Chapter 12: The One Who Failed

The forest had not moved since their encounter with the Valmīkra, but something in the air had changed. The breeze carried the scent of vetiver roots and burnt offerings, as if someone had lit a havan somewhere in the jungle's depths.

Adityaveer noticed it first. As they walked, his system pinged lightly—nothing dangerous, but… off.

[Atmospheric Signature: Residual Tapovan Ash – 73% match]

[Unclassified presence detected within 2.1 km]

[Pulse trail begins at next left fork]

He turned his head slightly toward Advika, who had just finished drawing an energy ward on her arm—one of the new mobile glyphs she'd learned to carry into battle.

"There's someone ahead," he said.

She nodded. "Another seeker?"

He hesitated. "I don't think so."

They changed course, guided by the pulse trail. The deeper they walked, the more unnatural the surroundings became. Vines twisted into knots resembling Sanskrit mantras. Stones bore scorch marks in shapes that felt almost deliberate, like fire had once been commanded to write with purpose.

Finally, they found the source.

A small hermitage stood in a hollow beneath a triple-canopy tree, the kind only mentioned in ancient texts. The hut was made of fused bark and bones—neither repulsive nor savage, but arranged with a deliberate sacredness. Tiny yantras hung from the eaves, gently turning in the breeze.

A man sat outside.

He looked no older than thirty. Bare-chested, robes made of woven ash leaves, eyes closed in meditation. But something about his presence pressed down on the air, like gravity had become heavier around him.

He opened his eyes before they could speak.

"I've been waiting for you."

They stood in silence, unsure whether to bow or prepare for combat.

The man smiled slightly. "Not everything that waits in Tapovan wants to devour you, you know."

Advika tilted her head. "But everything that speaks in riddles usually does."

He chuckled. "You're sharper than the last ones."

Adityaveer stepped forward. "Who are you?"

The man's expression grew distant. "Once, I was called Ratriya. A seeker like you. System-bound. Trained in Gurukul. Entered the forest with confidence."

He turned his gaze toward the canopy. "That was twenty-four years ago."

Adityaveer exchanged a glance with Advika.

"You don't look a day over thirty," she said slowly.

Ratriya smiled faintly. "Time in Tapovan… bends. Especially if you fail."

"Fail what?" Adityaveer asked.

Ratriya's eyes sharpened. "The final calling."

—

They sat around a fire he built with a single gesture—no flint, no chant. Just intention.

Ratriya served them a thick herbal paste on leaves. Bitter, grounding. Their systems scanned it instantly:

[Ingredients: Haritaki, Ashwagandha root, Soma residue – safe]

As they ate, he told them his story.

"I entered Tapovan as you did. Confident. Connected. In sync with my partner."

"You had a partner?" Advika asked.

"Yes. Her name was Divyana. We were bonded the way you are. Two sides of the same current."

His fingers traced a glyph in the air—one unlike any they had seen.

"She was a cultivator of the wind. I was a manipulator of flame. Together, we could melt through illusions, call storms to strike, even open portals between tree rings."

He paused.

"And we failed."

A silence fell over the camp.

Adityaveer leaned in. "What happened?"

Ratriya's voice grew quieter. "We encountered something… ancient. Not a beast. Not a rishi. A guardian."

He closed his eyes, remembering.

"It said we had been chosen. Not by the forest—but by the battlefield universe itself."

At that, Adityaveer and Advika both went still.

He continued. "It offered us power—direct access to omniversal fragments. But only if one of us stepped through a gate. Alone."

Advika's hand curled into a fist. "A test of betrayal."

He nodded. "She went."

Adityaveer asked, "Did she return?"

Ratriya's eyes darkened. "No."

There was a long pause.

"I stayed behind, thinking I had made the noble choice. That loyalty meant something. That she would survive, and we would prove them wrong. But the gate sealed."

"And you were left here?" Adityaveer asked.

"Worse. I was bound here. The forest refused to let me leave. Said I had failed—not because I chose loyalty, but because I let fear guide my decision."

Advika's voice was cold. "They punished you for not abandoning her?"

Ratriya looked up. "No. They punished me for not trusting her to survive it."

The fire crackled between them.

"You're not the only ones being shaped," he said. "This forest is not preparing warriors. It's preparing shapers of fate."

Adityaveer's system chimed quietly.

[Cross-verification confirmed: Subject Ratriya – Former Candidate: Battlefield Gate]

[DNA lock recognized – anomaly tether detected]

He looked up. "He's telling the truth."

Ratriya gestured to the trees. "This place is littered with the echoes of those who failed. Some became beasts. Some became echoes. I chose stillness."

"Why are you helping us?" Advika asked.

He smiled again, this time softer. "Because you remind me of us. And because you've already done what we couldn't."

Adityaveer tilted his head. "What's that?"

"You're already preparing to leave this forest—not through victory. But through evolution."

—

Before they left, Ratriya gave them a gift.

A folded scroll, sealed with bark-wax.

"Inside is a map of a forgotten temple," he said. "It holds a relic—a memory stone from before the battlefield split the omniverses."

Advika's breath caught.

"That's not just myth?"

He met her gaze. "You'll need it. Soon."

They bowed.

As they walked away, Ratriya said one last thing.

"When the forest tests you next, it won't come in the form of fangs or fire."

"What then?" Adityaveer asked.

Ratriya smiled. "It will offer you what you desire most."

They left in silence, scroll tight in Advika's hand, the weight of destiny heavier than ever.

And as they disappeared into the trees, Ratriya whispered:

"Let them do what we could not."