The camp was no longer safe.
Not after the assassin. Not after the control shard.
Aryan hadn't slept since he pulled the blade from his Vanara's flesh. The guilt sat heavy in his chest. The beast still trusted him—still licked his hand like nothing had happened. But Aryan knew better.
Someone was getting close. Too close.
And all signs pointed to Kiva.
The Confrontation
"Kiva!" Aryan's voice rang out through the training field, cutting through morning mist like steel.
Kiva turned, cool as ever, arms folded behind his back. "You look tense."
Aryan tossed the rune shard to the dirt between them. "Found this buried in my Vanara's shoulder."
Kiva didn't flinch. "You think I did that?"
"You're the only one who's always watching. Always five steps ahead."
Kiva stepped forward, slowly. "If I wanted to kill your beast, Aryan, you'd never have known it happened."
They stood just inches apart. Tension crackled like lightning.
Vaidehi stepped between them. "Enough."
She turned to Kiva. "If you're not the one behind this, prove it."
Kiva's eyes narrowed, then finally—he extended a scroll.
"I intercepted this two nights ago. An Ashborn courier was riding through the eastern ravine."
Aryan took it. The seal was unbroken, but the symbol engraved into the wax froze his blood.
The same spiral rune that glowed in his dream.
He looked up. "What is this?"
"A message," Kiva said. "For someone inside our camp."
The Trap
Bhairav summoned the squad to the war tent.
"We're baiting them," he said, spreading out a map. "Tonight, the scroll returns to the outer vault. We leak false info that Aryan's beast is unstable. We'll draw them out."
"Who do you expect?" Devran asked.
"Whoever wants control of Aryan," Bhairav answered. "Or worse—whoever wants him dead."
Aryan volunteered for guard duty.
"No." Bhairav shook his head. "You're the bait."
Midnight – Vault Perimeter
Aryan sat on a crate near the vault entrance, pretending to doze. His Vanara lay still, but its ears twitched at every sound. A patrol passed. Then another. All part of the plan.
Vaidehi and Devran were hidden nearby, cloaked by a shroud of wind and silence runes.
Everything was quiet.
Until—
A spark. A faint crackle in the air.
The runes on the vault door flickered.
Aryan's Vanara snarled.
A shadow peeled away from the wall. No footsteps. No breath.
Aryan moved fast—blade drawn, beast leaping.
But the figure was faster.
It hurled a vial toward Aryan. The glass shattered mid-air—
Not poison. Smoke.
Dark. Thick. Magic-fused.
Aryan slashed wildly. His Vanara tackled something in the haze. A cry of pain.
Then—
"Aryan!"
Vaidehi's voice.
Wind exploded the fog outward. Aryan saw the figure clearly now:
A woman. Hooded. Scarred. A beast mark etched across her jaw like fire.
And her eyes—his eyes.
He froze.
"Who are you?" he breathed.
She stepped back, wounded, staring like she had seen a ghost.
"Aryan..."
Then she vanished in a blink of flame and shadow.
Too late to stop her.
But not too late to find what she dropped.
Another scroll.
And a broken pendant.
Aryan knelt, trembling, holding the cracked piece of metal.
The inscription was old.
Worn.
But still readable.
"To my son. May the bond protect you."
—Adira.