The air was filled with the sharp clash of metal on metal. Nandini swung her sword with precision and strength, the movements fluid yet fierce. Her eyes burned with determination, every motion a testament to her skills.
Standing at the edge of the training ground, Aryan froze in his steps. His eyes were glued to her. The way her hair swayed with every strike, the fierce concentration in her eyes—it all captivated him. A soft smile crept onto his lips as he watched, his world narrowing down to just her.
Mid-swing, Nandini caught sight of him. Her hold wavered and her blade froze in mid-air. They locked eyes for a moment, and for that one moment, all around them seemed to recede. Neither said anything, but the air between them crackled with unsaid words.
Slowly, Aryan moved forward, though hesitant, drawn to her like a moth to flame. He took her hand gently, clasping it within his own. She gulped in breaths but didn't draw away. He lowered her sword to the ground and touched her lightly, softly letting go.
Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to steady herself, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Aryan reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers barely grazing her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the closeness.
But then, reality came crashing back. The memories of the palace, and how no one trusted her, and how she was told abandoned she was scared that it will repeat so. She pulled back abruptly, her expression a mix of confusion and regret. Aryan stepped away as well, his own confusion evident.
"I. I was just. there was something stuck. I was removing it," he mumbled, his voice so low that it was almost indistinguishable.
Nandini said nothing. She turned and walked away, leaving Aryan standing there, rooted to the spot, his heart heavy and his mind clouded.
Later that evening, there was much talk in camp about the competition. "Aryan will win again this year, mark my words," declared Viraj in his usual confident tone
But Aryan, sitting at the periphery of the group, hardly heard him. He kept thinking about that moment with Nandini over and over again. Nandini sat equally quiet on the other side of the campfire, thinking of the same thing.
Vaishali noticed that silence was not usual. "Nandini, what's wrong? You look lost. And Aryan, you never sit quiet like this. Did you two fight again?"
"No!" Both spoke at once, their voices louder than intended. Their eyes met briefly before they looked away.
"I'm just tired," Nandini muttered, rising to her feet. "I think I'll call it a night." Without waiting for a response, she walked away.
Aryan stood moments later, excusing himself without a word.
Vaishali, Viraj, Satya, and Arjun exchanged confused glances. "What's going on with them?" Viraj asked, scratching his head.
Sounds of a blade scraping against a whetstone reverberated through the dark room. Aloka sat beside the fire, sharpening his sword with a deliberate precision, his face hard, eyes intent on the task.
The door burst open as Matri stormed in, her frustration evident in every step. "How much longer, Aloka?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "How long will we keep living like this? Hiding in this forsaken place while Aryanagar thrives without us?"Aloka did not look up, his focus unbroken.
"Answer me!" Matri's voice cracked with anger. "Do you even care what this has done to us? To Keshav? He doesn't even know his roots, his legacy!"
Aloka finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "And what do you want me to do, Matri? March back to Aryanagar and demand what we lost? Or risk everything by speaking of things better left buried?"
Her eyes blazed into fury. "You chose this path, Aloka. You chose to save the child over your own blood. Keshav deserves so much more than this life!"
Flashback
Darkness hung over the forest, muffling the regular cacophony of nocturnal sounds. Aloka breathed rapidly, his arms quivering as he hugged the child to his chest. The child moaned, softly, ending the oppressive stillness. Aloka's gaze jerked to look back at his shoulder when a dry rustling could be heard from behind him, bringing up a jolt of fear.
Through the foliage, the temple materialized: old stone glowed with an ethereal light under the moon. He hastened, the crunch of his boots through the forest floor growing urgent. Reaching the steps, he stumbled and let himself go under the weight of exhaustion.
"Panditji!" Aloka's voice cracked as he pounded on the temple door. "Open up!
Please!
The old priest came out moments later, his countenance engraved by concern. "Aloka? What does it mean?" he says. "It's the dead of night—" His words were stifled by whatever he saw in Aloka's arms.
"Please," Aloka pleaded, stepping inside. The dim glow of oil lamps lit up the modest interior of the temple. "I need your help. You must take care of this child, at least for tonight. His life is in grave danger."
The priest hesitated, his hands shaking as he reached for the baby. "Who is this child, Aloka? And why do you bring him here like this?"
Aloka's voice had dropped low, heavy with urgency. "He is the future of Aryanagar. The prince. There was an attack on the palace—an ambush. I had no choice but to take him and run." His words came quick, each one filled with desperation.
The priest's eyes widened. "The prince?" he whispered, glancing at the child. "But why would someone.?
