The dim glow of medic-lamps flickers against the stone walls. The scent of herbs and tonics lingers in the air, mixing with the quiet hum of a sacred chant.

  A Roghar’s place is never silent.

  Within the confines of the Healer’s Chamber, amidst rows of glowing medic vials, Vishrav stands—his hands moving with precision as he stirs a thick, glowing mixture inside a ceramic bowl. His fingers glow faintly as he channels his energy, molding the medic without the need for tools. The liquid shifts colors, settling into a deep amber hue.

  A sigh escapes his lips.

  Vishrav: "Healing is harder than dealing with your mother."

  Jeeva, standing at the entrance, freezes. His brows knit together.

  Jeeva: "How can you joke about mother… when she’s not with us anymore?"

  For a moment, Vishrav stills. Then, with a heavy breath, he sets the bowl aside.

  Vishrav: "Hush. I didn’t mean it that way."

  He wipes his hands clean and turns to face his son.

  Vishrav: "Tell me, why are you here?"

  Jeeva’s fists tighten.

  Jeeva: "I want to be with Siya."

  A silence lingers between them. Vishrav waits, knowing there’s more.

  Jeeva: "I want to be in the Rath army. I want to work under Sen Nemi. I just want—"

  Vishrav: (cutting in) "Enough."

  His tone is sharper now.

  Vishrav: "Don’t be a child. Tomorrow, you are to be bonded with a Ras. Your destiny has already been decided."

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Jeeva clenches his jaw.

  Jeeva: "‘Some Ras’? You don’t even know who she is?"

  Vishrav exhales, rubbing his temples.

  Vishrav: "Jeeva… our world runs on destiny. It is the Pand who decide who you are. Only the Raj know who the Ras assigned to you is."

  Jeeva shakes his head.

  Jeeva: "And you don’t find this unfair?"

  Vishrav’s expression darkens.

  Vishrav: "Even the Raj follow the will of the Pand. Destiny is the same for all."

  Jeeva’s voice rises.

  Jeeva: "I am not like you! I don’t believe in it! I will decide my own fate!"

  A sharp silence fills the chamber. The flickering lamps cast long shadows.

  Vishrav’s voice drops lower, calmer—yet firmer.

  Vishrav: "Don’t even think of it."

  His hands tighten over the edge of the table.

  Vishrav: "Just stop this reasoning and prepare yourself for tomorrow."

  Jeeva’s teeth grit together, his breath shaking with frustration.

  Jeeva: "You’re weak. That’s why you didn’t fight for mother."

  Vishrav stills.

  Jeeva: "It was you whose badge changed from Ras to Roghar… not hers."

  Vishrav’s hands tremble.

  Jeeva: "She didn’t want to leave you. You let her go. You let a mere badge decide your fate."

  The silence is suffocating now.

  Vishrav looks away. His voice, when it comes, is almost a whisper.

  Vishrav: "I loved her."

  His fingers curl over the table’s edge.

  Vishrav: "But I could not betray the Lord. My destiny became to heal, while hers… became to create a new life with someone else."

  His gaze lifts, meeting Jeeva’s fiery stare.

  Vishrav: "And now, my son… it is up to you."

  Jeeva’s breath hitches.

  Vishrav: "Will you betray the Ras waiting for you?"

  Jeeva doesn’t respond. His fingers tremble at his sides.

  Vishrav steps closer. His voice lowers.

  Vishrav: "Do you know… in the Ras clan, there once existed a position called Kris?"

  Jeeva’s breath stills.

  Vishrav: "Kris… harnessed the power of the soul."

  A flicker of something unreadable crosses Jeeva’s face.

  Jeeva: "Why didn’t you tell me this before?"

  Vishrav exhales, a small, tired smile forming.

  Vishrav: "I was waiting for the right time. And that time… is now."

  He places a firm hand on Jeeva’s shoulder.

  Vishrav: "What I could not do… I believe you can."

  The medic-lamps flicker. The air feels heavier, charged with something unspoken.

  Vishrav: "Be a Kris, Jeeva."

  Jeeva stares at him. A hundred emotions whirl behind his eyes.

  Then—without another word—he turns and leaves.

  Vishrav watches as his son’s figure disappears into the dark corridor.

  Alone now, he turns back to his work. His hands move with precision once more, yet there is a faint tremor in his touch.

  A whisper escapes him.

  Vishrav: "I wish… I could tell you the truth about your mother."

  The medic vial in his hand shudders. A single drop of amber liquid spills, vanishing into the stone floor.