A Journey into Uncertainty

Dawn broke over the small village at the foot of Mount Mahameru, its golden light spilling across the rooftops and narrow pathways.

The morning air was crisp, yet within a small house at the village's edge, the atmosphere was heavy with tension.

The handmaiden sat upon the woven mat, her hands clutching a bundle of cloth, within which she had packed food and simple garments.

Her eyes were weary from the long night, but her resolve remained unshaken.

In the corner of the room, Nagantara sat in silence.

His knees drawn to his chest, his gaze distant.

Since the night before, since he had unleashed his power against the beast of the gods, he had not spoken much.

Guilt and uncertainty lingered in his silver-blue eyes.

At last, his voice, soft yet heavy with emotion, broke the silence.

"Mother… what happened yesterday… I did not want to hurt anyone."

The handmaiden paused, then rose from where she sat, kneeling before him.

She placed her hands upon his shoulders, steady, warm, comforting.

"You did not harm anyone, my child," she said, her voice gentle, filled with unwavering love.

"You protected us. You did what was necessary."

But Nagantara's gaze wavered, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"The people in the village… they fear me."

His voice broke slightly.

"Why do I always make them afraid?"

The handmaiden inhaled deeply, steadying her heart.

She wished she could tell him the world was kind.

That his power would be embraced, not feared.

But she knew better.

And so, she spoke the truth.

"They do not fear you, Nagantara."

She met his gaze, her own firm yet sorrowful.

"They fear what they do not understand."

Nagantara lowered his head, nodding slowly.

Yet the heaviness in his heart remained.

"Then what do we do now?"

His voice was small, uncertain.

The handmaiden's expression hardened with quiet determination.

"We must leave."

There was no doubt in her words.

"This village is no longer safe. If we remain, danger will continue to find us. And I will not allow that to happen."

Nagantara's eyes widened.

"Leave? But where will we go?"

His voice held a trace of fear, of the unknown.

"I do not know any other place."

A small, bittersweet smile touched the handmaiden's lips.

"Neither do I."

She brushed a gentle hand through his dark curls, the weight of her love pressing into her touch.

"But the world is vast, my child. And I believe we will find a place where you can live without fear."

As the sun climbed higher, they prepared to leave.

The handmaiden packed their few belongings, wrapping them tightly in the cloth bundle.

Nagantara stood at the door, gazing at the village one last time.

He saw the villagers moving about the market square, tending to their daily tasks.

Yet some paused, turning toward the small house at the village's edge.

Their expressions held suspicion, uncertainty.

Some, perhaps, held pity.

But none held welcome.

This had been his home.

Yet now, he knew—

He could not stay.

Their journey was just beginning.

"They will not miss us."

Nagantara's voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

The handmaiden stepped closer, placing a gentle yet steady hand upon his small shoulder.

"Perhaps not," she admitted. "But what matters now is keeping you safe. One day, they will understand who you truly are."

Nagantara nodded, though his gaze lingered upon the small house that had once been his home.

Then, with quiet resolve, he turned away—

And together, they stepped onto the narrow path leading into the forest, leaving behind the life they had known.

The morning breeze stirred the dew-laden leaves, carrying the scent of the wild earth, as though welcoming them into the world beyond.

As they walked, Nagantara glanced up at the handmaiden who led the way before him.

"Mother," he asked, his voice filled with quiet uncertainty, "Am I truly the child of prophecy?"

The handmaiden slowed, turning back to meet his gaze.

Her eyes were steady, yet there was warmth within them.

"Yes," she said. "You are."

But then, she knelt before him, her expression gentle but resolute.

"Yet prophecy is neither a curse nor a punishment. It is a path laid before you. And a path is something you must choose to walk yourself."

Nagantara frowned slightly.

"What does that mean?"

The handmaiden smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of his dark hair from his face.

"It means that no matter what the prophecy says, you have control over who you become.

You can choose to bring good into the world, even when the world is unkind."

Nagantara fell silent, pondering her words.

Then, after a moment, he nodded, his young face set with newfound determination.

"Then I want to bring good, Mother.

I do not want people to be afraid of me anymore."

A slow smile touched the handmaiden's lips, a quiet pride glistening in her eyes.

"You have already made the right choice, my child," she murmured.

"And I will always be here to help you find your way."

Their footsteps pressed lightly into the damp earth, the path ahead winding through the ancient slopes of Mount Mahameru.

Tall trees loomed on either side, their great roots twisting across the forest floor like sleeping serpents.

The morning sun filtered through the canopy, casting shifting patterns of gold and green upon the path.

Nagantara walked in silence for a time, his small hands brushing against the rough bark of passing trees.

Yet every so often, he would glance back, watching as the village disappeared from view—bit by bit, step by step.

