The streets of Vishishtarajya no longer sounded like the city Herald had crossed that morning. Only hours earlier, merchants had shouted beneath cloth awnings while children raced through alleys and incense mixed with cooked grain and hot sand.
Now shutters covered most storefronts, and mothers called children inside before the bells finished another round. Those who remained outside carried water skins, bundles of jadibutis, armour or weapons, already knowing what the bells meant.
Herald kept pace beside Erudite while the Yama Danda struck stone every few steps. Each impact travelled into his palm with a familiarity he still did not trust.
"Does this happen often?" Herald asked as they passed two men carrying medical supplies. Erudite kept his eyes ahead, his usual humour gone.
"Often enough that people stop asking why." Nearby, a woman tightened the straps of her husband’s breastplate while their daughter watched from the doorway with a wooden horse against her chest.
"The Asuras don’t care about rituals, festivals or whether someone was supposed to come home for dinner," Erudite said. "When they appear, everything else stops."
Herald glanced behind them and found Fancy several steps back. Whenever the crowd forced him to slow, she slowed too, preserving the same careful distance.
Their eyes met once before Fancy looked ahead. Her words after the ritual returned with the tremor in her hands: I won’t hurt you. Never. Herald almost called her name, but she had let his silence survive when he could not speak about Naraka, so he gave her the same space.
Divyabhawan rose beyond the rooftops, its gates crowded with physicians, messengers and armed Siddhas. The place that had felt festive that morning now looked like the heart of a kingdom preparing to bleed.
Medical satchels and bundles of jadibutis moved through the entrance while blacksmiths inspected blades along the walls. Messengers slipped between formations, and Siddhas tightened armour or tested weapons before joining the growing ranks.
Some of the same young faces from the ritual were still inside the great hall. Fresh Pathway marks now sat beside clenched jaws and weapons held too tightly.
"So this is what everyone was preparing for," Herald said. Erudite looked across the gathering before answering.
"This is Karma. The duty we fulfil until our final breath." The certainty in his voice made the word easier to understand than any forgotten lesson.
A conch sounded before Herald could ask more, rolling beneath the stone ceiling with enough force to silence thousands. Conversations vanished, armour stopped rattling, and warriors turned toward the front despite there being no stage or throne.
Herald searched above the crowd. "Where is everyone looking?" he asked, and Erudite lowered his voice.
"You won’t see him. The President is addressing us." Herald glanced over. "President?"
"Just listen." Erudite’s attention had already gone still.
A voice filled Divyabhawan without seeming to come from any one direction. "Children of Vishishtarajya."
Heads lowered throughout the hall, and the voice carried to every corner without growing louder. Its calmness pulled the enormous gathering inward.
"Since the birth of our kingdom, generation after generation has stood where you stand now. We have guarded these borders with our lives. We have buried our sons and daughters so the rest of the world could continue believing in peace."
Herald’s gaze moved through the crowd. An old woman nearby closed her eyes, while farther ahead a warrior tightened both hands around his spear.
"They call us cursed. They call us impure. Yet when darkness rises, they stand behind us." A few shoulders hardened, but the President continued before resentment could spread.
"Do not carry hatred into battle. Hatred clouds judgment. Hatred blinds Dharma. Fight because it is your duty, not because you seek revenge."
Beside Herald, Erudite murmured, "Perform your duty without attachment to its fruits." Herald glanced toward him, but Erudite kept his eyes forward.
"The ancient prophecy remains unchanged. When Dharma reaches its darkest hour, the Lord shall descend once again. The wheel of time shall turn, and a new Yuga shall begin."
Hands folded in prayer across the hall, while others touched the marks on their wrists. Herald did neither; he tightened his grip around the Yama Danda and listened.
"Until that day, we shall endure." A breath of silence passed before the President spoke once more.
? ? ??? ???????? ? ?
Om Namo Narayana.
Thousands answered, their voices rolling beneath the ceiling like distant thunder. The sound had barely faded before the invocation came again.
? ? ??? ???????? ? ?
The stone beneath Herald’s sandals seemed to tremble with the response. Fear remained in pale faces and stiff shoulders, but the chant gathered those separate fears into one voice.
? ? ??? ???????? ? ?
OM NAMO NARAYANA.
The final repetition travelled through the Yama Danda into Herald’s palm. For those few breaths, nobody in the hall seemed alone.
A laugh sliced through the fading chant. "So this is the famous spirit of Vishishtarajya," a young soldier said from among a group in polished white armour.
