Chapter 2: The Collision
The ghost of Neer's smile hung in the air long after he'd left my doorway. I sat on the edge of my cot, the rough wool of my blanket grounding me. The dream's visceral echo—the feel of his blood on my hands, the weight of his body—clung to me like a shroud. Every time I blinked, I saw those two versions of him superimposed: the laughing boy in the doorway and the dying seer in the storm.
How could I face him? How could I sit beside him in class, practice with him in the Akhada, knowing the promise of steel I carried for him?
The morning bell for assembly clanged, its sound a brutal intrusion. I dressed mechanically, the motions of tying my robes and securing my practice sword a familiar, mindless ritual. My body moved towards the main hall, but my spirit felt tethered to that rain-swept ruin.
The Gurukul was stirring to life. Disciples in their red and blue robes moved in streams towards the assembly ground. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming champa flowers. It was a picture of peace I was no longer part of.
I saw him almost immediately. Neer was surrounded by his usual circle of friends, his laughter ringing out, clear and bright, as he animatedly recounted some story. He threw his head back, and the morning sun caught the sharp line of his jaw, the easy confidence in his posture. He was life incarnate.
My feet rooted to the spot. The prophecy screamed in my skull. He will not be the one dying.
"Agni?" A calm voice broke through my turmoil. It was Aakash, his perceptive eyes taking in my frozen stance, the tension in my shoulders. "You look as if you've seen a vision of the end-times."
I forced a breath into my lungs. "A bad dream. Nothing more."
Aakash's gaze drifted towards Neer and then back to me. "Some dreams are more than just dreams. The mind sees what the waking eyes refuse to."
Before I could respond, Acharya Manu's stern voice called us to order. The assembly began, a drone of mantras and announcements I couldn't focus on. I was hyper-aware of Neer, two rows ahead and to my left. The way he fidgeted, the subtle roll of his eyes during a particularly long prayer. Every mannerism, once a source of minor irritation, was now a painful reminder of the living, breathing person I was destined to destroy.
The memory of our first meeting, years ago, slammed into me with the force of a physical blow.
---
The rain was a gentle mist, cooling my heated skin as I practiced my forms in the Akhada. I was twelve, and every movement of the sword was a prayer, a step towards becoming the warrior my lineage demanded. The world had narrowed to the arc of my blade, the feel of the hilt in my hand.
"Come back here, you little rascal!"
The shout, followed by a blur of blue and a panicked rabbit, shattered my focus. A body collided with mine, sending us both tumbling onto the wet grass. The air left my lungs in a whoosh.
I found myself staring into a pair of wide, blue eyes, mere inches from my own. The boy—Neer—was sprawled on top of me, his expression a comical mix of shock and dawning amusement. Time stuttered. The world dissolved into a haze of green and blue. For a single, dizzying moment, I didn't see the boy. I saw a flash of stormy skies, a glimpse of crumbling ruins, and a feeling of profound, soul-deep connection that stole my breath.
Then, it was gone.
His friends ran up, their laughter dying as they saw me. I was the prince, the disciplined one, and they had interrupted my practice.
I shoved him off, my pride stung. "I am Agniveer. Who are you? You have disrupted our practice. Leave this place immediately, otherwise—"
Neer simply picked himself up, brushing mud from his robes. That infuriating, charming smile was already back on his face. "Oh dear, you're not hurt, are you, Kshatriya prince? We thought some arrogant peacock was showing off his feathers!" He scooped up the shivering rabbit. "Anyway, our little friend here is the culprit. By the way, sir, what is your name? Would you kindly tell us?"
The audacity. "I said, my name is Agniveer. Now leave!"
"Hey, wait!" he said, his eyes twinkling. "Cool your anger, Prince Agni. Just like your name, you're burning like fire." He nuzzled the rabbit. "Come, my dear, or someone's anger will really burn you to a cinder."
Laughing, he walked away with his friends. But after a few steps, he turned back. His eyes found mine, and he offered a small, challenging smile that felt like a secret shared.
I didn't smile back. I just stood there, my practice forgotten, my young mind reeling. The collision, the shared glance, the strange vision—it felt less like an accident and more like a beginning. A beginning I couldn't yet understand.
---
"Agni."
I flinched, the memory scattering. The assembly was over. Disciples were dispersing towards their first classes. Acharya Shatrunjay was standing before me, his brow furrowed.
"You are not present, Agniveer. Your focus is your greatest weapon. Do not sheathe it."
"My apologies, Acharya," I murmured, bowing my head.
He studied me for a moment longer, his gaze piercing. "The path of a Kshatriya is paved with difficult choices. But a clouded mind makes no choices at all. It merely stumbles into destiny."
His words hit too close to the mark. Was I stumbling? Was this all inevitable?
The first class was scriptural knowledge with Acharya Manu. I took my seat, the scrolls before me feeling alien. Neer sat a few benches away. I could feel his presence like a static charge in the air.
Acharya Manu posed a question to the class. "If an innocent Brahmin appears to be a traitor, what should the king do?"
I saw Neer lean over and whisper something to Gopal, who immediately raised his hand. "Acharya, it was Neer who was mimicking you!"
Acharya Manu's eyes narrowed. "Stand up, Neer."
Neer stood, that ever-present smile playing on his lips.
"Answer the question," the Acharya commanded.
Neer's answer was impulsive, emotional. "If the Brahmin is innocent, then he should be secretly given exile. The king's job is not to take revenge, but to protect. Even if he is guilty, God will decide his punishment."
The Acharya shook his head. "Your answer was emotional. Now, Agni, you answer."
I spoke without thinking, the words of the Dharmashastras coming to my lips by rote. "The king should distinguish between the innocent and the guilty, and if the Brahmin is proven guilty, then he should be punished according to the Dharmashastras—not based on his Varna."
The Acharya was pleased. But he punished Neer. "Neer, your conduct was improper. You are assigned the task of cleaning the entire library today. Agni, you will supervise him. If there is any negligence, inform me."
The order felt like a trap. Hours alone with him. Hours of pretending I didn't know how his story was meant to end.
"As you command, Acharya," I said, my voice flat.
I didn't look at Neer as we were dismissed. I walked out of the class, the weight of my duty and my dread a heavier burden than any sword.
He fell into step beside me, his shoulder brushing mine.
"Well, well," Neer said, his voice a low, amused hum that vibrated in the space between us. "Looks like we're stuck with each other, Prince Agni. Let's see if we can clean the library without you trying to correct the way I hold a broom."
I kept my eyes fixed ahead, my jaw clenched. The ghost of the sword in my dream felt more real than the ground beneath my feet
Chapter end : The chapter ends with Agni and Neer being forced to spend time alone together, with Agni's internal turmoil at its peak. The reader is left wondering how this tense, supervised cleaning session will go, and if Agni will be able to maintain his composure.