
"You."
"Step forward."
Tez obeyed.
The old man walked slowly around him, studying him carefully.
His gaze paused at the leather pouch hanging beneath Tez's robe.
"So..."
"You are Devadatta's son."
Tez's eyes widened.
"You knew my father?"
"I knew of him."
"He was one of the last Guardians who still believed humanity could choose wisdom over greed."
The old man sighed.
"And he paid dearly for that belief."
Tez gathered his courage.
"My name is Tez."
"I have come because I want to understand why my family died."
The hermit looked directly into his eyes.
"No."
"You came because you seek revenge."
The words struck Tez like an arrow.
He lowered his head.
He wanted to deny it.
But he could not.
Ever since Suryanagari had burned, part of his heart had longed to punish those responsible.
The old man noticed his silence.
"You see?"
"You could have lied."
"But you didn't."
Tez finally spoke.
"Yes."
"There are days when I want revenge."
"There are days when I feel anger."
"But every lesson my teachers have given me tells me that hatred will only make me like the people I fight."
"I don't know how to remove that anger."
"I'm still learning."
The hill became silent.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
Then...
The old hermit's stern face softened.
A faint smile appeared.
"The man who hides his weakness can never become strong."
He placed a gentle hand on Tez's shoulder.
"But the one who accepts it..."
"...has already taken the first step."
Vaidehi smiled quietly.
She had hoped her grandfather would see what she had seen in Tez—not perfection, but honesty.
The hermit folded his hands.
"My name is Acharya Somdev."
"I was once a teacher."
"Now I am only a keeper of memories."
He looked at the group.
"If you truly seek knowledge..."
"You may enter."
"But remember this."
"The secrets of the Guardians were never meant to make anyone powerful."
"They were meant to make people worthy."
The group followed Acharya Somdev into the hermitage.
Inside, shelves carved into the stone walls held hundreds of carefully preserved palm-leaf manuscripts.
Clay jars filled with herbs lined one side of the room.
Ancient maps hung from wooden pegs.
In one corner rested a large wooden chest bound with iron strips.
Somdev slowly walked toward it.
He knelt before the chest and removed a small bronze key from a cord around his neck.
The lock clicked open.
The old man carefully lifted the heavy lid.
Inside lay a rolled piece of faded cloth.
He unrolled it across a low wooden table.
Everyone leaned forward.
It was a map.
Not of a kingdom.
Not of a single village.
But of a vast region stretching across northern Bharat.
Seven glowing circles had been marked in red ink.
One circle had been crossed out.
Another was surrounded by fresh markings.
Somdev traced the remaining five circles with his finger.
His voice grew grave.
"There were once..."
"Seven Guardian Sanctuaries."
He looked up at Tez.
"And if the Black Eclipse reaches them before you do..."
"...the light your father died protecting may disappear forever."