The forest was a green tunnel of dappled light and deep quiet, broken only by the steady beat of hooves on soft earth. Agni rode slightly ahead, a silhouette of focused silence. Beside him, Neer swayed easily with his horse's gait, one hand resting on his thigh, the other holding the reins loosely, as if they were returning from a picnic, not a trial of souls.
After a stretch of comfortable quiet, Neer nudged his horse closer. A familiar, teasing glint lit his eyes.
"Agni… you were scared, weren't you? Back in the temple, when I crumpled like a sack of rice?"
Agni's gaze remained fixed on the path ahead. "No."
Neer's grin widened. "Really? Then tell me something else. That Brahmarakshas… you threw fire to save me. Don't tell me you've gone soft. Started caring, have you?"
This time, Agni turned his head. His eyes, the color of banked coals, held Neer's for a moment. "I did not save you out of care," he said, each word precise. "You were my companion on a mission. Your safety was my responsibility. That is all. Otherwise, I—"
He cut himself off, his jaw tightening minutely.
Neer leaned forward in the saddle. "Otherwise what, Agni? You'd have let it eat me?"
Agni didn't answer. The reins creaked softly in his clenched fist. The silence that followed was more telling than any denial.
Neer let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine, keep your secrets. But answer me this—why is it that every time I give an answer, you give the opposite one? Are all my answers just… wrong?"
Agni's voice was lower now, a rumble beneath the forest sounds. "No. Your answers come from your heart. They are true… for you."
Neer blinked, the teasing fading into genuine curiosity. "And yours don't? Do you even have a heart, Agni?"
"No."
The bluntness of it should have been cold. But Neer just shook his head, a soft, dramatic sigh escaping him. "Then you'll never fall in love. What a lonely fate."
Agni glanced at him again. And there it was—a flicker. A tiny, almost imperceptible softening at the corner of his mouth, there and gone in a heartbeat. A ghost of a smile.
Neer caught it. His own grin returned, brighter. "See? You can smile. And… I do care, you know. We're friends. Aren't we?"
Agni said nothing. He just turned his face back to the path, but the rigid line of his shoulders had relaxed a fraction.
Suddenly, Neer's horse came to an abrupt, stubborn halt, snorting and stamping a hoof.
"Hey! What's your problem?" Neer patted its neck, puzzled.
Agni pulled his own mount up beside him. "What is it?"
"No idea. Maybe he's hungry. Or just tired of my excellent company."
Agni nodded once, a simple acceptance. "Alright."
Neer stretched, his joints popping. "Actually… I'm hungry. Let's stop for a bit."
Without another word, Agni dismounted. He secured both horses to a low-hanging branch where tender grass grew, then stood waiting. Neer had already found a cradle of soft moss beneath a sprawling oak and was flat on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes.
Within minutes, the deep, even rhythm of his breathing filled the small clearing.
---
When Neer stirred, the light had shifted. He heard the soft crunch of a footstep nearby. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he saw Agni sitting cross-legged beside him, a small cloth bundle in his lap, filled with wild berries and a few small, unfamiliar fruits.
Neer pushed himself up on his elbows. "You… went foraging?"
Agni nodded, holding the bundle out. "You said you were hungry."
A warmth spread through Neer's chest, unrelated to the sun. "You could have woken me. We could have gone together."
"You were tired," Agni said simply, as if it were the most obvious logic in the world. "Sleep was more important."
Neer took the offered food. He bit into a berry; it burst tart and sweet on his tongue. "They're good," he said around a mouthful. He held the bundle out between them. "Eat with me."
Agni hesitated, then selected a single, dark berry. He ate it slowly.
Neer's hand came up, resting on Agni's shoulder, the touch firm and real. "Thank you," he said, and this time there was no teasing in his voice, only a quiet, solid gratitude.
Agni didn't meet his eyes. He looked at the trees. "We should go. We've lingered."
Neer hopped to his feet, energy restored. "Right! Onward!"
As they rode, the Gurukul drawing nearer with every mile, Neer couldn't resist. "Agni," he called over the rhythm of the hooves, a smile in his voice. "You got those fruits just for me, didn't you?"
"No."
Neer's laughter rang out, clear and unburdened, chasing birds from the branches. "Lie all you want. My stomach is full, and so is my horse's!"
Agni didn't reply. But ahead of him, Neer saw the subtle, straight line of his back, and knew the truth sat between them, quieter and more real than any admission.
---
The familiar, high walls of the Gurukul rose in the distance, a sight that now felt like a sigh of relief. In the central courtyard, Gurudev Vishrayan stood with several senior Acharyas, as if they had been waiting, sensing their approach.
