Chapter 40: The Curtain Falls
The final scene of the play was upon them. Tara could feel the weight of the moment hanging in the air, a mixture of excitement and dread. As Sita and Ram, they had come to the emotional climax of their performance—Ram's final declaration of love for Sita before the battle that would separate them.
But for them, it was more than just performance. It was an unspoken promise—a fleeting moment of truth hidden behind the guise of their roles.
Samudra's eyes, though still in character, softened as he gazed at her, his posture shifting. He stepped closer to her, their bodies nearly aligned now, as if the stage itself could no longer contain the emotions that were building between them.
The world around them seemed to slow. The vibrant colors of the play, the sounds of the cheering crowd—all of it faded into a distant blur. It was just the two of them now, standing in the eye of a storm they both knew was coming.
He's not just playing along, is he? He feels it too.
Tara, caught in the whirlwind of the performance and the rising tension in the air, allowed herself a fleeting moment of vulnerability.
In front of the entire audience, as the final words were spoken, Samudra gently pulled her into a hug. It wasn't just a stage embrace; it was something more, something raw and full of unspoken truth. The audience gasped, moved by the authenticity of their connection.
Tara's heartbeat thundered in her chest as she rested her head against Samudra's shoulder, her arms wrapping instinctively around his waist. Their characters, Sita and Ram, had always been bound by love, but in this fleeting moment, their real selves seemed to blur.
Her breath hitched as Samudra's arms wrapped around her. The warmth of his touch, the way his body pressed close to hers—it was real. The connection was real. And Tara felt herself sinking deeper into it, even as her mind screamed for caution.
A sigh escaped her lips, a quiet breath of relief mixed with something else—something she couldn't name. Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding him close as if anchoring herself to the moment before everything fell apart.
"Ram…" Tara whispered softly, her voice trembling, though not from the cold. "I will never forget you… in this life and the next."
Samudra's hand gently stroked her back as he whispered back, his voice deep and sincere, "And I will fight for you—always."
The moment seemed to last forever, though it was only a few seconds. As they pulled apart, the curtains of the stage fell, signaling the end of the play. The audience erupted into applause, their cheers echoing across the town square. But Tara's mind was elsewhere, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions that had stirred within her.
The actors, still in their costumes, quickly gathered at the center of the stage for their final bows. Samudra stood beside Tara, their hands brushing occasionally as they took their places.
And then, the finale—a fire arrow would be shot to burn the towering Ravan puppet standing at the back of the stage. As the leader of the performance, Samudra was tasked with igniting the ceremonial arrow. The crowd waited in eager anticipation.
The fire arrow was lit, its flame flickering like a heartbeat as it was passed to Samudra. The crowd, excited by the play's climax, was unaware of the subtle dangers hidden in the shadows. The Ravan puppet, towering above the town square, loomed ominously as the arrow was aimed toward it, ready to burn it to the ground. Tara stood by the edge of the stage, her heart racing, her gaze flickering between the celebration and the growing unease building within her.
I have to focus...
Tara's gaze flicked instinctively to the towering puppet. She felt it—the shift in the atmosphere. The Sect's assassins were on the move.
For a brief moment, their eyes locked. Samudra and Tara didn't need words to understand each other. Instinctively, they knew what was about to happen. The Sect's assassins had chosen this moment, when the arrow was shot, to strike. It was the perfect cover—a distraction the entire town would be focused on, and they wouldn't notice the shadows moving through the crowd.
The play had been a perfect ruse, and now it was time to slip away.
As the bowstring was drawn and the fire arrow was let loose, the crowd's cheers reached a deafening crescendo. The arrow arced high into the sky, flames licking the air as it sailed toward the puppet.
Tara's thoughts were sharp, every movement feeling more deliberate than usual. The noise of the crowd, the laughter, the cheers, all felt like a distant hum, muffled in her ears as her senses heightened. Samudra stood beside her, his presence a constant, yet strangely comforting. His character was playful, his expression ever so mischievous. But his eyes—those eyes—spoke volumes that his lips never did.
He's hiding it too... Tara thought, her heart skipping a beat as she caught the briefest glimpse of something flickering behind his carefree gaze. A deep, unspoken understanding passed between them.
Her fingers trembled, but not because of fear. No, it was something else. The chaos that was about to unfold, the risk they were taking, the danger of slipping away unnoticed—all of it made her feel both alive and terrified. Her powers, still suppressed in this time, made her feel vulnerable in a way she hadn't felt before. And yet... there was something about Samudra's presence that grounded her, even in the midst of this tension.
"Let's go." Samudra's voice was low, barely a whisper, but his words were clear. His gaze caught hers once more. His lips curled into a smile, but there was an edge to it, something darker that mirrored her own thoughts.
In the chaos of the moment, Samudra and Tara moved as one, slipping into the shadows without a second thought.
