The Path to Destiny
Dawn broke gently at the foot of Mount Mahameru.
The golden light of morning swept through the forest, glistening upon leaves still heavy with the kiss of dew. The world awoke in a hush, breathing anew after a night fraught with shadows.
In a small, hidden hut, deep within the woods, the handmaiden sat beside Nagantara, who lay in peaceful slumber.
His face was calm, his breath even, yet his small body still radiated the lingering warmth of the dragon's mark upon his back.
The handmaiden inhaled slowly, her fingers brushing softly against his brow.
The memories of the night before still clung to her mind—the blinding blue light, the sheer power that had surged forth from the child, and the way it had eradicated the creature that had pursued them.
Awe warred with fear in her heart.
She could not deny the truth any longer.
"You are stronger than I ever imagined," she whispered, though the words were meant for no one but herself.
Rising slowly, she unlatched the small wooden window, allowing the crisp morning air to drift into the hut.
Her gaze traveled past the towering trees, to the distant horizon where the mountain stood eternal and unmoving.
Yet her thoughts remained on Nagantara.
He was not just a child.
He was something greater—something that had been entrusted to her since the night of their flight from the Celestial Palace.
She had known it then.
But now, more than ever, she felt the weight of that truth.
Suddenly, Nagantara stirred in his sleep.
His silver-blue eyes fluttered open, hazy with weariness yet filled with an unspoken depth of wonder.
"Mother…"
His voice was soft, fragile.
The handmaiden knelt beside him immediately, her touch gentle.
"I am here, my child."
"Are you well?"
He nodded slowly, though exhaustion still clung to him like mist.
"I had a strange dream," he murmured.
His young fingers clutched at the blanket, his gaze drifting into thought.
"I saw… a great dragon. And a towering mountain."
The handmaiden stiffened.
"A dragon?" she repeated carefully.
Nagantara's brows furrowed as he tried to recall.
"Yes. The dragon spoke to me."
"But I do not understand what it said."
She did not answer at once.
Her mind turned, considering his words.
Could this be mere dreaming?
Or was it something more—a whisper from something ancient and vast?
A call toward his destiny?
"The dragon may be a part of you," she said at last. "You bear the mark of the dragon, Nagantara. It is not merely a symbol—it is a part of who you are."
Nagantara's silver-blue eyes widened.
"What does that mean, Mother? Am I a dragon?"
She smiled, shaking her head gently.
"No, my child. You are human. But you are also more than that.
You are the bridge between three worlds—mortal, divine, and darkness. That is why you possess this power."
The day passed slowly, yet Nagantara gradually regained his strength.
He spent his time sitting outside the hut, watching the small birds that flitted through the trees above.
But something had changed within him.
A new awareness.
A whispering truth that he was different, that he carried something greater than he had ever known.
That afternoon, as the handmaiden prepared their meal, Nagantara wandered toward the stream that flowed near their dwelling.
He knelt by the water's edge, his gaze falling upon his reflection.
In the rippling surface of the river, he could see the faint shimmer of the dragon's mark upon his back—a silent reminder of what he was.
"I wish I knew what all of this meant," he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.
He picked up a small stone, tossing it into the water.
Ripples spread outward, shattering his reflection into a thousand fragments.
Suddenly—
A voice spoke from behind him.
"You are different, Nagantara."
He turned instantly, his heart hammering.
But no one was there.
Only a small blue bird, perched upon a low branch, watching him with piercing, knowing eyes.
"You are special."
The voice came again.
Nagantara froze, realizing that it did not come from the bird—but from within himself.
He stared at the creature, his mind whirling with uncertainty.
But before he could speak, the bird took flight—
Its wings left a faint shimmer in the air, a trace of something unseen, unknowable.
Nagantara sat motionless, confusion and awe twisting together in his heart.
Somehow, he understood.
He had been given a message.
Even if he did not yet fully grasp its meaning.
That night, as the handmaiden tucked Nagantara into his bed, he gazed at her with quiet intensity.