Agni and Neer dismounted in unison and bowed deeply. "Pranam, Gurudev. Pranam, Acharyas."
Gurudev raised his hand in blessing. "Kalyan ho, my sons. You have walked a difficult path and returned bearing a divine trust." His wise eyes fell upon the golden bow in Agni's hand, its string a line of captured sunlight. The Acharyas murmured in awe.
"This bow," Gurudev said, his voice both gentle and immensely powerful, "needs no quiver. When you draw the string of Agniprastha, arrows of pure flame will manifest from your will alone. It is not a weapon of wood and metal. It is a covenant with fire itself."
They bowed again, the weight of the responsibility settling onto Agni's shoulders, felt by Neer beside him.
"Now, go. Purify yourselves, perform the rites of consecration for the bow, and rest. Tomorrow welcomes you back to duty."
"Yes, Gurudev."
---
Later, after cold baths and silent prayers, the bow—Agniprastha—was placed before Gurudev. The naming ceremony was brief, potent. The words seemed to sink into the very metal, and the flame on the string burned a shade brighter, acknowledging its true name: The Path of Fire.
As Agni turned to seek his chamber, Neer lingered in the courtyard. He frowned, his senses prickling. Something was… off. The stones were cleaner, the repaired wood on a nearby archway too new.
"Aakash!" he called out, spotting his friend.
Aakash walked over, his usual calm demeanor touched with a new gravity. "You noticed quickly."
"Tell me," Neer said, his voice losing its lightness.
Aakash's gaze swept the courtyard. "While you were gone… the Gurukul was attacked. Not by beasts, but by shadows with form—Rakshasas woven from dark mantras. They broke through the outer shields. There was damage. Many were hurt."
Neer's blood ran cold. "But… Gurudev…"
"Was away on urgent spiritual business. They attacked in that window of vulnerability."
Neer absorbed this, the peace of their return suddenly fragile. "So that's why it feels… rebuilt."
Aakash nodded. "It is secure now. But the air still remembers."
"Good," Neer murmured, the word feeling inadequate. "Let's rest. Tomorrow needs clear heads."
---
Dawn came, painting the Gurukul in pale gold. The usual morning quiet was different—charged, purposeful. All the Acharyas were assembled. Agni and Neer approached and bowed.
"Pranam, Gurudev."
"Kalyan ho."
Dharaaya, Vaayansh, and Aakash joined them, completing the circle of five. A silent understanding passed between them—the ease between Dharaaya and Vaayansh, the steady reliability of Aakash, the unbreakable tether between Agni and Neer.
Neer stepped forward. "You summoned us, Gurudev?"
Gurudev Vishrayan's face, usually a lake of serenity, was the surface of a deep, still ocean before a storm. "Yes, Neer. The time for reactive defense is over. The shadows that tested our walls now gather as an army in the western woods. They must be eradicated, not for revenge, but to protect the light that dwells here." His eyes found Agni. "Agniprastha is the key. Its fire can burn away the corruption they spread."
Agni's voice was steel. "Your command is our path."
"Agni, Neer—you will lead the strike. Dharaaya, your earth will guard their flanks. Vaayansh, your winds will scatter their formations and guard the skies. Aakash, your perception will be their early warning, your energy a shield. You are not five individuals today. You are one hand with five fingers."
Together, as one, they bowed. "We obey, Gurudev."
They turned. Agni held Agniprastha, its fire glinting in the dawn. Neer adjusted his grip on his sword, a familiar, ready weight. Dharaaya's feet seemed to root more firmly to the earth. Vaayansh took a breath, and the air around him stirred in response. Aakash's eyes glazed slightly, seeing beyond the physical.
Side by side, they walked past the gates, leaving the sanctuary behind. The forest ahead was no longer just trees and path. It was a threshold.
The quiet of the Gurukul at their backs was not peace. It was a held breath.
The battle for its future had begun.
Just as the five stepped beyond the safety of the Gurukul gates, the forest exhaled a wind that did not belong to morning.
Aakash stiffened.
Dharaaya's hand froze mid-air.
Vaayansh's breath faltered.
Agni felt Agniprastha grow warm in his grip too warm.
And Neer… heard it first.
A low, guttural hum rising from deep within the western woods not a sound of nature, but of something being awakened.
The birds fell silent.
The wind stopped.
The shadows ahead… moved.
Not with the shuffle of creatures hiding
but with the precision
of something waiting.
Not for the Gurukul.
Not for the world.
For them.
And far behind, in the courtyard they had just left, the flame on Agniprastha's altar flickered once, violently
as if warning them that this battle was not the beginning.
It was the consequence.