The silence between us was a living thing, thick and suffocating.
We rode out from the Gurukul as the first light of dawn bled into the sky, painting the world in hues of rose and gold that felt like a mockery. The farewells had been hushed, solemn. Gurudev's blessing felt less like a benediction and more like a sentence. We were not just disciples on a mission; we were a prince and a sacrifice, a weapon and its whetstone, riding towards an altar.
I kept my eyes on the path ahead, the rhythmic clop of my horse's hooves a futile attempt to impose order on the chaos in my mind. I could feel Neer's presence beside me like a physical weight. He hadn't spoken a word since we left, his usual chatter buried under the grim reality Gurudev had unveiled.
The forest around us was waking up. Birds chirped, monkeys chattered in the canopy, and the air was fresh with the scent of dew and damp earth. It was a world blissfully unaware of the cosmic tragedy riding through its heart.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence. His voice was flat, stripped of its usual mocking lilt.
"So," he said, not looking at me. "The Divine Bow."
I nodded, my jaw tight. "Yes."
Another stretch of silence, broken only by the sounds of the forest and our journey.
"And this… power inside me," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "This… vessel. Did you know?"
The question hung in the air, sharp and accusatory. I forced myself to meet his gaze. The stormy blue of his eyes was clouded with a confusion I had never seen before.
"Not until last night," I replied, my voice hoarse. "The dreams… I only ever saw the end. I never knew why."
He let out a short, bitter laugh that held no humor. "Of course. The perfect prince, following his destiny to the letter, even if it's a death sentence. For me." He spurred his horse forward slightly, putting a few feet of distance between us, as if my very presence was a contamination.
The rest of the morning passed in a tense, unspoken truce. We spoke only when necessary, our words clipped and functional. "The path forks here." "We should rest the horses." "There's a stream ahead."
It was a dance of avoidance, a mutual agreement not to poke the raw, gaping wound that now lay between us. Every glance he stole in my direction felt like he was measuring me for a coffin. Every time I looked at him, I saw the phantom glow of the blade in my hand.
By midday, the sun was high and hot. We reached a small, clear river and decided to water the horses and rest. The silence was becoming unbearable, a screaming void filled with everything we couldn't say.
I was checking my horse's tack when Neer spoke again, his back to me as he stared into the flowing water.
"Gurudev said you would have to… cleanse the vessel." He said the words as if they were poison on his tongue. "What does that mean, Agni? In plain words. No scriptures, no prophecies. Just the truth."
I froze, my hands stilling on the leather straps. The truth. It was a weapon I didn't want to wield.
I turned to face him. He had turned around now, his arms crossed, his expression a mask of defiant resignation.
"You know what it means, Neer," I said quietly, the words feeling like ash in my mouth.
"I want to hear you say it," he insisted, his eyes blazing. "I want to hear the Acharya's favorite disciple, the paragon of duty, say out loud what his sacred mission entails."
The air crackled between us. The river's gentle babble seemed to fade away.
"It means," I said, each word a struggle, "that if the ritual begins, if the darkness tries to claim you… the only way to stop it, to purify you, is to…" I couldn't say it. The word lodged in my throat, a final, unforgivable betrayal.
"To kill me," Neer finished for me, his voice dangerously calm. "Say it, Agni. To kill me."
The confirmation hung in the air, ugly and final. I could only look at him, the weight of my destiny crushing the breath from my lungs.
He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a faint, heartbreaking echo of his old smile.
"At least you're honest," he said softly. He turned and walked back to his horse, swinging himself into the saddle. "Let's go. We're wasting daylight."
He kicked his horse into a trot, leaving me standing by the riverbank. I watched him go, the solitary figure on the road, and felt a chasm open up between us that I feared no journey could ever cross.
We were on the road to retrieve a divine weapon, but all I could see was the road to nowhere, leading to a single, inescapable moment where I would have to look into his eyes and become his executioner.
And the most terrifying part was the tiny, traitorous voice in my heart that whispered a prayer for any other path, a voice that sounded suspiciously like the boy I used to be, before the dreams, before the prophecy. Before I knew the price of my duty.
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: The chapter ends with the horrific truth laid bare between them, shattering any pretense of a normal mission and establishing their journey as a slow, painful march towards a seemingly inevitable betrayal.