"Before there was shadow, there was longing. And before longing—there was theft."
---
The Heartwood was no ordinary cavern. It was alive, pulsing with memory. Its walls glistened with sap that whispered forgotten names. Roots stretched across the ceiling like ribcages, and deeper still, a scent of burnt sun lingered.
Asma-Ra descended alone, each step marked by the soft chime of the Dancer's anklets on his wrists.
He did not know how long he walked.
Time here was broken—unwritten, like a tale the gods never finished.
At the end of the descent stood a massive stone gate carved with three eyes: one closed, one open, and one hollow.
He pressed his bloodied palm to the open eye.
It blinked.
The gate screamed open.
---
Inside, he found no light.
Only warmth. Sick, wet warmth.
And then, a voice.
> "Little Ash. Little flame. Why have you come to me, bearer of broken rhythms?"
The voice came from a throne of teeth and vines, and upon it sat a creature not formed by nature or time. Its body was woven of tendons and candlewax, its face a pale mask with no mouth—only a gaping eye where its heart should be.
This was Adi-Rohu, the Eater of Dawn.
He had stolen the first ray of light when the world was born. That light had no name, no color. It was pure will—the source of divine warmth, hope, growth.
Rohu swallowed it to feel full, but his hunger only deepened. The light wept inside him, unable to die.
---
Asma-Ra stepped forward, gripping the anklets, now warm and pulsing.
> "I need the truth. I need what you've hidden."
Rohu rose.
> "You want truth? Then eat me.
Take in my burden. Hold my hunger.
Only then can you understand what lies beneath the curse."
Without warning, Rohu lunged—not to strike, but to embrace.
---
The battle was not of blades, but of spirit.
Rohu's essence spilled into Asma-Ra, showing him fragments:
The gods shaping the first Tree from golden breath.
The Asuras learning to kneel before it—and plotting vengeance.
A monk-child swearing to guard the root, only to be consumed by it.
And in the deepest layer, a single heartbeat, still pulsing with divine origin—not yet corrupted.
Asma-Ra screamed.
He saw himself, not as a man—but as something more ancient.
A Witness.
One who stood by as the First Light was devoured.
One who did not stop it.
---
He collapsed, gasping.
Rohu was gone.
Only his mask remained, warm and soft as skin.
Asma-Ra put it on.
The world shifted.
Suddenly, he could see light within darkness, truth within lies, souls trapped in stone, whispering:
> "Free us…"
And far beneath, a heartbeat called his name.
---
END OF CHAPTER XIII
Next: Chapter XIV – "The Bone Oracle of Maṇḍala-Raag"