"There's no time to explain," Aloka interrupted, stepping back towards the door. "I'll return for him, but I must ensure no one follows me. Please, Panditji, protect him."
Before the priest could respond, Aloka was gone, disappearing into the night like a shadow.The door of his humble abode creaked open as Aloka entered it, his chest heaving. Matri stood by the hearth, her eyes opening wide at the sight of him. His tunic was smeared with blood, his hair disheveled, and his face pale with exhaustion.
Aloka!" she exclaimed, rushing to him. "What happened? Why are you—" Her voice caught in her throat as her eyes followed the trail of blood on his sleeve. "Whose blood is this?""There's no time to explain," Aloka said, pushing past her. He grabbed a small satchel and began filling it with supplies. "We need to leave. Now.
Matri stared at him, her voice rising. "Leave? What are you talking about? What's going on?"He turned to her, his face grave. "Matri, please. Just do as I say. We're not safe here."Her anger flared. "Not safe? Aloka, you're scaring me! What have you done?"Aloka paused, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his burden. "I. I saved a life," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
She lost herself while following him to the door, so she never got to make him tell her anything else before Aloka disappeared into the night again, walking away to the temple.The priest waited on the steps of the temple with the baby cuddled in his arms. Aloka saw him coming and his heart broke looking at him. The tiny face was all serene with no sense of what was happening with him.
"You came back," the priest said softly. "But what now, Aloka? What will you do?"
Aloka hesitated, his hands shaking as he reached for the baby. "I'll take him with me," he said. "I can't leave him here. It's too dangerous. But I swear to you, Panditji, I'll protect him with my life."When he came back home, Matri was waiting by the door, arms crossed and face mixed with fear and anger. Her eyes widened when she saw the child in his arms.
"Aloka," she said, her voice trembling, "what is this? Whose child is that?
This is Prince Aryan," Aloka said, his voice firm but laced with emotion. "The son of the royal family. Someone attacked the palace tonight. I had no choice but to take him and run. He would have been killed, Matri."
Her face went pale as the truth of his words hit her. "The prince? Aloka, what have you done? You have brought a death sentence to our door!
"I couldn't let him die," Aloka said, his voice firm. "He's just a child, Matri. An innocent."She stared at him, her voice breaking. "And what about our child? What about Keshav? What have you left for him?"
Aloka knelt before her, his eyes filled with anguish. "I swear to you, Matri, I won't let Keshav suffer because of this. I will protect him, as I will protect Aryan. But I couldn't turn my back on this child. Please, trust me."
Matri turned around, her arms tightly locked around herself. "You've put us all at risk, Aloka. I hope you know what you're doing.
Aloka's hold on the baby grew tight as he whispered, more to himself than anyone else, So do I."
Flashback ends
"I didn't choose Aryan over Keshav!" Aloka snapped, his voice rising. "I chose to save an innocent life. What would you have done? Left him to die?" "And what about our family?" Matri shot back, her voice breaking. "Do you even see what you've done to us? To Keshav? If we had stayed in Aryanagar, he would've been someone—a warrior, a leader. Not... this." Aloka's grip tightened on his sword. "Enough, Matri. We can't afford to talk about Aryanagar here. If Aryan or Keshav hears even a word of this..." He trailed off, his voice heavy with warning.
What he did not know was that Aryan, who was standing just beyond the door, had heard all of it. His head spun as he clamped onto the name Aryanagar. What is Aryanagar? Why won't they talk about it? What does it have to do with me?
The next morning, competition preparation was at full swing. Aryan sat inside his tent, absent-mindedly tying his boots. He was in thought, weighing the previous night's revelations.
"Aryan," Nandini broke through his thoughts, but he didn't respond.
She stepped closer, calling again. "Aryan?"
Still no answer. Frustrated, she walked up to him and gently shook his shoulder. "Aryan, are you even listening?"
He snapped out of his daze, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the world stilled again.
"What's going on with you?" she asked softly. "You've been acting strange. Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine," he replied, his tone unconvincing. "Just. a little distracted."
Nandini crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. "You can lie to everyone else, Aryan, but not to me. I know something's wrong."
Aryan hesitated, then looked away.
She stepped closer, her voice steady but warm. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready. But remember this: no matter what happens, I'm here for you. Always. If the whole world turns against you, you'll still have me by your side."
Her words struck a chord in him, and for the first time that day, he felt a flicker of peace.
The competition was grueling, each challenge testing the participants' strength, endurance, and wit. Aryan wanted to fight harder than ever, not for the prize but for the promise Aloka had made—to let him leave the tribe if he won.