Something stirred within him, something he could not yet name.

A mixture of sadness and curiosity.

The ache of leaving behind a home—

And the whisper of adventure calling ahead.

"Mother," he finally asked, breaking the stillness, "What lies beyond this place?"

The handmaiden paused, lifting her gaze toward the distant peaks of the mountain, where the mist curled like silver threads against the sky.

"A vast world," she said, her voice quiet yet full of meaning.

"Many lands, many people, and many wonders we have yet to see.

But also dangers, Nagantara. And you must always remain wary."

Nagantara nodded, though he did not fully understand what "danger" truly meant.

To him, the world felt vast and mysterious, yet it also held a beauty he had yet to comprehend.

For hours, they walked, their path winding through hills and valleys, until at last, they reached a meadow ablaze with wildflowers.

Blossoms of crimson, gold, and violet stretched toward the sky, swaying gently in the cool breeze.

Nagantara's eyes lit up.

"Look, Mother!"

He ran forward, his small hands brushing through the sea of petals.

The handmaiden smiled softly, watching as he basked in this moment of unburdened joy.

"Do you like this place?" she asked, stepping beside him.

"It is beautiful."

Nagantara dropped into the soft grass, plucking a delicate blue flower, twirling it between his fingers.

His smile was radiant—

Until he noticed something just beyond the blossoms.

A butterfly, fallen upon the earth.

Its wings torn, its frail body trembling.

Nagantara's heart clenched.

He turned to the handmaiden, his eyes filled with hope.

"Mother, it is hurt."

"Can we save it?"

The handmaiden knelt, studying the fragile creature.

Her voice was gentle, but her words carried a weight she wished he could understand.

"Not everything can be mended, Nagantara."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"Sometimes, nature follows its own path."

But before she could say more—

Nagantara lifted his hand.

A soft blue glow pulsed from his palm, flowing like a whisper toward the butterfly's broken wings.

The energy shimmered—

And in the span of a breath, the butterfly was whole again.

It fluttered upward, circling once around Nagantara, as if in gratitude, before vanishing into the golden light of the meadow.

The handmaiden was silent.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with unease.

"Nagantara."

Her voice was low—not angered, but warning.

"You must not use your power so freely. You know this."

Nagantara's brows knitted in confusion.

"But I only wanted to help."

His voice was small, uncertain.

"Was that wrong?"

The handmaiden exhaled deeply, kneeling before him.

She did not want to crush his kindness.

But she knew the truth.

Every time he used his power, his energy left a trail—a whisper upon the threads of the world.

And there were those who would follow it.

"No, my child."

She placed a hand upon his cheek, her eyes soft but firm.

"It was not wrong.

But the world is not yet ready to see what you can do."

"We must be careful."

Nagantara lowered his gaze, disappointment flickering in his eyes.

"I only wanted to help," he murmured again, his fingers brushing the petals at his feet.

The handmaiden closed her eyes, her heart heavy.

He would learn, in time.

As the sun dipped below the western horizon, the two travelers pressed onward.

The world grew darker, quieter, until at last, they found a small cave nestled against the mountainside.

It was sheltered, safe from the biting winds of the night.

The handmaiden gathered dry branches, striking a small flame.

The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls.

Nagantara sat close, his silver-blue eyes fixed upon the flickering embers, lost in thought.

Then, his voice broke the silence—

"Mother."

He turned to her, curiosity shining in his gaze.

"Why do I have this power?"

The handmaiden gazed at Nagantara, then slowly moved to sit beside him.

The firelight flickered, casting a warm glow upon their faces.

"Because you are the child of prophecy, Nagantara," she said softly.

"You possess a power greater than most can comprehend.

But with such power… comes a great responsibility."

Nagantara tilted his head, his young mind grasping at the weight of her words.

"What is responsibility?"

The handmaiden smiled, brushing a hand through his dark hair.

"It means that you must use your power for good, even when it is difficult.

And you must learn when to wield it… and when to keep it hidden."

Nagantara fell silent, turning her words over in his mind.

He was still too young to fully understand, yet something deep within him stirred—a quiet knowledge that this was important.

At last, he nodded.

"I will learn, Mother," he whispered.

"I want to be a good person."

The handmaiden's heart swelled with quiet pride.

She cupped his small hands in hers, her eyes filled with warmth.

"You are already good, my child," she said gently.

"And one day, the world will see it too."

Night deepened over the slopes of Mount Mahameru, the air turning crisp with the mountain's breath.

A soft wind curled through the mouth of the cave, stirring the dying embers of the fire.

Nagantara slept soundly, wrapped in a thin woven blanket, his small form rising and falling with each steady breath.

The handmaiden sat near the entrance, her eyes watchful as she gazed out into the velvet darkness.

