The sky was painted with gold when Ashvath and Sita returned. But the beauty of the horizon could not hide the growing storm beneath it.
Ashoka waited on the ramparts, arms crossed, eyes hard. Behind him, the royal guards stood—not in ceremony, but in suspicion.
Ashvath dismounted silently. Sita followed, carrying the scorched scroll wrapped in cloth.
---
The Reunion
Ashoka's voice cut the air.
"You were gone for five days."
Ashvath offered no excuse. "The temple was real. The cult is real."
Sita handed him the scroll. "We found this. A prophecy. Or perhaps a warning."
Ashoka unwrapped it slowly, his fingers trembling just slightly. He read the words aloud:
> "When the Lion bleeds, the Shadow will wear the crown."
A silence fell.
Ashoka looked up—at Ashvath. And something inside him shifted.
"You knew nothing of this?"
"I swear it."
Ashoka stepped forward, face inches from his. "But they chose you, not me."
"I didn't ask to be chosen," Ashvath growled. "I followed your command. I bled for your war. I nearly died in that tomb."
Ashoka's fists clenched. "You speak like the crown weighs on your head."
Sita moved between them. "Stop. This is what they want—division, doubt. Look at yourselves. Brothers turned to rivals."
Ashoka turned away, jaw tight. "I will investigate this further. Myself."
---
Nightfall Whispers
Later that night, Ashvath sat at the edge of the camp, sharpening his blade beneath the moon.
Sita approached quietly. "He's afraid."
Ashvath didn't look up. "He should be. This war is no longer just steel and soil. It's hearts and trust."
Sita knelt beside him. "And what about your heart?"
He paused.
"You saw things in the smoke," she whispered. "You called my name."
Ashvath finally met her eyes. "I thought I lost you. And that fear... felt worse than any wound."
She leaned in, resting her forehead on his.
"You won't lose me."
---
Mokshara's Shadow
Far away, in the black hills of Kalinga, Mokshara stood before a burning map. The scroll had reached them—even now, her agents whispered through the cracks of Magadha.
She smiled at the flames.
"Let Ashoka fear his shadow. Soon... he will drown in it."
Behind her, a boy emerged from the dark—a boy with no tongue, but eyes full of rage.
He carried a blade too heavy for his age.
And yet, he carried it like Ashvath.
---
End of Chapter 9