The early morning mist clung to the earth like a secret, its damp fingers grazing the soles of Arjun's sandals as he made his way down the winding village road. Beside him, Meera walked in silence, her thoughts as heavy as the air around them.
They hadn't spoken much since the discovery of the fragment. Arjun's mind raced with questions, but the quiet weight of the stone in his pocket kept him grounded. The glow had faded, but its power—its pull—had only grown stronger. The voice he'd heard at the banyan tree echoed in his mind, like a forgotten prayer: Seek the Eternal Flame. The truth lies in the ashes of the past.
"Are we really doing this?" Meera asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was quiet but firm. "This journey… it feels dangerous, Arjun."
Arjun didn't look at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the sun had just begun to rise, casting golden hues over the village. "I don't know what it means, Meera. But I feel like I have to follow it. The flame, the idols, the gods—they're not just stories. I have to find out why this fragment called to me."
Meera hesitated. "But why now? The gods left the world long ago. They've abandoned us."
"That's just it," Arjun said, his voice rising with passion. "What if they didn't leave? What if they're still watching, still waiting for someone to understand? What if this is our chance to learn what they truly want from us?"
Meera fell quiet. She had always been the more cautious one, grounding Arjun's lofty ideas with her practical wisdom. But even she couldn't deny the burning curiosity in his eyes. She had seen it before—his unrelenting need to seek the unknown.
"I'll go with you," she said finally.
Arjun turned to her, gratitude flooding his chest. "Thank you."
The path ahead of them was unclear, but the fragment in his pocket felt heavier now, as though urging him forward. They reached the outskirts of the village, where the Ganga wound its way through the landscape, a shimmering ribbon of blue under the early light.
"You know where we're headed?" Meera asked as they reached the riverbank.
Arjun nodded. "To the temple of Agni, the god of fire. I've heard stories, but no one knows exactly where it is. All I know is that the Eternal Flame is said to lie in the ashes of a forgotten temple, buried somewhere in the mountains beyond the river."
"The mountains…" Meera murmured. "They're treacherous. People say only fools venture there."
"We're not fools," Arjun replied, determination in his voice. "We're seekers. And that's enough."
As they crossed the river by boat, Arjun felt the pulse of the stone in his pocket, as if the river itself was guiding them forward. They reached the opposite bank as the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows over the rugged terrain that stretched before them. The mountain range loomed in the distance, its peaks shrouded in mist.
"We'll need supplies," Meera said, already turning to the nearest village to gather food and water.
Arjun nodded, his gaze fixed on the mountains ahead. The voice had spoken of the Eternal Flame, and he would follow its call. There were dangers ahead, that much was certain. But he couldn't turn back now—not when the gods themselves seemed to be watching, waiting for him to uncover the truth.
As they gathered their provisions, Arjun couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was already watching them. In the stillness of the morning, the faintest whisper of wind seemed to carry a message just beyond his reach.
It was then that he saw it: a figure, standing at the edge of the village, cloaked in white. The figure was tall, with an aura of quiet authority, like someone who belonged to a world beyond this one. Their eyes, though hidden by a hood, seemed to glow with an inner fire, just like the fragment in Arjun's pocket.
Without a word, the figure turned and began walking towards the mountains, their footsteps silent but sure.
"Who was that?" Meera asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"I don't know," Arjun replied, his heart pounding. "But I think we're not the only ones looking for the Eternal Flame."