The sky above the Gurukul was a pristine, endless blue, but on the training grounds, a storm was brewing.
His movements were a blur of controlled fury. Anal, the Crown Prince of Tejgarh, moved through his sword forms with a precision that was almost brutal. Each strike, each parry, was executed with a focus so absolute it seemed to suck the sound from the air around him. His crimson practice robes, the colour of his clan, swirled like living flame. His amber eyes, narrowed in concentration, saw nothing but the imaginary enemy before him. This was his sanctuary—the dance of steel, the whisper of the wind against the blade, the heat of his own inner fire. Here, there were no expectations, no weight of a crown, only the pure, uncomplicated language of combat.
The sound of laughter felt like a physical intrusion.
"Come back here, you little rascal! I'm not done with you!"
The voice was bright and unrestrained, a stark contrast to the grim silence of Anal's practice. A blur of white fur shot past his feet, followed closely by a boy in robes of deep cerulean blue. Neel, the Prince of Neelgarh, was chasing a panicked rabbit, his face alight with playful determination.
Anal tried to ignore him, to sink back into his rhythm. But the laughter was a discordant note he couldn't tune out. His next strike was a fraction too harsh, the blade whistling angrily through the air.
It happened in an instant. The rabbit, desperate, darted between Anal's legs. Neel, his eyes fixed on his quarry, didn't see the shifting form in front of him. His foot slipped on a patch of dew-slicked grass, and he collided with Anal with a solid, ungraceful thud.
The world spun. Both princes tumbled to the soft earth in a tangle of limbs and expensive fabric.
Silence.
For a long, suspended moment, there was nothing. No sound of the Gurukul, no distant chants, no rustling leaves. It was as if the universe itself had paused to watch.
Then, time snapped back into place. Anal pushed himself up on his elbows, his face a mask of cold fury. And then, his eyes met Neel's.
Neel was staring back, his playful grin wiped away, replaced by a look of dazed astonishment. His eyes, a startling shade of ocean blue, were wide.
In that single, locked gaze, something shifted.
It wasn't a memory. It was a ghost of one. A hazy, indistinct image flashed behind Anal's eyes—a feeling of profound loss, the glint of a sword under a stormy sky, a face blurred by rain and tears. It was there and gone in a heartbeat, leaving behind a strange, hollow ache in his chest. From the look on Neel's face, now pale and bewildered, he had felt it too.
The spell was broken by the hurried footsteps of Neel's friends.
"Neel! Are you okay?" one of them asked, reaching down to help him up.
The moment shattered. Anal scrambled to his feet, brushing the dirt from his robes as if it were a personal insult. The confusion he felt curdled instantly into anger. This boy, this disruption, had not only ruined his practice but had somehow trespassed into the sanctity of his own mind.
He pushed Neel away, the gesture sharp and final. "I am Anal," he said, his voice low and icy. "Who are you? You are not from our training group. We were practicing here. You have disrupted our session. Now leave this place. Immediately."
Neel got to his feet, his usual bravado slowly returning, though his eyes still held a trace of that strange bewilderment. He scooped the trembling rabbit into his arms, stroking its fur to calm it.
"Oh, dear Prince, are you hurt?" Neel's tone was light, teasing, but it lacked its earlier effortless charm. "We had no idea the great Fire Prince was holding his royal practice here. We thought some arrogant peacock was showing off its feathers." He nuzzled the rabbit. "Our little friend here ran towards you, and we had a... collision. By the way, what's your name, O fierce one? Would you kindly tell us?"
Anal's jaw tightened. He could feel the heat rising under his skin, a familiar, dangerous warmth. "My name is Anal," he bit out, each word clipped. "And you have disrupted our practice. Now leave. Quickly. Before there are consequences."
Neel's smile finally returned, full force. It was a brilliant, infuriating sight. "Wait! Before I go, cool that temper, Prince Anal. You burn as hot as your name. Just like fire, all rage and no restraint." He held the rabbit up slightly. "Pay a little attention to our friend here. Come, my dear, let's go. Come with me, or someone's anger will really burn you to a cinder."
Laughing, a sound that now grated on Anal's every nerve, Neel turned and walked away with his friends. But after a few paces, he stopped. He turned back, his gaze cutting through the distance, and found Anal's once more. This time, his smile was different—not mocking, but curious, questioning, as if he too was trying to solve a riddle he didn't understand.
Then he was gone, disappearing into the grove of trees, the sound of his laughter lingering in the air like a challenge.
Anal stood frozen, his sword hanging limply in his hand. The anger was still there, a hot coal in his gut, but it was now overshadowed by that inexplicable, haunting feeling. The ghost of a sorrow that wasn't his, the echo of a connection that made no sense. His eyes, usually so sure and focused, were clouded with a deep, unspoken confusion. He was just a boy, and he couldn't understand the strange, gravitational pull he felt towards the infuriating Prince of Water.
Shaking his head as if to clear it, he turned his back on the empty path and raised his sword again. He focused on the cold steel, on the familiar weight in his hand, on the next strike, and the next. He poured all his confusion into the movement, trying to burn it away with the heat of his effort.
From the secluded doorway of his hut, partially hidden by creeping jasmine, an old man with eyes that held the wisdom of ages watched the entire scene unfold. Guru Vrish, the foremost teacher of the Gurukul, allowed a slow, knowing smile to touch his lips. He had seen the flash of recognition, the tremor in the fabric of their destiny.
"The threads cross once more," he murmured to the silent air. "Fire and Water. Let us see if this time, they can learn to create steam instead of destruction."
His smile faded, replaced by a look of deep concern as he looked towards the northern mountains, where dark clouds were beginning to gather.
For the storm that was coming for the two princes would make their petty rivalry look like a summer breeze.
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