Their movements were fluid and practiced. Tara moved silently, her steps light, as Samudra followed her effortlessly, their teamwork flawless. They didn't look at each other, but their coordination was beyond anything that could be explained by mere chance. There was no hesitation, no doubt in their steps. It was as if they had done this a thousand times before.
As the fire arrow struck the Ravan puppet, igniting it in a burst of flames, the crowd erupted into cheers. Amidst the confusion, Samudra and Tara disappeared into the alleyways, their forms swallowed by the darkness of the night.
---
Meanwhile, Azeus, perched on a nearby rooftop in his cat form, was watching the unfolding scene below. His green eyes, eerily glowing in the dim light, tracked every movement with precision. Beneath his playful exterior, a storm of thoughts churned.
This is it… Azeus' mind was sharp, calculating. They've strayed from the script. Their actions are too... real. Too impulsive. Tara and Samudra—there's more between them than I anticipated.
His tail flicked with annoyance. He had been watching over Aryan, but now his focus shifted slightly. He could sense the assassins closing in. They were moving through the alleys with deadly precision, their steps silent but sure. It was almost as though they were waiting for the fire arrow to be shot, knowing that the chaos would provide the perfect cover for their strike.
Damn it, they've timed this perfectly.
Azeus knew the assassins weren't just any ordinary group. They were skilled, coordinated, and ruthless. But what made them dangerous wasn't just their numbers—it was the way they blended into the chaos, becoming one with the shadows. He could feel their presence, their movements sharp and deliberate. A knife's edge ready to cut into the fabric of the play.
And then, there was Aryan.
He's not aware yet... but he will be soon. Azeus' eyes narrowed. This kid—he's too reckless. He thinks he can handle it alone. But he's wrong.
From his vantage point, Azeus could see Aryan weaving through the streets, his injuries slowing him down but not stopping him. The younger man was a fighter, no doubt, but he was not invincible. Azeus could feel the pulse of danger rising, and the need to act was growing stronger.
But he didn't. Not yet.
Let him fight. Let him grow. He needs to learn his limits. I'll step in when the time is right.
Azeus' tail twitched again. He couldn't afford to reveal his true nature here, not in this crowded town full of prying eyes. The dragon of time was a force to be reckoned with, but his powers were best kept in reserve for now.
---
Aryan, meanwhile, was already moving through the streets, his steps quick but careful. His mind raced as he darted through the narrow alleys, heading toward a secluded location where he could regroup. The fire arrow had been a signal—a distraction—and now he needed to stay one step ahead.
His side was bleeding, a shallow wound from an earlier scuffle, but he pushed through the pain. I'll be fine, he reassured himself, though his thoughts were clouded with the need to act fast.
As he reached a hidden passageway leading to a secluded courtyard, he glanced behind him, his sharp eyes scanning the rooftops. Azeus was watching from above. The cat-like figure perched high, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness, never blinking, always alert.
Azeus's voice echoed in Aryan's mind, "You're injured, but you're not alone. I'm here."
Aryan's lips curled into a smirk as he ducked into the shadows. "I don't need backup. Just keep an eye on me, and we'll be fine."
Azeus did not respond verbally but moved with uncanny precision, his sleek form following Aryan's every move from the rooftops. He could feel the tension in the air—the assassins were closing in, but they had to be careful. Azeus had no intention of revealing his true power, not yet. The people in the town didn't know what he was, and that needed to stay that way.
As Aryan entered the courtyard, he quickly sought cover behind a large stone statue. The wound on his side throbbed, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. The Sect would strike soon, and he needed to be ready.
He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, focusing on the surroundings. The plan had been set in motion, but now, everything depended on him. His role was to be the distraction, to keep the assassins from realizing that Samudra and Tara had already slipped away. They needed to think Aryan was still in the play, part of the ruse. That was their best chance.
The tension in the air was palpable, and though he was alone in the courtyard, Aryan didn't feel truly isolated. Azeus's watchful gaze was always there, a silent guardian, ready to intervene if necessary.
Back on the streets, the fire arrow had burnt the Ravan puppet to the ground, sending sparks flying into the sky. The crowd was in chaos, many cheering, some fleeing the flames. But beneath the noise, Aryan could sense the assassins moving, preparing to make their move.
And somewhere, in the darkness, Samudra and Tara were working together, slipping through the night, their fates intertwined in a way neither of them fully understood yet.
---
Tara and Samudra made their way toward the exit of the town, the chaos of the play still echoing in the distance. Their hearts beat in sync, both acutely aware of the danger lurking in every corner. They had split from Aryan and Azeus for a reason—confusion, chaos, and misdirection were their best tools.
But as they moved through the shadows, Tara couldn't help but feel the pull of Samudra's presence. The closeness between them, the unspoken connection—they were more than just allies now.
This isn't just survival anymore.
Her thoughts echoed in the silence, but she pushed them aside. There was no room for hesitation—not now.
The night was far from over.