The dawn broke over Evernest, pale and merciless, its light clawing through a sky heavy with frost. The fields lay still, their golden hues dulled, as if the earth itself mourned. Vairagya stood at the edge of the courtyard, his breath misting in the cold, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The air carried the sharp tang of smoke, and his eyes burned—not from the chill, but from what he was witnessing.
In the center of the courtyard, a pyre burned. Father Mathew stood before it, his robes fluttering as he scattered sacred ash, murmuring prayers that felt too soft for the weight of the moment. The flames devoured the shrouded forms of Yasmin and Rajni, their bodies offered to the gods in the old way, as the rites demanded. The fire crackled, spitting embers into the dawn, and the smoke curled upward, thick and gray, carrying their spirits to whatever lay beyond. Vairagya's chest tightened, his throat raw. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't—Rajni's fire, Yasmin's stillness, they were gone, reduced to ash while he stood here, useless.
The children clustered near the courtyard's edge, their faces pale, some sobbing softly, others staring blankly as the flames danced. Sister Aisha stood among them, her jaw tight, her hands gripping the shoulders of two younger orphans as if to anchor them—or herself. Sister Stacy knelt beside a girl who wept into her skirts, her own eyes red but steady. Sister Hana moved quietly, offering whispered comforts, but her voice trembled. They could only watch, bound by grief, as the pyre consumed what was left of their family.
Vairagya's gaze drifted to the far side of the courtyard. Raghav stood alone, leaning against an oak, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. The dawn light cast shadows across his features, but his eyes were fixed on the pyre, burning with something Vairagya couldn't name—grief, rage, or both. He hadn't spoken to anyone since last night's argument, hadn't joined the others in their tears or prayers. He just watched, solitary, like a sentinel guarding his own pain.
Vairagya's thoughts flickered to Vanshika. She wasn't here. She hadn't left her room since the cloaked figure's attack, since Yasmin's body hit the dirt and Rajni's blood soaked the earth. The memory of her vomiting, her screams as Rajni fell, haunted him. She was traumatized, locked away in her grief, and Vairagya's stomach twisted at the thought. She needed them—needed him—but he didn't know how to reach her.
The pyre's flames began to die, leaving a pile of glowing embers and ash. Mathew stepped back, his prayers fading, and the sisters ushered the children inside, their voices soft but urgent. Vairagya stayed, his feet rooted to the ground, until the courtyard was nearly empty. Raghav hadn't moved, still leaning against the tree, his gaze now on the horizon, as if the answers he sought lay beyond it.
Vairagya's anger flared, sudden and sharp. He crossed the courtyard, his steps heavy, and stopped a few paces from Raghav. "You saw her," he said, voice low, rough. "Vanshika. She's falling apart, Raghav. She hasn't left her room, hasn't eaten. And you're out here, acting like it's nothing, talking about leaving?"
Raghav's eyes flicked to him, cold and steady. "Leave her," he said, voice flat. "She's not our problem right now."
Vairagya's hands balled into fists, heat rising in his chest. "Not our problem? She's our friend, Raghav! She's family! You think you can just walk away, leave her to rot while you play hero?"
Raghav pushed off the tree, stepping closer, his jaw tight. "She'll survive. Or she won't. Either way, staying here won't fix her. It won't fix anything."
Vairagya's anger boiled over, words spilling before he could stop them. "She liked you, you know!" The confession burst out, a bubble of truth he'd held too long. "Vanshika—she's always looked at you like you're some damn star. And you're throwing that away, acting like she's nothing!"
Raghav's expression didn't change, his eyes hard, unphased. "Like I didn't know," he said, voice low, cutting. "Doesn't matter. She's not coming with us. Leave her."
The words hit like a slap, and Vairagya's fists trembled. "You're a bastard," he spat, stepping into Raghav's space. "You think you can just cut her out? She's breaking, and you don't even care!"
Raghav's eyes flashed, and he shoved Vairagya back, hard. "Care? You think I don't care? I'm doing this because I care! Because if I stay, that monster comes back—for me, for her, for everyone! You want to hold her hand and cry? Go ahead. I'm trying to keep us alive!"
Vairagya staggered, catching himself, his breath ragged. The tension crackled between them, raw and electric, but something in Raghav's voice—grief, maybe—made Vairagya pause. He glared, chest heaving, then turned sharply, storming back toward the orphanage. "Forget it," he muttered, voice bitter. "You're not worth it."
He didn't look back, but Raghav's silence followed him, heavy as the dawn.
Inside, the halls were quiet, the air thick with the scent of smoke and sorrow. Vairagya's steps slowed as he reached Vanshika's door. He raised a hand to knock, but his fingers froze an inch from the wood. He could almost feel her on the other side—curled up, eyes red, lost in a grief he didn't know how to touch. He tried the handle, but it was locked, or maybe just stuck, and the resistance felt like a wall between them. His hand fell, and he leaned his forehead against the door, whispering, "I'm sorry, Vanshika." No answer came, and he turned away, the weight of his failure settling deeper.
