Vihan rode alone.
The wind howled through the valleys, carrying with it the scent of earth and distant rain. The rhythmic pounding of his horse's hooves against the dirt was the only sound accompanying him, save for the whisper of fate in his mind.
Find me.
It had been days since he left his stronghold. Days of riding, of crossing rivers and cutting through dense forests, guided only by a force he could not name.
Vihan had never chased shadows before. He had always trusted only what was tangible—steel in his hand, the weight of his armor, the scent of battle thick in the air. But this was different.
This was her.
The road stretched endlessly before him, winding through shifting landscapes. He had passed through golden fields, sun-drenched cliffs, and thick woodlands where the canopy was so dense it felt like night even at midday. He had slept under the stars, the dream of Aaravi lingering at the edges of his consciousness, always just out of reach.
But tonight, something felt different.
The fire in his chest burned hotter.
As Vihan set up camp near a small river, he sensed it—a shift in the air.
Something was coming.
Or perhaps, he was getting closer.
Travel had not been without its challenges.
Vihan had encountered bandits on the road, drawn to the sight of a lone rider, their greed outweighing their caution. They had underestimated him.
Steel had clashed beneath the moonlight, and when the dust had settled, the bandits lay in the dirt, groaning in pain, their weapons scattered like broken promises.
Vihan had wiped the blood from his blade, his movements calculated, efficient. These men were not his concern.
He had only one destination.
He left them behind, riding on without a second glance.
The further he traveled, the more he felt it—the slow unraveling of something within him. The battle-hardened warrior was giving way to something else, something unfamiliar.
Something soft.
Was it weakness?
Or was it the first taste of freedom?
For years, he had carried his past like a shield, convinced that fire could only destroy, never heal.
But now…
Now, he wondered if fire could also light the way.
The night was deep when she came again.
Vihan sat by the fire, sharpening his blade, when the air around him grew thick—too thick. The fire flickered unnaturally, bending toward the shape that materialized before him.
Sharvani!
She stood at the edge of the firelight, golden fur gleaming, her eyes filled with something between amusement and malice.
"You ride toward something you do not understand," she purred, circling him.
Vihan didn't react. He had long since learned that showing weakness before her only made her linger.
"You still follow me," he said flatly. "Do you have nothing better to haunt?"
She laughed, low and sweet, but it was hollow. She was hollow.
"I do not need to follow you, my love. You carry me with you."
Vihan tensed. He hated when she did this—when she spoke in riddles, reminding him that his past had teeth that still sank deep.
"You think she will save you?" Sharvani mused, tilting her head. "This… peacock girl? You think she will take away your fire? Make you something new?"
Vihan clenched his jaw. "She does not need to save me."
Sharvani smirked. "Then what do you need, Vihan?"
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Sharvani watched him for a moment longer before sighing, the sound almost wistful.
"You think you have escaped me," she murmured. "But fire does not forget the forest it has burned."
And just like that—she was gone.
The fire crackled, returning to normal, and Vihan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.
No.
He was not running from something.
He was riding toward something.
And he was close.
He could feel it.
The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, Vihan saw her again.
Not in the flesh.
But in the river's reflection.
As he knelt to drink, the water shimmered, and for the briefest moment, Aaravi's face appeared beneath the surface.
Golden light framed her features, her sapphire eyes locking onto his, and though no words were spoken, he felt it—
The pull.
The fire.
The certainty.
He did not flinch this time.
He did not question it.
He simply stood.
And rode faster than ever.