"Mother," he said softly. "Why am I here?"
She paused, then slowly sat beside him.
"Why do I not live among the gods?"
The handmaiden exhaled, her fingers brushing lightly through his dark hair.
For a moment, she was silent.
Then, with quiet certainty, she spoke.
"Because you are destined for something greater, my child."
Her voice was gentle, yet behind it lay an unshakable truth.
"But the world does not always welcome great things with open arms.
That is why I brought you here—to protect you until the time is right."
Nagantara's brows furrowed slightly.
"The time for what?"
The handmaiden smiled, placing a hand over his small one.
"The time for you to understand who you truly are."
Her eyes gleamed with quiet faith.
"And I believe, when that time comes—you will know."
Nagantara nodded slowly, though many questions still lingered within his heart.
That night, he slept peacefully, unaware that the world beyond him was already shifting—slowly but surely—toward a greater conflict.
Morning broke gently over the small village at the foot of Mount Mahameru.
The villagers emerged from their homes, tending to their fields, gathering firewood, and carrying harvests to the market square.
To an outsider's eye, all seemed as it always had been.
Yet beneath this quiet routine, a storm was brewing.
The whispers about Nagantara had begun to spread—no longer mere curiosities, but divisions that deepened with every passing day.
In a shadowed corner of the village market, a group had gathered.
Their voices were low, hushed, but thick with tension.
A large man, his face weathered and rough, slammed his fist upon the wooden table before him.
"We cannot allow that child to stay here any longer."
His voice rumbled, filled with simmering anger.
"He brings something unnatural upon this village."
An elderly woman, seated beside him, folded her arms.
"How do you know this?" she asked, her tone sharp. "The boy has never harmed anyone."
"Not yet."
The man's jaw tightened.
"But what will happen when he grows stronger? Did you not see what happened to my fields last week? The flames came out of nowhere! That was his doing."
The woman narrowed her eyes.
"And yet," she countered, "after the rain, your crops grew healthier than they ever had before. Perhaps the child brings a blessing."
The man's face darkened, his frustration boiling over.
"Stop defending him! We do not know whether he is a blessing or a curse.
But I, for one, will not sit idle and wait for this village to be destroyed."
The argument escalated, but no decision was made.
The village was divided—some saw Nagantara as a gift, while others saw him as a danger.
And in the small hut at the edge of the village, the handmaiden listened.
She had heard the murmurs, felt the shifting tides of fear.
She knew their time in this village was running out.
Yet she did not know where they could go next.
Her eyes drifted toward Nagantara, who was playing beneath the shade of a tree.
A silent oath burned within her heart.
She would protect him, no matter the cost.
"Nagantara."
Her voice was soft, yet firm.
The child turned, his expression bright with youthful joy as he ran to her side.
"What is it, Mother?"
She knelt before him, her hands resting upon his small shoulders.
Her eyes searched his, willing him to understand.
"Listen to me, my child."
Her voice was low, careful, as though the very air might carry her words to those who should not hear them.
"Not everyone in this village can accept you."
"Some of them fear you, even though you have never harmed anyone."
Nagantara's smile faded, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Why are they afraid?"
"I have done nothing to them."
The handmaiden's heart ached at the innocence in his voice.
She let out a slow breath.
"Because they do not understand what you are."
She cupped his face gently.
"But I want you to remember this: no matter what happens, you must always choose kindness.
Never let their fear turn you into something you are not."
Nagantara held her gaze for a long moment, absorbing the weight of her words.
Then, at last, he nodded slowly.
"I will be kind, Mother."
His voice was soft, but there was a quiet certainty within it.
"I promise."
That evening, the first true conflict arose.
As Nagantara played by the small river, the same village children who had once mocked him returned.
But this time—
They were not alone.
A large man, the very one who had spoken against Nagantara in the marketplace, strode beside them.
His eyes were dark, filled with suspicion and anger.
"There he is!" one of the children cried. "He's the one making strange things happen!"
