The sun hung higher now, casting sharp shadows along the dirt paths of the village. The scent of warm grain and drying clothes lingered in the air, a quiet midday lull settling over the houses.

Aaryan finished his lunch in silence, wiped his hands clean on a cloth, and stood.

"I'll return tomorrow," he said casually.

Binay, sitting nearby on the stone bench, gave a slow nod. He didn't press for a reason. "Safe travels," he said, offering a small smile that didn't ask questions.

Aaryan returned it, faint and noncommittal.

Vedik chirped once and trotted toward Chottu, who had been waiting quietly under the shade of the neem tree. The boy grinned wide as the little serpent-snake let him pat his head one last time. Vedik even coiled himself briefly around the boy's wrist before slipping away with a soft flick of his tail.

Chottu waved with both hands. "Bye-bye!"

Without ceremony, Aaryan turned and walked out, Vedik slinking beside his feet. They passed the village well, where a few women had gathered to draw water. Their voices carried.

"…he was here last evening, wasn't he?"

"Gone this morning. Not a single word."

"Weird fellow. Didn't even say goodbye."

Aaryan smirked to himself. If they were looking for that man, they'd be searching until their skin turned to dust. Ashes didn't leave footprints. Even ghosts would give up.

Once the village fell behind, he took the worn path toward the clearing he'd claimed for training. The space welcomed him back like an old habit—quiet, sun-dappled, and scarred by practice.

He quickly staked some poles, raised his hand, and gathered qi.

A thin, finger-sized wooden spear shot from his fingertips. It struck the target pole dead on. The pole cracked—then exploded, splinters flying. But this time, they didn't go far. Some only struck the stones nearby.

Aaryan let himself nod. Better control. Not perfect, but better.

He repeated the motion. Again. Then again. The process became a rhythm. Some poles were thinner, others thicker. Some shattered on impact, others didn't react at all, the spear falling short or curving off course. But each failure taught him something. Each success carried a new layer of control.

Soon, the clearing was strewn with shattered wood. The scent of splinters and sap lingered thick on the breeze. His hand tingled from the repeated draw of qi, his breath slower now.

The sun had shifted behind the trees. Afternoon melted into dusk.

Aaryan exhaled and lowered himself to the ground at the base of a tree. Vedik was already curled into a lazy coil nearby, snoring softly with a faint wheeze.

Aaryan reached out and patted the dragonling's head.

"Lazy," he muttered with a half-smile.

Vedik twitched but didn't wake.

The leaves above rustled, shifting from green to bronze, then to gold as the light faded. Aaryan didn't move. He just waited. The jungle would darken. Night would come. And with it—maybe—answers.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The last of the sunlight bled from the sky. Shadows spilled from the trees and swallowed the jungle whole.

Aaryan finally rose.

He returned to the narrow gap between two tall trees, half-hidden behind a tangle of vines. The broken branch that had marked it before was still there, brittle now with age. He brushed it aside and stepped through the curtain of green.

The path ahead remained the same—a winding climb more guessed than carved, scattered with rocks, roots, and sudden drops. It sloped upward like the mountain had started to grow steps and then changed its mind halfway through.

He moved fast at first, feet finding stable footholds with practiced ease. Broken slabs jutted from the mountainside, and he used them like stepping stones. Vedik zipped alongside him, full of mischief, barely touching the ground.

At one point, the dragonling vanished into the canopy above, rustling through the vines like a squirrel.

Aaryan glanced up—too late.

A cluster of dead leaves dropped straight onto his head.

He didn't even break stride.

"Try that again," he said flatly, "and I'm scrubbing my feet with your scales."

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Vedik reappeared on a ledge to his right, curling his tail with great offense, as if deeply wounded by the accusation.

The climb steepened. The ledges thinned—some barely wide enough for a single boot. One wrong move, and the jungle would claim him whole. Aaryan slowed his pace, fingers pressing into stone for balance. The cold bit into his palms, his muscles pulled tight with each upward shift.

Breath steady. Focus absolute.

He moved like that for some time, until at last, he hauled himself over the final outcrop. Gravel crunched underfoot.

Ahead lay a flat rise—narrow, but walkable. He straightened, adjusting his weight slowly.

Below him, the shrine came into view.

Not ahead. Not beside. Below.

It rested on a lower ridge, shaped from black stone and capped with worn, dark tiles, folded into the mountain's side like it had been left there centuries ago and simply forgotten. No flags, no wards. No light.

The main path led away to the east, curling from the base—but from here, that route was invisible. This angle gave no welcome.

Aaryan stood still on the high ridge, a spine of stone curling behind the shrine like the blade of a knife.

One leap, and he could land on the roof.

The wind shifted, curling along his sleeves and fingers, lifting the edges of his clothes. It carried the faint smell of damp wood and something older—something still.

"Not exactly how they expect visitors," he muttered, eyes narrowing.

Vedik crouched beside him now, alert and still.

Aaryan said nothing more.

The shrine waited.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The shadows wrapped the shrine in silence. Aaryan crouched low along the ridge, his breath slow, steady, as his eyes scanned the clearing below.