The forest was alive, humming with its midnight chorus—

The chatter of insects, the rustle of hidden creatures, the distant murmur of a river.

Yet beneath these familiar sounds…

Something was wrong.

She stiffened.

Her ears strained, catching a rhythm out of place—

Heavy footfalls.

Pounding against the earth in unnatural cadence.

Her hand instinctively reached for the wooden staff she had fashioned as a meager weapon.

Her eyes narrowed, scanning the darkness beyond the trees.

She listened—

And there it was again.

The steps were closer now.

Accompanied by a low, rumbling growl.

Like that of a beast hunting its prey.

Her pulse quickened.

She turned swiftly, crouching beside Nagantara, placing a hand upon his small shoulder.

She shook him gently, yet urgently.

"Nagantara, wake up."

Her voice was a whisper, but it carried the urgency of a mother protecting her child.

The boy stirred, his silver-blue eyes fluttering open, heavy with sleep.

"What is it, Mother?"

His voice was drowsy, unaware of the danger creeping toward them.

"There is no time to explain."

Her arms tightened around him, lifting him swiftly into her embrace.

"Something is coming. We must leave now."

She stepped into the night, holding Nagantara close.

The crescent moon hung high above, its pale light painting the narrow mountain path before them.

She moved quickly, her steps silent against the earth—

But the footsteps behind them grew louder.

Faster.

And then—

From the shadowed trees—

A massive shape emerged.

Its form loomed, dark and shifting.

Its eyes burned like embers, locked onto them with a terrible hunger.

From the depths of the night, a creature emerged.

Its body was vast, towering like a great bear, yet its head bore the shape of a monstrous lizard.

Black scales shimmered under the moonlight, glistening like obsidian armor.

Its eyes burned red, smoldering like embers in the dark.

It snarled, the low growl rumbling through the trees, nostrils flaring as it searched for its prey.

The handmaiden's breath hitched.

Her fingers tightened around Nagantara.

"It is one of their hunters," she whispered, her voice taut with fear.

"They will not stop until they find us."

Nagantara clung to her, his small arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

"What do we do, Mother?"

His voice trembled.

Fear gripped his heart.

The handmaiden exhaled, steadying herself.

"We keep moving."

Her voice was calm, though inside, she knew the truth—

They could not outrun it forever.

"Do not stop, no matter what happens."

The ground trembled beneath them.

The beast surged forward, its powerful steps shaking the very earth beneath its weight.

The handmaiden ran, her breath coming in sharp gasps, her muscles screaming in protest.

Yet no matter how fast she moved—

The creature was faster.

It closed the distance between them, tearing through the trees like a shadow given form.

At last, upon a narrow mountain path, surrounded by towering trees—

The handmaiden halted.

She turned sharply, placing Nagantara behind her.

Then, with all the strength she had left, she raised her wooden staff, standing her ground.

"You will not touch him."

Her voice rang clear, defiant—though her hands trembled.

The creature bared its fangs, jagged and sharp as blades.

With a monstrous roar, it leaped—

Its claws slicing through the air toward her.

But before it could strike—

A blinding light erupted from behind her.

A pure, radiant blue.

The handmaiden turned, her eyes widening in awe—

Nagantara stood with his hands raised, his silver-blue gaze glowing like the stars themselves.

The mark of the dragon upon his back shone with a brilliance that rivaled the moon.

A barrier of energy surged around them, a shield woven from his very essence.

The creature collided against it, its massive body recoiling as though struck by an invisible force.

It snarled, its form quivering, struggling against the power that held it at bay.

"Go!"

Nagantara's voice thundered, far stronger than his years.

A pulse of raw energy burst from him—

And the creature screamed.

The force ripped through it, tearing its shadowed form apart.

The beast writhed, its body unraveling into tendrils of black smoke, dissolving into the wind—

And then—

It was gone.

The forest fell silent once more.

Nagantara collapsed to the ground, his small chest rising and falling in quick, labored breaths.

The handmaiden rushed to him, kneeling beside him, gathering him into her arms.

Her heart pounded, but her voice was soft with relief.

"You did it again."

Nagantara's eyes shimmered, his hands trembling.

"I didn't want to hurt them."

His voice broke, barely more than a whisper.

"But I had no choice."

The handmaiden stroked his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"You did no wrong, my child," she murmured.

"You protected us.

But the world will not stop testing you."

Nagantara nodded, though his body still trembled.

He knew—

Their journey had only just begun.

The world stretched vast and unknown before him, filled with dangers he could not yet comprehend.

But amidst the uncertainty, he knew one thing for certain—

He was not alone.

As long as the handmaiden stood beside him, as long as she guided him forward,

He believed he could face whatever lay ahead.