The man's gaze hardened, fixing upon Nagantara like a predator upon prey.
"You."
His voice was low, but laced with unmistakable threat.
"What are you hiding upon your back?"
Nagantara stepped backward, his small frame trembling.
"I am hiding nothing," he said softly.
The man's expression darkened.
"Lies!"
Without warning, he lunged forward, reaching to seize Nagantara by the shoulder—
But the child recoiled, retreating further.
"I am not evil!"
Nagantara's voice broke with fear, his breath shallow, his hands trembling at his sides.
Yet just as the man advanced once more, something unforeseen happened.
A sudden silver-blue light erupted from Nagantara's back, illuminating the entire riverbank.
The ground itself seemed to tremble, as though awakening to his presence.
The man stumbled, his eyes widening in shock.
"What is this?"
His voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of awe and fury.
Then his expression twisted into something darker.
"This is a curse!"
The villagers began to gather, drawn by the commotion.
Some stared in wonder, entranced by the ethereal glow surrounding the boy.
Others stepped backward, their faces stricken with doubt and fear.
Then—
A voice, urgent, desperate—
"Nagantara!"
The handmaiden came running from the hut, her eyes wide with alarm.
She halted when she saw him, standing alone in the center of the growing crowd—
His back aglow, his mark revealed for all to see.
Nagantara turned, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"I do not know why this is happening, Mother," he whispered.
The handmaiden reached for him, pulling him into her arms, shielding him with her presence.
Then she faced the gathering crowd, her voice steady, unwavering.
"He is no curse."
Her words rang out clear and firm.
"He is a child. A good child."
The large man snarled.
"He is no ordinary child! He is a harbinger of destruction!"
The crowd erupted into argument, voices clashing in a storm of fear and uncertainty.
Yet the handmaiden did not wait.
She gripped Nagantara's hand, her hold tight, protective.
And without another word—
She pulled him away from the gathering, disappearing before the storm of suspicion could spiral further into danger.
That night, the small village at the foot of Mount Mahameru lay silent once more.
Yet the air felt heavy, as though burdened by an unseen weight.
The wind carried a strange scent—earth dampened by dew, but laced with something else.
Something cold, sharp.
A whisper of danger, creeping ever closer.
In their small hut, the handmaiden sat in the shadows.
Her eyes rested on Nagantara, asleep upon a woven mat, his breath slow, steady.
After the events of the day, she knew—
Their time here was ending.
The fear in the villagers' hearts was no longer just whispers—
It was turning into something real.
Something dangerous.
"We cannot stay here much longer," she murmured, her voice barely above a breath.
Yet before she could dwell upon her thoughts—
A sound reached her ears.
A low, guttural growl.
Heavy footsteps pressed into the earth outside.
Her body tensed.
Her fingers curled around the small dagger she always kept close.
Heart pounding, she crept toward the door, her ears straining against the silence.
The steps grew louder.
Closer.
Through a small gap in the bamboo wall, she peered outside—
And what she saw sent ice through her veins.
A great beast prowled the darkness.
Its form was like a wolf, yet far larger than any mortal creature.
Its fur was black, sleek, and shone beneath the pale light of the moon.
But its eyes—its eyes burned like fire.
Glowing red orbs, brimming with a deadly intent.
A hunter sent by the Celestial Council.
It had found them.
The handmaiden's heart pounded.
She spun around, reaching for Nagantara, shaking him gently—urgently.
"Nagantara, wake up."
Her voice was low, yet filled with urgency.
The boy stirred, his silver-blue eyes blinking open.
"Mother?" he murmured sleepily.
"There is no time to explain."
Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, bundling him in a thick cloth to shield him from the cold.
She knew—
They could not hide.
The beast was already too close.
Beyond the walls, the creature let out a deep, echoing snarl.
The sound carried across the village, stirring the slumbering homes.
One by one, doors creaked open.
Villagers stepped out, their hands clutching torches, their faces pale with fear.
"What is that?"
A voice broke the silence.
