The forest at night was a labyrinth of shadows and unseen threats, but it was a sanctuary compared to the open path. They moved like ghosts, with Neel's innate connection to the wild guiding their steps away from game trails and patrol routes. The encounter with Shwet had stripped away the last illusion of safety. They were fugitives now, hunted by both friend and foe.
The serpentine dagger felt unnaturally heavy at Anal's belt, a cold, alien weight against his hip. At first, he thought it was just his imagination, a lingering pariah from the temple's malevolence. But as they put more distance between themselves and the ruins, he became sure of it. A faint, almost imperceptible thrum of energy was emanating from the weapon. It wasn't hostile, not like the Catalyst. It was… connective. A spider sitting at the edge of a vast, unseen web.
"Stop for a moment," Anal whispered, holding up a hand.
Neel immediately stilled, his senses alert. "What is it? Are we followed?"
"Not by men," Anal said, his voice low. He carefully drew the dagger. In the deep gloom of the forest, the carved serpent on the hilt seemed to writhe in the faint starlight. "This blade. It's… alive. Not with a spirit, but with a signal."
Neel's eyes narrowed. He approached cautiously, not touching the dagger, but holding a hand near it. He closed his eyes, his water-nature seeking the subtle flows of energy around it. "You're right," he confirmed, his voice tight. "It's a beacon. A very subtle one. It's not shouting our location, but it's… humming. Marking a point on a map for those who know how to listen."
A cold dread washed over Anal. They had taken a trophy, but it was a leash. The Conclave could be tracking them right now, following this silent pulse through the wilderness.
"We have to get rid of it," Neel said. "Throw it into a deep ravine, let the river carry it away."
Anal's first instinct was to agree. To sever this connection immediately. But then another thought, colder and more calculating, surfaced. He was tired of being reactive, of running from traps. The dagger was a danger, but it was also a window.
"Wait," he said, his fingers tightening around the hilt. "What if we could use it?"
"Use it? Anal, it's a tracking device!"
"It's a link to their network," Anal countered, his mind racing. "Agneya called himself the 'Voice.' That implies there are others. An 'Ear,' perhaps. Or 'Eyes.' What if this dagger doesn't just broadcast a location? What if it can also… receive?"
Neel stared at him, aghast. "You want to listen to it? That's madness. It's like putting your ear to a serpent's den."
"Is it any more mad than wandering blindly while they hunt us?" Anal shot back. "We know nothing about their numbers, their plans, their next move. This," he held up the dagger, "this is intelligence. If I can channel my energy into it, not to empower it, but to tap into its stream… I might be able to hear their whispers."
The risk was astronomical. It was like trying to drink from a poisoned river. The Conclave's corrosive energy could easily flood his senses, overwhelming him just as the Catalyst had tried to do.
"Your control is still new, Anal," Neel warned, his concern evident. "The temple was too close. If you lose yourself in that current…"
"Then you'll pull me out," Anal said, his gaze steady on Neel. "Like you did before. You are my balance, Neel. That is what we are now. This is our first true test."
The weight of the statement settled between them. This was no longer about a vow. It was about a partnership forged in fire and water. Neel searched Anal's face, saw the desperate resolve there, and finally gave a slow, reluctant nod.
"Alright," he conceded. "But the moment it becomes too much, I'm freezing the dagger and throwing it into the nearest chasm. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
They found a small, hidden clearing shielded by a thick canopy. Anal sat cross-legged on the damp earth, placing the dagger on the ground before him. Neel knelt behind him, his hands resting lightly on Anal's shoulders, a physical anchor to the present.
Anal took a deep breath, centering himself. He reached for the disciplined flame within, not the wild inferno, and extended a single, hair-thin thread of his fiery awareness towards the dagger.
The moment his energy touched the cold metal, the world dissolved into a cacophony of whispers.
It was a torrent of sound and intent, a hundred overlapping voices speaking in coded phrases and dark ambitions. He heard snippets, fragments that chilled his blood.
"...the Ember Lord is displeased with Agneya's failure. The Catalyst is lost..."
"...the Whispering Falls location is compromised. The Neelgarh hounds are sniffing too close..."
"...the Fire Prince lives. The Keeper is with him. The bond strengthens. A complication..."
"...redirect assets to the Sun-Scorched Plains. The next Catalyst must be secured. The Prince will awaken..."
It was overwhelming. The sheer volume of malice and conspiracy threatened to drown his consciousness. He felt his focus slipping, the thread of his awareness beginning to fray under the assault.
Then, he felt it. A cool, steadying pressure from behind him. It was Neel's presence, not as a voice, but as a feeling—the deep, patient calm of the abyssal ocean. It built a wall around Anal's mind, not blocking the whispers, but giving him a stable foundation to stand on while he listened. The chaos was still there, but he was no longer being swept away by it.
He pushed deeper, searching for a central thread, a commanding voice. And then he found it. A voice that was not a whisper, but a cold, burning command that silenced the others.
"The Prince seeks mastery. He will be drawn to places of power. The Ashram of the Silent Peak."
Anal's heart turned to ice.
"Move our forces to the passes leading to the Vindhyas. Let the Keeper lead him to us. This time, we will not fail. The Fire Prince will be ours, and the Keeper's water will be the first steam to rise from his ascension."
Anal ripped his awareness back, gasping, the connection severing with a painful jolt. He fell forward, his hands braced on the ground, his body trembling.
"Anal!" Neel's hands tightened on his shoulders. "What did you hear?"
Anal looked up, his eyes wide with horror. He met Neel's worried gaze.
"They know," Anal breathed, the words tasting like ash. "They know about the Ashram. They're not chasing us anymore, Neel. They're waiting for us. They're herding us right into their hands."
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