The world was beautiful.
Anand knew that.
He could see it—everywhere.
The sky stretched endlessly above him, a vast canvas of blue so clear it almost shimmered with life. Sunlight filtered through the tall trees, scattering golden patterns across the forest floor. Leaves rustled gently in the wind, whispering secrets only the forest understood. Birds sang in layered melodies, their voices weaving through the air, while butterflies drifted lazily from flower to flower, as if time itself had slowed just for them.
It was… perfect.
The kind of scenery people dreamed of.
The kind of place he would have stopped to admire, maybe even take pictures of—if he still had that luxury.
If he wasn't completely, utterly exhausted.
"…Yeah… beautiful…" Anand muttered under his breath, dragging his feet forward.
His voice lacked any real appreciation.
Because right now—
Beauty didn't matter.
Pain did.
He had been walking for six hours straight.
Six.
Hours.
Since dawn.
And his legs were staging a full rebellion.
Each step felt heavier than the last. His shoulders ached under the weight of his bag, his boots pressed uncomfortably against his sore feet, and sweat dripped from his brow, tracing slow, irritating paths down his face.
His breathing was uneven.
His throat dry.
His entire body screamed one thing:
Stop.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Because ahead of him, walking at the same steady pace as always, was Satyaka.
Unbothered.
Unstoppable.
As if the concept of exhaustion simply did not apply to him.
"…How… are you still walking like that…" Anand muttered, half to himself, half in disbelief.
No response.
Of course.
Because that was how it had been—
For three weeks.
Three weeks.
Anand let out a tired laugh.
Three weeks ago, he had started this journey with excitement.
Energy.
Optimism.
Adventure.
He could still remember that first morning clearly.
The thrill of stepping out of the ashram. The feeling of finally moving toward something bigger. The anticipation of seeing new places, meeting new people, understanding this world.
Back then—
He had walked ahead of Satyaka.
Fast. Eager.
Talking.
Always talking.
"So, how far do you think we'll get today?"
Silence.
"Do you think we'll pass through a village?"
A nod.
"Is there anything interesting around this area?"
"…There is a river to the east."
"Oh, nice! Maybe we can stop there—"
"We will not."
"…Right."
Conversations like that.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Anand groaned at the memory.
"I tried, man… I really tried…"
Satyaka wasn't rude.
He wasn't cold.
He was just… minimal.
If Anand said something correct, he would nod.
If Anand said something wrong, he would correct it.
That was it.
No elaboration.
No curiosity.
No conversation.
Walking beside him felt less like traveling with a companion and more like… following a very disciplined, very quiet machine.
"…Should've just brought a rock," Anand muttered. "At least I could talk to that and pretend it listens."
Still no response.
Not that he expected one.
The path sloped downward.
Then upward.
Then downward again.
Anand stared at it with disbelief.
"…This again?"
Satyaka didn't slow down.
"This is the shortest route," he said calmly.
"Shortest for who?" Anand shot back weakly. "A mountain goat?"
No answer.
Anand sighed.
Of course.
Because apparently, in Satyaka's world, the shortest path wasn't the easiest—
It was the most direct.
Even if it meant climbing slopes that made Anand question every life decision that had led him here.
"…I hate direct paths…" he muttered.
The journey had not been entirely miserable.
There had been moments.
Moments where they passed through small villages, where strangers welcomed them with simple kindness. Moments where they rested under the shade of massive trees, eating fruits gathered from the forest. Moments where the road felt less like a burden and more like a quiet experience.
Sometimes, they stayed in homes offered by villagers.
Other times, they found shelters built for travelers—simple structures, but enough to rest.
And occasionally—
Ashrams.
Anand's eyes softened slightly as he remembered the previous night.
They had arrived just before dusk.
A quiet place.
Familiar in its atmosphere.
He had been welcomed without question.
Fed without expectation.
Given a place to sleep that felt… comfortable.
Safe.
For the first time in days, his body had truly relaxed.
"…That was nice…" he murmured.
Too nice.
Because now—
Now he missed it.
Missed the stillness.
The rest.
The feeling of not having to move.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
His legs trembled slightly as he took another step.
Then another.
Then—
"…Why did I do this…" he groaned.
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
"Why did I think this was a good idea…?"
He could picture it so clearly.
Himself.
Standing confidently in the ashram.
Smirking.
"I'm a grown adult. I can handle it."
"…Idiot…" Anand muttered.
His past self had been so sure.
So confident.
So completely unaware of what six hours of continuous walking actually felt like.
"I could've stayed…" he continued, his voice low and filled with regret. "Nice peaceful ashram… good food… no walking…"
Another step.
Pain.
"I had a bed…"
Another step.
More pain.
"I had shade…"
Another.
"I had dignity…"
"…Now I have blisters."
He sighed.
Deeply.
Tragically.
"I curse my past self," he declared quietly. "May he walk this path himself."
"Anand."
The voice cut through his thoughts.
He blinked.
Satyaka had stopped.
That alone was enough to shock him.
"…Wait… what?" Anand looked up, confused.
Satyaka raised his hand, pointing ahead.
Anand followed his gaze.
And froze.
In the distance—
Beyond the trees—
He could see it.
A village.
Not small.
Not massive—but large enough to be unmistakable.
Structures clustered together, smoke rising faintly into the evening sky. The golden light of the setting sun bathed it in warmth, making it seem almost… inviting.
"…That's…" Anand breathed.
"We will stay there tonight," Satyaka said.
Relief hit him instantly.
Overwhelming.
Beautiful.
"…Thank god…"
But Satyaka wasn't finished.
"Tomorrow," he continued, "you will continue your journey alone."
Anand's expression shifted.
Right.
This was the point.
The place where their paths diverged.
For a moment, he just stared at the village.
Then he nodded slowly.
"…Yeah. I figured."
His voice was quieter now.
Less complaint.
More acceptance.
Satyaka turned and began walking again.
Anand followed.
This time—
With just a little more strength.
They reached the village as the sun dipped halfway below the horizon.
The sky burned with shades of orange and gold, fading slowly into dusk.
The village was alive.
People moved about, finishing their daily tasks. Smoke rose from cooking fires. Children's laughter echoed faintly in the distance.
Near the edge of the village stood a small ashram.
Simple.
Peaceful.
Familiar.
They were greeted almost immediately.
Sages and disciples welcomed them with calm warmth, recognizing Satyaka and extending that same courtesy to Anand.
No questions.
No suspicion.
Just acceptance.
"…You travelers must be tired," one of them said gently.
Anand almost laughed.
Tired?
"That's… one way to put it," he replied.
He was guided toward the river.
The water was cool.
Refreshing.
As it touched his skin, it felt like his exhaustion melted away—if only for a moment.
He washed himself slowly, letting the fatigue seep out of his body.
"…I needed this…" he whispered.
Afterward, he ate.
A simple meal.
But to him—
It felt like a feast.
He didn't speak much.
Didn't think much.
His body had reached its limit.
By the time he reached his sleeping mat—
He barely had the strength to sit.
He lowered himself down.
The surface felt softer than anything he had experienced in days.
"…Heaven…" he murmured.
His eyes closed almost instantly.
No overthinking.
No regret.
No anticipation.
Just—
Sleep.
Deep.
Immediate.
Unquestioning.
The road still lay ahead.
Ayodhya still waited.
The journey was far from over.
But tonight—
Anand slept.