A gray-haired elder stepped forward, his gaze narrowed with recognition.
"That is no ordinary beast," he said, his voice hushed.
"That is a messenger of the gods… but why is it here?"
The wolf-like creature did not slow.
It moved forward, relentless.
Its fiery eyes locked upon a single destination—
A small hut at the edge of the village.
It had found its prey.
Then, the door to the hut swung open.
The handmaiden emerged, Nagantara clutched in her arms.
Her eyes were fierce, yet her hands trembled.
She would not run.
She would not hide.
She would face this threat, no matter the cost.
"You will not touch him."
Her voice was steady, unyielding.
Yet in her hand, she gripped only a small dagger—a fragile weapon against a beast of such monstrous size.
The creature halted, its burning eyes fixed upon her.
"Surrender the child," it growled, its voice deep, reverberating through the air.
"He does not belong here."
The handmaiden did not falter.
"He will go nowhere with you."
Her grip on the dagger tightened.
"If you wish to take him, you must pass through me first."
The beast snarled, stepping forward—its fangs gleaming, its breath thick with menace.
Yet just as it prepared to strike—
A brilliant blue light erupted from Nagantara's back, searing through the darkness.
The creature let out a terrible, piercing howl, its form recoiling as though burned.
The villagers watched in stunned silence.
Some whispered in awe.
Others stood frozen, uncertain whether to fear or revere what they had seen.
"He is the child of prophecy," an old woman murmured.
Her voice trembled, filled with awe and wonder.
"He carries the power of the gods."
But the large man, the one who had spoken against Nagantara before, remained unyielding.
His expression twisted with fury.
"No!" he roared.
"He is a danger to us all! The creature came because of him!"
The handmaiden knew.
This was their moment to flee.
Before the balance of fear and reverence tipped too far against them.
Without hesitation, she turned and ran, Nagantara held tightly in her arms.
She darted toward the forest, the whispers of the villagers fading behind her.
But the beast was not so easily defeated.
Even wounded, even weakened by Nagantara's light, it pursued them, tearing through the earth with unnatural speed.
The darkened woods swallowed them whole.
The handmaiden's breath came in sharp, ragged bursts.
She could not run forever.
She knew this.
And so, in a clearing surrounded by towering trees, she came to a halt.
She lowered Nagantara to the ground, her hands trembling as she cupped his face.
"Listen to me, my child."
Her voice was urgent, yet filled with love.
"You must protect yourself. If the beast comes, you must use your power."
Nagantara trembled.
"But I am afraid."
His voice was small.
Vulnerable.
The handmaiden's heart clenched, but her resolve did not waver.
She held his hands, warmth radiating from her touch.
"Do not fear."
She whispered, her forehead pressing against his.
"You are stronger than anything in this world."
The darkness stirred.
A heavy presence loomed beyond the trees.
And then—
A pair of burning eyes emerged from the shadows.
The creature had found them.
Its growl shook the earth, its form a mass of shifting shadow and fury.
It lunged.
But before it could reach them—
A blinding surge of blue energy exploded from Nagantara's back, crashing into the beast with unimaginable force.
The world shook with the impact.
The creature let out a final, piercing wail, its shadowed form unraveling, torn apart like smoke scattered by the wind.
And in the blink of an eye—
It was gone.
Nagantara collapsed.
His small form crumpled, exhaustion overtaking him.
The handmaiden rushed forward, gathering him into her arms, her eyes brimming with tears.
"You did it," she whispered, holding him close.
Her voice trembled.
"You protected us."
That night, the village fell into silence once more.
But the handmaiden knew—
They could not stay.
The beast had been defeated, but others would come.
The world had sensed Nagantara's presence, and soon, greater forces would rise to seek him out.
She gazed down at the sleeping child, her resolve hardening like tempered steel.
"We must leave."
Her voice was quiet, but absolute.
Nagantara stirred, opening his weary eyes.
He nodded slowly, though his mind could not yet fully grasp what lay ahead.
He only knew one thing—
Their journey had only just begun.