The forest thickened as Ganesh and Aneet followed the narrow path along the riverbank.
Roots twisted like serpents across the ground, and tall reeds whispered in the warm wind. The river flowed beside them, dark and restless, as if aware of the search unfolding along its edge.
Neither spoke for a while.
Not from awkwardness.
From focus.
At last, Aneet broke the silence.
"You didn't hesitate," she said. "When the Naga spoke of his son."
Ganesh glanced at her.
"There was no reason to," he replied. "Pain speaks clearly, no matter who carries it."
Aneet studied him as they walked.
"You speak like a sage," she said. "But you walk like a warrior."
Ganesh smiled faintly.
"I'm still learning which one I am."
She returned a small smile.
"Maybe you don't have to choose."
Ahead, the forest opened slightly.
Broken stone pillars jutted from the ground, half-swallowed by vines and moss. Ancient ruins — older than any village road, worn smooth by time and rain.
Aneet slowed.
"This is where I saw them turn," she said. "Men with nets. They dragged something heavy."
Ganesh nodded.
"I can feel it," he said softly. "Fear… and anger."
They stepped carefully into the ruins.
The place was eerily quiet.
Crumbling walls formed the outline of what might once have been a shrine or outpost. At its center lay a shallow pit, ringed with broken stone slabs. Faint markings of old mantras were etched into the rocks — now cracked and faded.
Ganesh crouched, touching one of the carvings.
"This place was meant to honor the river once," he said. "Not defile it."
Aneet drew her bow halfway, eyes scanning the shadows.
Then they heard it.
A faint, pained hiss.
From behind a fallen pillar.
Ganesh moved first.
He stepped around the stone and froze.
There, tangled in thick ropes and weighted nets, lay a young Naga.
Smaller than Takshaka, his scales a pale jade, dulled by dust and blood. His hood was bound tightly, his body bruised where men had struck him with poles and stones.
His glowing eyes widened when he saw Ganesh.
"Human…" he hissed weakly. "Have you come to finish what they began?"
Ganesh knelt slowly, keeping his hands visible.
"No," he said gently. "I came to take you home."
The young Naga blinked.
"Home?" he whispered. "Father…?"
Ganesh nodded.
"Takshaka waits for you."
Aneet quickly cut the ropes with her dagger, careful not to touch the scales too roughly.
As the bindings loosened, the young Naga shuddered in pain.
"Easy," Aneet murmured. "You're safe now."
Before they could help him fully free, rough voices rang out.
"Hey! Step away from that thing!"
Ganesh turned.
Four men emerged from behind the ruins, armed with spears and heavy clubs. Their clothes were rough, faces hard with fear and greed.
One of them sneered.
"Well, looks like someone else wants our prize."
Aneet raised her bow, arrow nocked.
Ganesh stepped forward instead.
"Leave," he said calmly. "And you won't be harmed."
One of the men laughed nervously.
"You know what that is?" he said. "Those scales sell for more than a year's grain. Kings will pay for charms made from them."
Ganesh's eyes hardened.
"You bind a living being for trinkets?" he asked.
Another man spat. "It's just a beast."
The young Naga hissed weakly.
Ganesh felt the fire stir.
He planted his staff into the ground.
"He is a child," Ganesh said quietly. "And he is not your prey."
The leader stepped forward, gripping his spear.
"And who are you to decide that?"
Ganesh met his gaze.
"I am the one standing here," he replied. "That will have to be enough."
The men hesitated.
They could feel it.
Not power.
Resolve.
Aneet's arrow gleamed in the fading light.
"You don't want to test how serious he is," she warned.
The leader growled and raised his spear.
"Take them!"
The clash was swift.
Ganesh moved like flowing water, deflecting the first spear strike with his staff and sweeping the man's legs from under him. Another rushed in from the side — Aneet loosed an arrow that struck the ground at his feet, making him stumble back in shock.
Ganesh struck again, knocking a club from one man's hands and sending him sprawling.
He did not aim to kill.
Only to end the fight.
Within moments, the men were disarmed, bruised, and terrified.
They backed away, dragging each other.
"This isn't over," one snarled.
Ganesh pointed down the path.
"Go," he said. "And never hunt what you cannot honor."
They fled into the trees.
Silence returned.
Ganesh and Aneet turned back to the young Naga.
He was trembling, struggling to coil himself.
Ganesh knelt beside him.
"It's over," he said. "We'll take you to your father."
The Naga's eyes filled with tears.
"My name is Ananta," he whispered. "I thought… I would never see the river again."
Aneet helped steady him.
"You will," she said. "We promise."
Ganesh closed his eyes briefly and called inward.
Not with words.
With presence.
Moments later, the river surged.
Water rose high as Takshaka emerged, eyes blazing with fear and hope.
When he saw Ananta, he roared and rushed forward, coiling protectively around his son.
"My child… my child…"
Ananta pressed against him weakly.
"I'm here, Father."
Takshaka lifted his gaze to Ganesh and Aneet.
The fury in his eyes softened into something deep and ancient.
"You kept your word," the Naga prince said.
Ganesh bowed slightly.
"Any parent would have done the same," he replied.
Takshaka shook his massive head.
"Few would stand against armed men for a Naga child," he said. "Fewer still without demanding reward."
He looked closely at Ganesh.
"You are not shaped like the others of your kind."
Ganesh smiled faintly.
"I try not to be shaped at all."
Takshaka let out a low, rumbling chuckle.
"Come," he said. "The river will carry you."
The waters rose gently, forming a smooth path as Ganesh and Aneet stepped onto the surface, guided by Takshaka's power. They crossed to the center of the river, where calm eddies swirled like living mirrors.
There, Takshaka bowed his great head.
"In Satya Yuga, we remember those who walk in truth," he said. "If ever you call upon the Nagas with a clean heart, my kin will listen."
Ganesh folded his hands.
"I ask for nothing," he said. "Only that you guard your waters, and let travelers pass in peace."
Takshaka nodded.
"So it shall be."
His gaze shifted to Aneet.
"And you, archer… your spirit burns bright."
Aneet inclined her head respectfully.
"I just follow what feels right," she said.
Takshaka smiled.
"That is rarer than any treasure."
With that, he and Ananta sank back into the river, the waters closing softly above them.
Ganesh and Aneet stood once more on the bank.
They walked on in silence for a while.
Then Aneet said quietly, "You didn't claim credit. You didn't even tell them your name."
Ganesh shrugged.
"The river knows who saved its child," he said. "That is enough."
She studied him, then smiled.
"You really don't want to be remembered, do you?"
Ganesh looked ahead.
"I want to be useful," he said. "Memory can come later… if it must."
Aneet nodded.
"I think," she said, "I'll walk with you a little longer."
Ganesh glanced at her.
"You don't have to."
She met his eyes steadily.
"I know," she said. "That's why I will."
Ganesh smiled.
"Then walk," he said.
And together, they continued down the road.
Two flames.
Choosing the same path.