Dawn crawled over the forest like a wounded animal—slow, uneven, streaked in a bruised shade of red. The night's terror clung to the trees, as if the shadows feared letting go.
Aarvian stood outside the healer's hut, breathing in the cold air. His mind was a battlefield of half-formed memories and the raw instinct of something divine he could not yet name. His hands still tingled with the golden light he had unleashed.
It felt natural… too natural.
Inside, Saanviya paced restlessly, her braid swinging softly as she gathered vials, herbs, and charms from the shelves. She had not slept, and her eyes made no attempt to hide it.
"You need rest," Aarvian said as he stepped inside.
She snorted, tying her satchel shut. "Rest? After what I saw last night? If I close my eyes, that thing will follow me into my dreams."
He couldn't argue with her. Something ancient had reached through the body of a dying bandit just to acknowledge him. That alone was enough to shatter the peace of any mortal.
"Whatever that creature was," she continued, her voice quieter now, "it knew you. And not as a simple man."
Aarvian met her gaze. "I don't know what I am."
A lie, but the closest he could offer. He felt the truth inside him, pulsing like a second heartbeat: a throne of fire, a battlefield soaked in the blood of gods, a betrayal by hands once trusted. Images flickered at the edges of his memory—his lover's scream, a blade striking his back, a temple collapsing in divine fury.
But names… faces… purpose…Gone.
Saanviya tightened her grip on her satchel. "Then we need to go somewhere safer. This forest is too open. And if that shadow can possess even dying men…"
"It will try again," Aarvian finished.
She nodded. "The nearest settlement is Vaikunthlok. A small town. Peaceful. Protected by old rites. The people there don't tolerate anything unholy. If we're lucky, they might even have someone who can read spiritual disturbances."
Aarvian studied her for a moment. She was trying to be brave, covering fear with logic. There was strength in that—raw, human strength. The kind gods often underestimated.
"Pack only essentials," he said. "We travel now."
Outside, the forest rustled with a wind too cold for the hour. Birds that normally filled the morning with chatter were silent, perched with wings tucked tightly, as if hiding from something unseen.
Saanviya stepped beside him. "Aarvian… last night, the power you used—have you ever done something like that before?"
He answered honestly. "My body remembers something my mind doesn't."
"Do you think it will come back?"
Aarvian looked at his hand, flexing his fingers. The faint glimmer of golden residue shimmered before fading.
"It already is."
Their journey began on a dusty trail winding through the woods. Saanviya walked ahead, her steps swift and sure. Aarvian kept pace effortlessly, scanning every branch, every shift of wind.
Hours passed. The trees thinned. The path opened to rolling fields touched by sunlight—an ordinary picture of mortal life.
Yet beneath it all, something shifted. His instincts screamed. Not danger…Recognition.
Aarvian stopped. Hard.
Saanviya turned. "What is it?"
He stared at the horizon. A faint shimmer, like heat rippling over stone, warped the air. Only someone with divine instincts could perceive it.
A seal.A ward.An ancient boundary meant to keep gods out—or trap them in.
Aarvian's pulse thundered.He knew this magic.
Not because he had learned it—but because he had created it.
A memory tore through him so violently he staggered. A temple of golden pillars. His lover's hand in his. A divine seal forming under his command as war drums thundered in the heavens.
Then—a scream.Blood.A blade from behind.His own sigil turning against him.
Aarvian gasped as the world snapped back into focus.
Saanviya grabbed his arm. "Aarvian! What happened? Your eyes— they turned gold."
He steadied himself, voice low. "My past… it's waking up."
She swallowed hard. "Is that a good thing?"
Aarvian looked again at the shimmering boundary stretching toward Vaikunthlok.
"It depends who reaches it first—me…or the one who killed me."
The wind shifted.The seal glowed faintly.Something beyond it moved. Watching.
Aarvian stepped forward, each motion echoing with buried divinity.
Whatever waited on the other side, mortal or not, the path ahead promised only one thing—conflict written in fate.
Sky Dragonmire's Quote:
"The past never sleeps; it only waits for your footsteps to return."