Morning sunlight did little to chase away the chill that clung to Aryan's skin.
He sat alone by the cliff's edge, holding the broken pendant like it might start whispering secrets. The engraving—faded, but unmistakable—was proof.
His mother was alive.
And she had been here.
The Scroll's Secret
The scroll left behind by the masked woman was different—older, etched not in ink but in faint, glowing lines that shimmered when exposed to the sun.
Devran, now seated cross-legged in the command tent, ran his fingers across the page. "This isn't normal script. This is binding-language, pre-Empire."
"Can you read it?" Vaidehi asked.
Devran hesitated. "Parts. It's a warning."
Aryan leaned closer.
"'The Chainless have returned. They wear our marks, but not our loyalties. If the boy survives the test, bring him to the Spire. The Flame will judge him.'"
Aryan frowned. "The boy. That's me?"
"Maybe," Devran said. "Or maybe there's more."
Bhairav walked in, armor half-strapped, jaw tight. "I've heard of the Chainless. They're not Unbinders. They're worse."
Aryan turned. "Worse how?"
"They were once Beastbinders who cut their own connection—snapped the sacred chain between soul and beast. They believed binding was a form of slavery."
Vaidehi's face went pale. "But that's dangerous. It... kills the beast."
Bhairav nodded. "And often, the binder too."
Training Ground – Later That Day
Kiva waited for Aryan, two wooden swords strapped to his back.
"You ready?" he asked.
"For what?"
"Your first real test," Kiva said, tossing him a blade. "Let's see if you're the Empire's golden hope… or just lucky."
Aryan sighed, took the sword, and stepped into the circle.
They circled each other slowly.
Then Kiva lunged.
The fight was fast—too fast for most eyes—but Aryan held his own. Sparks flew from wooden blades. His Vanara circled outside the ring, tail twitching.
But Kiva was holding back. Aryan knew it.
"Fight me for real," Aryan snapped.
Kiva's eyes flared. "Fine."
He moved like fire—fluid, burning, relentless. Aryan barely dodged. The tip of the wooden blade brushed his ribs.
Then Aryan's beast howled.
A surge of wild instinct coursed through Aryan's limbs. His swings became faster. Sharper. His footwork—no longer taught, but felt.
Kiva backed off, shocked.
"You're syncing with it... fully. Not even commanders do that naturally."
Aryan lowered his blade, breathing hard. "Then maybe I'm more than a mistake."
Kiva just stared. Then muttered, "Or a weapon someone's waiting to use."
Later – Vaidehi's Secret
That night, Aryan found Vaidehi tending to Laksha's wings. The beast shimmered in moonlight, feathers glowing faintly.
"You've seen her before, haven't you?" Aryan asked.
Vaidehi didn't look up. "Yes."
"The assassin?"
"She's not an assassin, Aryan. Not to me."
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
Vaidehi finally turned, eyes shadowed with something ancient. "Years ago, when I was ten, my family was ambushed. Laksha saved me. But it wasn't my mother who shielded me that night. It was... her. The woman you fought. She whispered a name to me."
Aryan stepped closer. "What name?"
Vaidehi's voice trembled. "Adira."