Night fell, cold and clear, the moon a sharp crescent over Evernest. Vairagya stood on the balcony overlooking the fields, his hands gripping the wooden railing, the chill biting his skin. The stars were bright, but they offered no comfort, only reminders of Mathew's words from years ago—omens, stirrings, a world shifting beneath their feet. He stared at the moon, its light pale and unforgiving, and wondered if he'd ever feel whole again.
Footsteps creaked behind him, and Raghav's voice broke the silence, soft but steady. "It's because I love her, Vaira. Like a sister. That's why I have to leave."
Vairagya turned, startled, finding Raghav leaning against the balcony's edge, his face half-lit by moonlight. His eyes were tired, but there was a fire in them, a resolve that hadn't been there in the courtyard. "What?" Vairagya asked, voice hoarse.
Raghav's gaze didn't waver. "Vanshika. I love her, like family. But staying here won't protect her. If I go, if I get strong, I can come back—strong enough to keep her safe, to keep everyone safe. That's why I'm leaving. So I can be what she needs when I return."
Vairagya's throat tightened, anger flaring anew. "And if she doesn't survive till then? She's breaking, Raghav. She needs people—us—now, not some hero who might never come back."
Raghav's jaw clenched, and he looked away, his voice cold. "That's her problem. If she can't hold on, that's on her. I'm not throwing my life away waiting for her to stand up."
The words cut deep, and Vairagya stared at him, searching for the Raghav he knew—the one who'd laughed with them, fought water wars, called him brother. But this Raghav was different, hardened by grief and purpose. And deep down, Vairagya knew he was right, at least in part. Staying wouldn't heal Vanshika, wouldn't stop the cloaked figure. It was hiding, and Vairagya was tired of feeling helpless.
He took a breath, steadying himself. "Alright," he said, voice low. "I'm in. I'll go with you. But what's the plan? We can't just wander out there and hope."
Raghav's eyes lit up, a spark of hope breaking through his grief. "We don't wander. We train—hard. In the wilds, we hone our mana, learn to fight, find mentors. And then we compete in the Royal Knight Tournament, in Velyndra's capital."
Vairagya frowned, leaning forward. "Tournament? What are you talking about?"
"It's huge," Raghav said, his voice gaining heat. "Draws fighters from all over Akashrastra, not just Velyndra—the whole continent. Three stages: Under-14, Under-17, and Open. U-14 winners get enrolled in the Aetherial Academy, the finest mana-training school in Akashrastra. Kids who go there become legends—masters of mana, warriors who can shake the earth. U-17 winners earn a spot in the Royal Guard, serving the king. Open stage champions join the Elite Royal Guard, skipping ranks, answering only to the crown."
Vairagya's mind raced, the idea both insane and gripping. "So we train for the U-14 stage? In three years, like you said last night? Expect to win and get into the Academy?"
Raghav shook his head, a grim smile tugging at his lips. "No. I'm done with safe learning, Vaira. The Academy's great, but it's slow—years of study, rules, walls. We don't have that kind of time. We're competing in the U-17 stage. The tournament happens twice a year—one just passed, so we've got six months until the next. Six months to train in the wilds, to become strong enough to win and join the Royal Guard."
Vairagya blinked, stunned. "Six months? Against fighters who've trained their whole lives? Raghav, we can't even spark mana properly. Rajni's lessons were games—tag, dodging. You think we can be Royal Guard material in half a year?"
Raghav's smile faded, his voice steady but fierce. "We have to be. Rajni gave us the basics—mana flow, focus. We build on it, push ourselves, find someone to teach us. The wilds aren't safe, but they'll make us sharp. By the time we hit the capital, we'll be ready. And if we win, we're not just strong—we're in the Royal Guard, with the power to hunt that bastard down."
Vairagya's heart pounded, fear and hope twisting together. The plan was madness, but it was a path—something to grip onto, something to fight for. He thought of Vanshika, locked in her room, and the children's tears as the pyre burned. Staying wouldn't save them. Leaving might.
"Alright," Vairagya said, voice hoarse but firm. "Six months. U-17. We train, we fight, we win. But if we die out there, Raghav, I'm haunting you."
Raghav's grin was sharp, almost feral. "Deal. We leave at dawn, three days from now. Be ready."
As Raghav turned to go, a faint hum stirred the air—not wind, but something deeper, like a pulse from the earth. Vairagya's skin prickled, and he glanced at the courtyard below, where Rajni's staff still leaned against a wall. In the moonlight, a small carving gleamed—a crescent moon, pulsing faintly with mana, unnoticed by all but the night's shadows.