The morning sun pierced the mist like a silent spear, casting long shadows across the war camp. Everything was as it had been—banners flapping, soldiers sharpening steel—but something beneath the surface had changed.
Trust.
It had cracked.
---
The Prince's Gaze
Ashoka sat in his war tent, surrounded by generals and scrolls. But his mind wasn't on strategy.
It was on Ashvath.
"He was targeted... but why?" Ashoka murmured. "He's just a sword."
"Is he?" said his oldest general, Paramesh, voice gravelled and quiet. "You were once the lion, Prince. But now... the men look at him."
Ashoka's hand clenched on the table. "He is my friend."
Paramesh bowed. "Even kings have friends. But kingdoms... have none."
---
Ashvath's Silence
Ashvath sat by the riverbank, polishing his blade. Sita approached, barefoot, carrying two cups of honeyed water.
"You haven't spoken since the assassin," she said.
He didn't look up. "There'll be more."
"But not just for Ashoka. For you."
He nodded.
"I never asked for a throne. I only wanted purpose."
She sat beside him, gently. "Purpose is dangerous. More dangerous than power. Power you can take. Purpose… it makes others follow."
He looked at her then, a flicker of pain in his eyes.
"If Ashoka turns on me—what am I?"
She touched his hand. "You're still Shadow. And to me... you're the only light in this war."
---
The Royal Council
That evening, Ashoka called a closed council. No advisors. Only Ashvath and Sita.
The air was thick.
"I've heard whispers," Ashoka began. "That Kalinga seeks to divide us. That they see in you, Ashvath, not just a blade... but a kingkiller."
Ashvath tensed. "Do you believe them?"
Ashoka stared hard. "I believe war changes people."
Sita stepped forward. "You doubt the man who saved your life?"
Ashoka's voice was sharp. "I doubt everything, Sita. That's what war does."
Silence fell.
Then Ashoka softened, only slightly.
"I want to trust you. Both of you. But you must prove yourselves once more. Ride north. There's a temple the scouts found—Kalinga symbols, sacrifices, blood rituals. If this cult is real... burn it."
Ashvath bowed. "Then we ride at dawn."
Ashoka nodded... and watched them leave.
Only after they were gone did he whisper, "I need to know... if I can live without him."
---
In the Temple of Kalinga
Mokshara smiled into the dark flames.
"They suspect one another now. Good."
She held up a bowl of red glass—inside, a strand of Ashvath's hair.
"Now let us touch his dreams."
---
End of Chapter 7