Diamond-shaped insignias marked their breastplates, and the young man surveyed the hall with open disdain. "Cursed people praying for another age. How pitiful."
The insult carried farther than he seemed to expect, and nearby hands settled against weapon hilts. Herald glanced toward Erudite and found his right hand closed into a fist.
Fancy stood farther back with her gaze lowered. Herald could not tell whether she was ignoring the soldiers or refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
An older, broader man in white armour stepped forward. "Enough," he said, and the younger soldier fell silent immediately.
"We came because there is an emergency beyond the walls. Save your strength for it." The younger soldier lowered his head. "Yes, Commander."
"They are our allies today." The commander passed him, then added quietly enough for those nearby to hear, "Don’t waste military resources over wounded pride. They’re expendable enough already."
His gaze travelled across Vishishtarajya’s warriors, and Erudite’s fist tightened once more before opening. Herald watched the soldiers move away.
"You heard that," Herald said. Erudite’s jaw shifted once. "Yes."
"And you’re going to let it go?" Herald asked, sharper than he intended. Erudite kept looking toward the inner hall.
"For now. We have people outside the walls who need us alive." His voice remained level. "I’ll spend my anger when it becomes useful."
A drum sounded, pulling attention toward the centre of the hall. Sealed scrolls passed into commanders’ hands while names echoed through the chamber.
Some Siddhas stepped forward immediately, while others embraced whoever had come with them. Herald watched one young woman kiss two fingers and press them to an older man’s forehead; neither said goodbye.
An attendant handed Erudite a sealed scroll. The wax broke beneath his thumb, and dark letters spread across the parchment as it unrolled.
──────── ? ────────? ???????? ???? (Assignment Order) ?
DIVYABHAWAN FIELD DEPLOYMENT
COMMANDERS
ERUDITE
FACADE
ASSIGNED PATHWAY HOLDERS
HERALD
PERIL
CULPA
LUDICROUS
LANTHEA
BACKUP PATHWAY HOLDERS
KETU
RAKA
DHURV? ???? ???????? (Duty Assignment) ?
──────── ? ────────
Erudite’s eyes moved down the list while Herald leaned closer. "Looks like we’re together again," Erudite said, and Herald looked from his own name toward the others.
"Again?" Herald asked, but Erudite was already checking the deployment details. Herald barely had time to wonder who half the names belonged to before something slammed into him from the side.
Two arms locked around his shoulders hard enough to jolt the Yama Danda against the floor. "You idiot! I thought you were dead!"
The stranger held him for another second before pulling back, hands still gripping Herald’s shoulders as though checking he was solid. He looked around Herald’s age, perhaps a little older, with a long spear across his back and a crimson blade catching the light.
His enormous grin faltered when he looked properly into Herald’s eyes. "You really don’t remember me."
Herald had heard versions of that sentence too many times. "I’m sorry," he said, and for once the stranger had no joke ready.
He scratched the back of his head before forcing a smaller grin. "Well... this is awkward."
"Peril," Erudite warned, though there was more exhaustion than anger in his voice. "Don’t overwhelm him."
"I’m not overwhelming him." Peril looked genuinely offended while Erudite rolled the assignment scroll closed.
"You attacked him before introducing yourself." Erudite’s dry tone made Herald glance between them.
"That was a hug." Peril turned toward Herald as though the distinction should have been obvious.
"Debatable." Erudite stepped aside, and Peril ignored him.
He held out his hand. "Peril. We grew up together." Herald accepted it, and something about the grip felt strangely natural.
His hand tightened to exactly the right pressure before he consciously decided how firmly to return it. Peril noticed and grinned. "See? Somewhere in that empty head, you still know me."
"That’s your evidence?" Herald asked, and Peril released him.
"It’s enough for now." He began counting memories on his fingers. "Gurukul? Guru Drona? Skipping meditation lessons? Getting punished so often that eventually the punishment became part of our schedule?"
Each name landed without touching anything inside Herald. He searched behind every memory Peril offered, hoping one might catch beneath the shraap, but nothing did.
"I’m sorry. I don’t..." Herald began, and Peril caught his arm before he could finish.
"Stop apologizing." The humour left Peril’s face, and his grip tightened once.
"You came back alive. That’s enough." Peril stepped beside him as the noise of Divyabhawan closed around them again.
A lazy voice drifted from somewhere behind Herald. "How touching." Peril’s expression changed immediately, and Herald turned toward the voice before the speaker came into view.