The climb up the mountain had felt endless. Sharp wind nipped their cheeks, carrying the scent of pine and cold stone. Clouds drifted like pale ships below them, hiding the valley in a silver sea.
"Higher and higher," Ansh grumbled, dragging his boots along the steep path. "What's next, the moon?"
Daav fluttered above his head, leaving a faint trail of sparks in the thin air.
"Stop complaining," Ashwini said, though she puffed with each breath. "The view is worth it."
Vijay only wiped sweat from his brow and kept climbing.
Ahead, Rajyugas moved as if the mountain itself parted for him. His long strides never slowed, never faltered.
When at last they reached the summit, a gasp escaped all three children.
Nestled atop the sheer cliff stood a village like none they had seen. Low stone houses circled a broad central square, walls built of massive dark blocks that gleamed with a strange sheen. High watchtowers crowned each corner, their wooden roofs sharp against the pale sky. From the edge of the mountain, a great wall of interlocking stone descended straight into the clouds, as if the village sat inside the keep of some ancient fortress.
"It's like a castle," Vijay whispered.
"More like a giant turtle shell," Ansh said, eyes wide.
Daav chirped softly, wings folding as he settled on Ansh's shoulder.
Rajyugas turned, cloak snapping in the high wind. "Listen well," he said, voice low but carrying. "While we stay here, this village must not be harmed."
His eyes lingered on each of them in turn, dark and steady. "Not by outsiders. Not by you. Not by anything."
Ashwini frowned slightly at the odd weight of his words, but nodded. Vijay gave a quick salute.
Ansh shifted under that gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah. We'll be good."
Rajyugas said nothing more. He started toward the heavy gates.
The gate creaked open without a single guard's call. Inside, the village was silent.
Stone streets wound like careful lines between thick-walled houses. Every door was shut, every window barred. Only the wind moved, carrying the faint smell of cedar smoke.
"This place feels…" Ashwini whispered, "…different."
"Creepy," Ansh supplied.
"Empty," Vijay added.
No dogs barked. No children played. Even the air felt dense, as if the mountain itself was listening.
They passed into a broad square at the center, where a lone temple rose—simple stone pillars supporting a roof of dark wood polished by time. Carvings of waves and storm clouds wrapped the outer walls, their edges worn smooth.
Rajyugas stopped at the steps. "You will stay here," he said. "Do not forget what I told you. The village must not be harmed."
Again that word—harmed—hung heavier than the cold air.
Before any of them could ask, he turned and strode toward the far end of the square, cloak vanishing around a corner of stone.
The three stood for a long moment in the empty square.
"Well," Ansh finally said, "that was mysterious."
Daav chirped, a tiny crackle of flame in the quiet.
Ashwini ran a hand along one of the temple's stone pillars. The carvings felt warm despite the mountain chill. "It's built like a fortress," she murmured. "Even the roofs are sloped to break waves. But we're on a mountain—there's no sea here."
"Maybe it's a fortress against the sky," Vijay said softly, eyes tracing the dark towers.
Ansh shivered, though the wind had died. "I don't like it. It feels like the whole place is… waiting."
Ashwini gave him a quick, firm look. "Rajyugas told us to behave. So no breaking anything, no pranks."
Ansh put on an innocent face. "Me? I'm a model student."
Daav gave a sarcastic chirp that made Vijay snort.
They explored the temple first.
Inside, the single chamber was surprisingly warm. A large brazier burned with blue fire at the center, casting gentle light across polished stone floors. Carved benches lined the walls, and at the far end a raised dais held a simple wooden idol of a calm-faced guardian whose hands spread as though to shelter the whole mountain.
Ansh walked around the brazier, sword tapping lightly against his hip. "At least it's not spooky inside."
Ashwini knelt by the idol, studying the fine grain of the wood. "Look—there are no offerings. No candles. Like no one's prayed here for years."
Vijay peered out a narrow window slit at the silent square. "Maybe the villagers don't need to."
"Or maybe," Ansh said, voice lowering in mock drama, "they can't."
Ashwini rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to scare us."
But even as she said it, the silence pressed close again, heavy as the mountain stone.
When night came, the children settled on thick mats near the blue fire. Rajyugas had not returned.
Outside, the wind howled around the fortress walls, carrying faint echoes that might have been distant voices—or only the mountain speaking to itself.
Ansh lay on his back, Daav curled like a warm coal beside him. "This village is weird," he muttered.
Ashwini turned toward him. "Remember what Rajyugas said. We stay here. We don't cause harm. We protect it if we must."
"Protect it from what?" Vijay asked quietly.
No one answered.
They listened to the wind until sleep finally claimed them, the fortress-village standing silent around them, its ancient walls guarding secrets the children could only begin to imagine.