The road to Nandivana wound downward through the dense Vindhya trees, and with every step, Arjun felt as if he was crossing from wilderness into another universe.
The air grew warmer. Birdsong grew louder. And the scent of blooming champa drifted through the leaves, thick and sweet.
Blade poked his head out of Arjun's arms, nose twitching. His small tail thumped twice against Arjun's ribs.
"You like the smell too?" Arjun murmured. The cub yipped, his eyes shining with renewed energy. Healing was still working — slowly but surely.
Tara walked a few steps ahead of him, posture straight, hair swaying with every stride.
When she glanced back at him occasionally — checking if he was still there — Arjun pretended he was admiring the trees instead.
The warmth in her gaze did something strange to his chest.
It felt… nice.
Too nice.
In his old world, girls barely noticed him. He was the guy with responsibilities, deadlines, a sick mother.
Romance belonged to someone else's life.
Here — a princess was walking in front of him, fierce and kind, and she'd chosen to trust him.
Arjun didn't know what to do with that.
As the caravan moved, the forest began thinning.
And then the world opened.
Arjun stopped dead.
Below the ridge spread a breathtaking panorama —
the walled city of Nandivana, nestled against the curve of a glittering river.
Its white stone walls rose high, crowned with red banners bearing lions and lotuses.
Beyond them, hundreds of tiled roofs climbed in steps, leading toward the towering central palace — luminous gold and deep maroon, domes soaring like mountains.
Markets buzzed even from afar. Boats glided lazily on the river. The sounds of life drifted upward — chatter, flute music, the clang of metal.
Arjun's breath left him in a quiet laugh.
"I'm… in a fantasy city."
Tara turned at the wonder in his voice. A smile flickered across her lips—small, fleeting, but real.
"Welcome to Nandivana, Arjun Ashkiran."
His heart thudded.
Something inside him whispered: This place will change you.
The world will remember your name.
The gates parted, soldiers bowing as Tara approached. People dropped to their knees as she passed — murmuring her title with reverence.
"Devi Tara." "Priestess blessed by Durga." "Lioness of the South."
Arjun tried not to stare. He failed.
Back home he blended into crowds. Here crowds parted for a girl his age.
Tara felt his eyes on her and slowed her pace until she walked beside him.
"You should stand straight," she murmured. "They'll judge you for every movement."
Arjun flushed and straightened. "Noted."
"And do not flinch if someone bows. They are greeting me, not you."
He immediately flinched when an old priest bowed. Tara sighed — but the edge of her mouth twitched.
Blade's tail slapped Arjun's stomach, as if laughing.
"Traitor," Arjun whispered to him.
Inside the palace, everything dazzled: Polished floors reflecting torchlight, Murals of gods slaying demons, Silk banners fluttering overhead, Sandalwood scents curling through the halls.
Arjun's sneakers — or whatever shoes this body had — squeaked embarrassingly on the marble.
Every guard who saw him frowned.
Every maid whispered.
Every noble in passing stared openly — at his ragged clothes, his scratched arms, the wolf cub now fully awake and glaring back.
Tara ignored them all.
"Keep walking. Do not let their eyes sink into your bones," she murmured.
Easy for her to say. She'd grown up under a spotlight. Arjun was used to being invisible.
Still, he followed — trying to copy her confidence.
Blade puffed up like he owned the place.
At the entrance to her private wing, the guard captain bowed.
"We will inform the Maharaja that you have returned, Devi. And about… the boy."
Arjun stiffened. So soon? He wasn't ready for king-level scrutiny.
Tara's voice turned cold enough to frost steel.
"You will not speak of him outside my order."
The guard hesitated. "But—"
"My order," Tara repeated, eyes sharp as arrows.
The captain swallowed and bowed deeply. "As you command."
Arjun stared at her — half impressed, half terrified.
"You scared him just by talking."
Tara brushed past him, expression calm. "Rulers must know when to be gentle, and when to be sharp."
"Which am I getting?" Arjun asked.
Tara shot him a sideways look. "Neither. You are getting honesty — which most cannot handle."
Arjun blinked. "…Fair."
She led him to a small, bright chamber with woven mats, low cushions, and trays of fruit.
His stomach growled loudly enough to echo.
Tara raised a brow. "Hungry?"
"Noooo," Arjun deadpanned.
"My stomach just likes singing."
A laugh escaped her — soft, surprised.
Arjun's chest warmed.
She nodded at the tray.
"Eat."
He didn't need telling twice.
Sweet mango slices, warm milky bread, soft rice cakes — Arjun devoured everything, while Blade gnawed enthusiastically on a piece of cooked meat.
Watching him eat, Tara's face softened — almost wistful.
"Have you been alone long?" she asked gently.
Arjun froze.
How could he explain losing his father? Watching his mother work herself sick? Carrying responsibility too heavy for a kid?
He settled for: "Long enough."
Her eyes glimmered with sympathy — but she didn't push.
Instead, she said: "You are safe here."
Arjun wanted to believe that.
But deep down he felt eyes tracking him. Even walls had ears in palaces.
A knock interrupted the moment.
A palace scholar entered — hair long, eyes sharp, robes ink-stained.
He bowed to Tara, then turned to Arjun with curiosity — not hostility.
"I am Master Vedanth, historian and rune-reader of the royal court."
His gaze lingered on Arjun's chest — where the faint Ashkiran mark pulsed beneath his shirt.
"You carry the blood of legends, boy."
Arjun stiffened. Blade growled low in his throat.
Vedanth raised a brow.
"Fascinating companion."
Tara stepped closer, voice firm. "We need answers. What is the Ashkiran name?"
Vedanth inhaled deeply, then spoke — voice low, rich with weight:
"Long ago, in the Age of Storms,
when demons ruled the skies
and rivers ran red with thunder,
the gods forged a lineage to tip the balance—
Warriors born with light in their veins."
He met Arjun's eyes.
"They were called Ashkiran — Walkers of Dawn."
Arjun's pulse roared.
Walkers of Dawn? Demons? God-forged bloodline?
His life had gone from part-time coding to mythological destiny overnight.
Vedanth continued: "But the Ashkiran vanished centuries ago.
Slain, hunted… erased from history."
Tara's gaze flicked to Arjun — and something protectively fierce flickered in her eyes.
Arjun whispered: "So why… me?"
Vedanth smiled faintly.
"Destinies do not choose lightly."
Blade let out a soft howl — as if agreeing.
Outside the palace walls, in a temple shadow, assassins relit their black sigils.
A dark priest hissed:
"The Ashkiran child has walked into the lion's den."
Another voice answered — velvet and venomous:
"Good.
Now we know where to strike."
Arjun wiped mango juice from his mouth, oblivious to the webs closing around him.
He looked at Tara — and she looked back.
Unspoken spark. Unspoken questions. An unbreakable thread woven by fate.
For the first time since arriving, he whispered:
"Thank you… for finding me."
Tara's breath caught — just a fraction — before she nodded.
"You were never lost, Arjun," she said softly.
"You were meant to be found."
To be continued...