Same as before. The guards stood between the trail and the shrine, far from the structure itself. None were posted nearby. They stayed clustered together, laughing over something, weapons loose in their hands. No one moved to patrol. No one looked his way, they'd long since stopped expecting anything strange.

Aaryan watched longer than needed. Long enough to be sure.

He exhaled quietly, drawing a thin strand of qi around his face. The Heavenly Silken Mask shimmered into place—not that it was required, but old habits lingered.

Then he rose. Qi wrapped around his legs like a second skin, muscles tightening. One quiet breath, then he leapt.

His bare feet landed soundlessly on the roof. The tiles barely shifted.

He didn't linger.

In one smooth motion, he slid down the opposite edge and dropped into the overgrowth beside the shrine's left wall. The bush parted soundlessly, the leaves still as breath.

He crept along the wall's edge, careful not to rustle the leaves, until he could see the gate.

It was tall, dark, and silent. Black wood—or was it metal? He couldn't tell. A heavy lock hung at the centre, dull and unmoving.

Aaryan frowned.

Breaking it was easy. But once the villagers saw it cracked open, they'd know exactly what had happened. And they'd know someone was here.

He stared at the lock, then shook his head. It didn't matter. He wouldn't be around when they found it.

He started forward but then Vedik raised a claw from ahead, signalling him to stop.

The dragonling had gone still since earlier, but now his silver eyes gleamed with intent. He turned, shimmering once—and vanished. No chirp, no sound. Just silence.

Aaryan narrowed his eyes.

He could just barely sense the shift of qi as Vedik's true form, cloaked in illusion, glided low across the ground. He drifted toward the guards, quiet as wind, then paused behind one of them—one who was too busy laughing to notice anything was amiss.

Then, with a flick of his tail and the lightest brush of a claw—

The key vanished from the man's belt.

Vedik darted back the way he came, entirely invisible, until he reappeared just ahead of Aaryan and dropped the key in the dirt like it was some priceless treasure.

He looked up like he'd just saved the world.

Aaryan raised a brow. "What, now you want to carry me inside?"

Vedik raised both front claws and gestured proudly.

"You're going to use illusion to hide me again?"

The dragonling nodded once, confident.

Aaryan's gaze lingered on him. "No. Last time you did that, you passed out for almost a whole week."

Vedik didn't argue. He just looked at Aaryan with those same silver eyes—mischief dimmed, softened by something quieter. A promise. That he could handle it now.

Aaryan didn't reply, not with words. He bent down, retrieved the key, and gave the smallest nod.

Vedik gave a pleased chirp.

Then the world bent.

The space around them shimmered, light twisting like ripples in a still pond. Their presence faded, colour leeching from view, until they vanished entirely.

Not even the leaves rustled as they moved. They were gone. To the eye, to the ear.

As if they'd never been there at all.

Hidden under Vedik's illusion, Aaryan moved quickly. His bare feet barely touched the ground as he crossed the distance to the gate. The heavy lock clicked open without resistance. He pushed the door just wide enough to slip through.

It didn't creak. Didn't groan. It simply opened—quiet and smooth, like it had been waiting.

Dawnshard stirred faintly inside the ring, the sensation brushing the edge of his mind like a sudden shift in thought. Then it stilled again, subdued. As if remembering the warning Aaryan had given it.

Inside, the air shifted.

It was cold—unnaturally so. Not the clean chill of stone or shade, but something deeper. A breath of stillness that didn't belong. The kind that slipped beneath skin and curled into the spine. Aaryan felt it settle in his bones.

He stepped in and turned at once, closing the door behind him with care. The latch clicked gently into place. The silence that followed felt absolute.

"Drop it," he whispered.

Vedik shimmered beside him, his outline flickering before fading. The illusion peeled away, and the air pressed down just a little harder in its absence. Aaryan could feel the weight of the shrine more clearly now. Old. Quiet. Chilly.

He took a moment before he looked around.

The shrine's inner walls mirrored the outside—black, seamless in some places, chipped and rough in others. Aaryan stepped forward, fingertips brushing the surface. Cold—not just the chill of stone or time, but something older.

What drew his attention, though, were the drawings.

Marks—white and raw—scrawled across the walls in jagged bands. Drawn by hand, not brush. Chalky lines pressed hard into the black. Not elegant, not refined. But purposeful.

He moved to the left wall first.

Stars. Dozens of them, scattered across a rough sky. But not all were the same. A few burned brighter than the rest—sharper, heavier.

He turned to the centre.

That same starry sky. But now one of the brighter ones had begun to fall. A streak cut across the space, flaring bright. Around it, the other stars had dimmed, their edges faded as if swallowed by its descent.

Then the final wall.

The fallen star had landed—crashed, maybe. Its shape was jagged, a blot of white that split the ground. Around it stood figures. Small. Thin. Human.

Aaryan stood still for a long moment.

"So it fell from the sky…" he murmured. "No wonder they thought it was a blessing from the gods." His eyes narrowed. "Not a treasure born of this world."

Vedik didn't speak. He just padded silently closer, silver eyes scanning the walls, curiosity flickering across his face. No mischief, no sound.

Aaryan didn't move either.

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