The road from the ravine curved into a vast plain of dark stone and crimson grass. The sky here burned with hues of copper and violet, as if dawn and dusk had chosen to coexist.
Ganesh and Aneet walked in steady silence, both still carrying the echo of her trial.
Two flames.
Now fully awake.
Ahead, a lone fortress of black basalt rose from the plain — not towering, but broad and ancient, carved with symbols of both light and shadow. No banners flew above it.
No armies guarded its walls.
Yet the air around it was heavy with power.
Ganesh slowed.
"This place isn't hostile," he said. "But it isn't harmless either."
Aneet nodded.
"It feels… guarded by intent, not force."
As they approached the gate, it opened by itself.
No creak.
No sound.
Just space making way.
Inside lay a wide courtyard where a single figure stood.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Skin dark like obsidian, eyes glowing faintly amber. His hair was bound back, and he wore simple armor marked with no sigil of any clan.
An Asura.
But not one of rage or hunger.
This one stood still.
Waiting.
Ganesh stepped forward.
"You called us," he said, not as a question.
The asura inclined his head slightly.
"Yes," he replied. His voice was deep, controlled. "I am Keral."
Aneet's hand hovered near her bow, but she did not draw.
"We don't usually receive invitations from asuras," she said.
Keral's lips curved faintly.
"That is why I sent it," he replied. "Those who expect hostility rarely listen."
Ganesh studied him.
"You walk dharma," he said quietly.
Keral's eyes widened just a fraction.
"So you see it too," he said. "Good. Then this will not be wasted."
He gestured for them to enter.
They stepped into the courtyard.
Keral turned and walked toward the center, where a simple stone seat rested — not a throne.
"Sit, if you wish," he said. "I will not trap you."
Ganesh remained standing.
"We prefer to stand," he said.
Keral nodded.
"As do I," he replied.
He looked between them.
"I have heard whispers of two cheeranjiv flames who walk without banners," Keral said. "One who bends currents. One who reflects them."
Aneet frowned.
"We don't spread our names," she said.
Keral smiled faintly.
"The world does, when it is moved," he replied.
Ganesh asked, "Why call us here?"
Keral's gaze hardened.
"Because both devas and asuras hunt me," he said. "For different reasons. And I am tired of running from both."
Aneet crossed her arms.
"Let me guess," she said. "The devas call you a threat. The asuras call you a traitor."
Keral nodded.
"Yes."
Ganesh tilted his head.
"Why?"
Keral looked toward the distant horizon.
"Because I refuse to kneel," he said. "To either."
Ganesh's fire stirred.
"Tell us your road," he said.
Keral faced them again.
"I was born among war-lords," he said. "Taught that devas were liars, thieves of our birthright. That strength alone decides worth."
He clenched his fist.
"I believed it. For a long time."
Then he relaxed.
"Until I saw an asura village burned by our own kind because they refused to join a raid," he said. "Children. Elders. Burned for disobedience."
Aneet's jaw tightened.
Keral continued.
"That night, I walked away," he said. "I vowed never again to raise my hand for hunger or pride."
Ganesh nodded slowly.
"And the devas?"
Keral laughed bitterly.
"They saw my strength and offered me a place among them," he said. "If I swore loyalty. If I turned against my own."
He looked at Ganesh.
"I refused that too."
Aneet met his gaze.
"So now both sides want you dead," she said.
"Yes," Keral replied. "Because I show that their war is not the only story."
Ganesh was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "What do you want from us?"
Keral stepped closer.
"To know if there truly is a road where one does not have to choose a banner to walk dharma," he said. "If you are that road… then I will walk with you, even if it costs me everything."
Aneet exchanged a glance with Ganesh.
Then she stepped forward.
"We won't promise safety," she said. "And we won't promise victory."
Ganesh added, "Only that if you walk dharma, we won't judge you by your birth."
Keral's eyes shone.
"That is all I ask," he said.
At that moment, the air trembled.
From above, a blaze of golden light descended, resolving into a squad of devas, clad in radiant armor, led by a tall, stern figure bearing Indra's mark.
And from the shadows beyond the walls, dark forms emerged — asura hunters, eyes burning red, weapons raised.
They had found him.
The courtyard filled with tension.
The deva leader called out:
"Keral, by order of the Devas, you will come with us. You are too dangerous to be left free."
From the shadows, an asura roared:
"Traitor! Your blood will cleanse your shame!"
Keral did not move.
He looked at Ganesh and Aneet.
"So," he said quietly. "This is where I learn if your road is real."
Ganesh stepped forward between the two forces.
"No," he said calmly. "This is where they do."
Aneet moved to his side, bow in hand, but not drawn.
"We will not let you turn this place into a battlefield," she said. "Not for pride. Not for fear."
The deva leader sneered.
"You side with an asura against us?"
Ganesh met his gaze.
"I side with dharma," he said. "If that offends you, look at yourself."
The asura hunter laughed.
"Then you will die with him!"
Aneet's eyes narrowed.
"Try," she said.
But before either side could strike, Ganesh raised his hand.
The fire within him surged.
Not outward.
Inward.
The ground beneath him glowed faintly, forming a circle of light around the three of them.
Not a barrier.
A declaration.
"Any who step into this circle to kill," Ganesh said, voice steady,
"will answer to me. Not as deva or asura — but as one who chose violence when restraint stood before them."
Silence fell.
The devas hesitated.
The asuras growled, but did not advance.
Aneet lifted her bow slowly, arrow nocked, pointing not at any heart — but at the ground between the factions.
"This arrow is not meant to kill," she said.
"It is meant to remind. The first to cross will learn how sharp stillness can be."
The air trembled.
Keral watched them, awe in his eyes.
Ganesh turned to him.
"Now choose," he said. "Not between them. Between the road you spoke of… and fear."
Keral straightened.
He stepped forward — not toward either army.
But into the circle.
"I choose this road," he said. "Even if it is lonely."
Ganesh nodded.
"Then it won't be," he said.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then the deva leader snarled and lowered his spear.
"This is not over," he said. "The heavens will not forget this insult."
Ganesh replied calmly, "Then they should learn to."
The devas withdrew in a blaze of light.
The asura hunters hissed in rage, then melted back into the shadows.
The courtyard grew quiet again.
Keral exhaled slowly.
"You stood against both," he said. "For me."
Ganesh shook his head.
"For dharma," he said. "You just happened to be standing there."
Aneet smiled faintly.
"And now you are," she said, "walking with us."
Keral bowed deeply.
"Then I walk until my strength fails," he said. "And even after, if memory remains."
Ganesh placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Strength isn't why we walk," he said. "It's because we refuse to stop."
Together, the three of them looked out toward the open plain.
A new road waited.
Not marked by banners.
Only by choice.