Flashback
The firelight dimly lit Aloka's face, etching worry lines and resolve. He sat cross-legged, sharpening his sword with slow, deliberate strokes. Aryan entered the tent, his steps hesitant yet firm, and knelt before Aloka.
"Baba I need to talk to you," Aryan started, his voice steady despite the knot in his throat.Aloka did not look up. "What is it?
Aryan took a deep breath. "Baba, I need answers. I want to know what lies beyond this tribe. I can't live my whole life here, in this bubble!"
The whetstone stopped its rasping against the blade. Aloka's hand stopped moving, and he finally looked up at Aryan. His eyes were piercing, questioning. "And where would you go?
"Beyond the mountains. To the cities. To the world that exists outside this valley." Aryan's words were firm, but Aloka could sense the yearning beneath them.
"You think there's freedom out there?" Aloka's voice was low, almost a growl. "Do you think the world will welcome you with open arms? You don't know what's waiting for you, Aryan."
"I don't care." Aryan's tone hardened. "I've spent my entire life here, fighting battles that aren't mine, following rules that make no sense. I need to find my own path."
Aloka's jaw tightened. "Your path isn't out there. It's here, with us. With the tribe."
Aryan's frustration boiled over. "You don't understand! This isn't my life—it's a cage. And I can't stay in it any longer."
The silence that ensued was suffocating. Aloka finally put down the sword, stood up, and towered over Aryan.
"Do you think I do not understand?" Aloka's voice was dripping in anger, but pain echoed beneath it. "You believe I do not know what it is to give all for something greater? The half of it, you do not know." Aloka continued.
Aryan's fists clenched in response. "Then free me. Let me know for myself."
Aloka finally met Aryan's gaze, his voice heavy. "If you win the competition tomorrow, I will let you leave. But remember, Aryan, the answers you seek might not bring you peace. Some truths are better left hidden."
Aryan stared at him, confused but resolute. "I'll take my chances, Baba. I need to find my own path."
Flashback ends
The competition was Aryan's chance to uncover the truth, to find freedom from the questions that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. Winning this race wasn't just about glory—it was about breaking free, about finding the answers to the mysteries of his past, about gaining the one thing that had eluded him for so long: the truth.
The cool morning air bites at his skin the following morning as Aryan stands on the starting line, but his mind is far from the discomfort. He is focused and his thoughts racing faster than his heart. There is just one thing in his head as the crowd gathers around him, their voices a blur of anticipation: if he wins, Aloka has promised him the freedom to leave. And for Aryan, his only way to comprehend who he actually was was to leave.
The sound of the starting horn broke through his thoughts, and without hesitation, he surged forward. His legs carried him with fierce determination, every muscle straining as he pushed past the obstacles. Each hurdle, each challenge along the way, felt like it wasn't just testing his strength, but his very identity. Every jump, every sprint, he did it for the one thing that had been out of his reach: the truth.
The crowd cheered, their voices swelling with excitement as Aryan sped through the course, each step carrying him closer to the promise he had fought so hard for. But there was one thing he hadn't counted on—the way his focus kept flickering back to one person. The one person who had been by his side throughout everything.Nandini.
As Aryan cleared the final obstacle, he caught sight of her standing among the crowd. Her face, radiant with pride, seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. For a brief moment, everything around him seemed to blur, and it was just Nandini's gaze meeting his. In that look, he saw something more than admiration. Something deeper. Something unspoken.
But he didn't have time for that. His feet struck the ground, his chest bucking with the effort as he crossed the finish line. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Aryan wasn't listening to it anymore. His victory felt far away—something that was supposed to bring him answers but left him with questions.
Nandini didn't take her eyes off him. Her lips were a little parted, as if she, too, was caught in the moment. There was something in her expression-something that made his heart skip a beat. He saw the pride in her, yes, but there was something else. Something more intimate. But Aryan didn't have time to think about that. The reality of his victory settled in. He had won. He could leave. He could now finally search for the truth that had evaded him for so long.
He had a weight, walking through the crowds—the implications of his victory and uncertainty of what was ahead. It was not just a fight for the strongest body, but a battle for one's identity and future. Now that he had conquered this, he knew he was at the very beginning of his journey.Victory was only the beginning of a journey—that would unravel the mysteries of his past, and one that would change everything for Aryan, for Nandini.
But what neither of them knew was that their paths, their fates, were about to collide in ways they couldn't possibly imagine.
The storm was coming, and it would change everything. For everyone.