Chapter 8: The Meaning of Shadows

The sky had not changed, but something within Arin had.

The ground beneath his feet was solid, yet he still felt like he was falling.

Agnivarna walked ahead in silence, his steps light but deliberate. The path twisted through the dense forest, mist curling around their ankles like ghosts.

For a while, Arin said nothing.

He was still catching his breath.

His hands trembled. Not from exertion—but from the lingering chill of what he had seen.

A reflection.

A battlefield.

A throne.

A sky burning in gold and red.

And that face.

Not his, but somehow still him.

He swallowed hard. "That… thing. It spoke to me."

Agnivarna did not stop walking. "I know."

Arin frowned. "You do?"

Agnivarna glanced at him. "I am a Rishi. There is little I do not know."

There was no arrogance in his voice—only fact.

They walked in silence for a while longer before the Rishi finally stopped.

A fallen tree lay across the path, its bark scorched black from lightning long past. Agnivarna sat upon it and gestured for Arin to do the same.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind. Then—

"Tell me exactly what you saw."

---

Arin exhaled slowly.

He closed his eyes.

And he spoke.

He described the darkness that had swallowed him whole. The whispers that had coiled around his mind like creeping vines. The reflection—his own face, yet not his own—staring back at him with eyes that burned like embers.

The battlefield.

The throne.

The sky of fire.

And the figure he could not name—but somehow knew.

When he finished, Agnivarna was silent.

For a long time, the Rishi simply studied him.

Then, he said: "It was not a vision of the future."

Arin blinked.

"It was not?"

Agnivarna shook his head. "No. Nor was it merely a trick of the entity you faced." He rested his elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced. "What you saw was a truth. A truth buried within you."

Arin felt a cold weight settle in his chest. "I… I don't understand."

Agnivarna's gaze sharpened. "You were born with a gift, were you not?"

A flicker of unease ran through Arin. "What do you mean?"

"Your ability," the Rishi said. "To hide what you are. To make others question your race, your nature. You wield it like a mask, but tell me—"

His voice became like stone.

"What if one day, the mask does not come off?"

Arin's breath caught.

Agnivarna continued. "The reflection you saw—it was a part of you. Not a future self, nor a phantom. It was you, stripped of all pretense."

A chill ran down Arin's spine. "That's not possible."

Agnivarna's gaze remained steady. "Is it not?"

Arin clenched his fists. "Then what does it mean?"

Agnivarna leaned back, staring up at the sky.

"It means you do not know who you are."

---

They did not speak for a long time after that.

Agnivarna let Arin sit with his thoughts. The weight of them was heavy—like chains he had only now realized he carried.

He had thought he understood himself.

That he was simply Arin.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But now…

His hands clenched.

What if I truly don't know?

A shiver passed through the trees.

Not from the wind.

Agnivarna's head lifted slightly. His fingers twitched, as if sensing something unseen.

Arin noticed. "What is it?"

The Rishi did not answer.

Instead, he turned his gaze toward the treeline.

Arin followed his stare—and felt his stomach drop.

There—standing between the shifting mist and the gnarled trees—was a figure.

Half-hidden in the shadows, their form was obscured, but their presence pressed upon the world like a weight.

Arin could not see their face. But he could feel their eyes.

Watching.

Unmoving.

Waiting.

Agnivarna did not rise. He simply spoke. "You have been following us for some time now."

The figure remained silent.

Then—they took a step forward.

A glint of gold. A whisper of power.

Arin stiffened. This presence…

Before he could speak, Agnivarna's voice cut through the air.

"Enough."

It was not a command.

It was a warning.

The figure stopped.

For a moment, the world itself seemed to hold its breath.

And then—they vanished.

The mist swallowed them whole.

Arin released a breath he did not realize he had been holding. "Who… who was that?"

Agnivarna's eyes lingered on the spot where the figure had stood.

His expression was unreadable.

"Someone who is not yet ready to reveal themselves."

Arin swallowed. "Are they… dangerous?"

Agnivarna was silent for a moment. Then, he said:

"All who watch from the shadows are dangerous."

---

By the time they reached their resting place for the night, Arin's thoughts were a storm.

His vision.

His reflection.

The figure in the mist.

He was beginning to realize—this journey was not just about learning strength.

It was about understanding himself.

And that was far more terrifying than any battle.

As the stars burned overhead, Agnivarna spoke once more.

"Your next trial will not be like the first."

Arin looked up. "What do you mean?"

Agnivarna's gaze was distant. "It will not test your body. Nor your mind."

Arin frowned. "Then what?"

The Rishi's lips curled slightly.

"Your very soul."

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