The words landed not like a blow, but like a shard of ice sinking into Anal's heart. You are the prize.
The forest, the clearing, the retreating threat of the hooded man—it all narrowed to this single, incomprehensible point. Him. The Crown Prince of Tejgarh, a kingdom of fire and forge, was a prize in some shadowy game he knew nothing about.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Anal's voice was low, a dangerous ember of the fury that was beginning to burn through his shock. The feeling of being an object, a thing to be won, was a deeper insult than any mockery Neel had ever thrown his way. "Explain yourself. Now."
Neel let out a short, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. "You think it's that simple? You think I can just lay it all out for you here and now?" He gestured wildly in the direction the man had vanished. "He was right. You've seen too much, and now you're a liability. To them, and to me."
"Then un-complicate it," Anal shot back, taking a step forward, his own fists clenched. The space between them crackled with hostile energy. "Who was that man? What is this 'plan'? And why, by all the gods, would I be its objective?"
"That man," Neel said, his voice dropping, "is a reminder. A messenger from a reality that exists outside these peaceful Gurukul walls. A reality our fathers' war almost destroyed." He looked at Anal, his gaze intense. "And the plan… the plan is to ensure that destruction is never completed. That the fire of Tejgarh and the waters of Neelgarh do not consume each other entirely."
Anal stared, his mind reeling. This was about their kingdoms? About the ancient, bitter enmity that had claimed his aunt's life and festered like a wound between their families? "And how does making me a 'prize' prevent a war?"
"Because you're not just a prince, Anal," Neel said, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. "You are the heir of the Fire Clan. Your birth was prophesied. Your power, when it fully awakens, is the key. Some wish to wield that key. Others… wish to ensure it is never turned."
A prophecy. The word felt foreign and absurd, like something from the old myths the Acharyas taught, not something that belonged to his life, his future. He thought of the strange surge of heat he sometimes felt under his skin, the way flames in the sacrificial pit seemed to dance for him alone. He had always thought it mere affinity, not… destiny.
"And you?" Anal asked, the question leaving his lips before he could stop it. "What do you wish to do with this… key?"
For a long moment, Neel was silent. The moonlight caught the silver threads in his blue robes and the determined set of his jaw. "I wish to protect it," he said finally, the words simple and stark. "I made a vow, long before I ever met you. To protect the Fire Prince, even if it means from himself. Even if he hates me for it."
The confession hung in the air, staggering in its implications. All this time, Neel's teasing, his challenges, his constant presence—was it all a facade? A cover for this… this sworn duty? The rivalry Anal had thought was real was nothing but a performance. The hollow ache he had felt since their collision returned, deeper now. Had anything between them been genuine?
"You have been lying to me," Anal stated, the words flat and cold. "From the very first day. Everything was a deception."
"It was a necessity!" Neel's composure finally broke, a flash of real anger in his eyes. "You, who live your life by a code of rigid honesty, you have no idea what it's like to carry a secret that could get people killed! To have to play a part every waking moment so that the wrong people don't see the truth! Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I wanted to be assigned as your… your keeper?"
The word 'keeper' was the final insult. It stripped Anal of his agency, reducing him to a helpless, volatile creature that needed to be managed. The fury that had been simmering within him boiled over.
"I am no one's prize," Anal snarled, "and I am certainly no one's kept pet. I do not need your protection, Neel. I never asked for it."
He turned on his heel, the need to escape this clearing, this conversation, this unbearable truth, overwhelming all else.
"Anal, wait!" Neel called out, his voice laced with a sudden, sharp urgency.
But Anal didn't stop. He strode back into the dark embrace of the forest, his mind a chaos of betrayal, confusion, and a searing, profound hurt. He was a pawn in a game, a prize to be won, a key to be controlled. The foundations of his identity, so carefully built on duty and discipline, felt like they were crumbling to dust.
He barely registered the journey back, slipping past the guards and into the silent, sleeping Gurukul. He went straight to the one place that had always offered solace: the empty training grounds. He picked up a practice sword, its familiar weight a small comfort. He began his forms again, each strike against the night air a denial of Neel's words, a rebellion against the fate that had been imposed upon him.
He was so lost in his furious practice that he didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching. It was only when a calm, ancient voice spoke from the shadows of the colonnade that he froze, his blade mid-swing.
"The night holds many truths, Prince Anal," said Guru Vrish, his form emerging from the darkness. "But it seems you have already learned the one I came here to tell you. The man with the serpent dagger… he was not the first to come for you. And he will not be the last."
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