The Weight of Survival

Pain came first.Not the sharp kind that screamed, but the deep, stubborn ache that settled into bone and refused to leave. Kedar became aware of it slowly, as if his body were reminding him—one sensation at a time—that he was still alive.His eyes opened to dim firelight.Wooden beams above him. The familiar scent of incense and herbs. The steady crackle of a hearth somewhere nearby.An ashram.He tried to move.Failed.Every muscle protested. His Fire Prana responded weakly, flickering like a candle struggling against wind.“So you’re awake.”Guru Parshu’s voice came from the shadows.Kedar turned his head with effort. The old sage sat cross-legged near the fire, staff resting across his knees, eyes closed as if in meditation. Only his presence—solid and unmoving—kept the room from feeling empty.“How long?” Kedar asked, his throat raw.“Two days,” Parshu replied. “Longer than you’d have liked. Shorter than you deserved.”Kedar closed his eyes.Images flooded back—the wings, the pressure, the effortless way his strength had been crushed. The calm voice that had called him weak. The way the sky itself had obeyed another’s will.“I lost,” Kedar said quietly.Parshu didn’t answer.“I wasn’t even close,” Kedar continued. “He didn’t fight me seriously. He just… tested me.”“That,” Parshu said, opening his eyes, “is often worse than death.”Kedar swallowed. “He spared me.”The words tasted bitter.Parshu studied him for a long moment. “Being spared can either break a warrior—or reshape him.”Silence settled between them.Outside, wind passed gently through the trees. No storms. No wings.Kedar turned his gaze to the ceiling. “Shakti and Aryan.”“Alive,” Parshu said immediately.Kedar exhaled, relief and guilt colliding in his chest.“But not free,” Parshu added.The fire cracked sharply.Kedar’s fists tightened against the bedding. “Then why am I lying here?”“Because if you had chased him in that state,” Parshu said, “you would have died.”Kedar said nothing.Parshu rose and approached the bed. From within his robes, he produced two objects wrapped in cloth. He placed them gently beside Kedar’s hand.Daggers.Simple in shape, but heavy with intent. One bore faint ember-like patterns along its blade. The other shimmered subtly, as if light bent around it.“Your Fire Prana,” Parshu said, “runs wild. Powerful, yes—but unchecked. It consumes you faster than your enemies.”Kedar stared at the blades.“These will help you learn restraint,” Parshu continued. “Not weapons of killing. Anchors of flow.”Kedar frowned. “Flow?”Parshu’s gaze sharpened. “Fire destroys. But without flow, it destroys its bearer first.”Kedar turned his head away. “Then teach me.”Parshu shook his head.“Not here.”Kedar looked back sharply. “What?”“The one who defeated you,” Parshu said, “walks a path of wind and flame. To face him again, you need more than stronger fire.”Parshu lifted his staff and tapped it once against the stone floor.“Water.”The word echoed in the room.Kedar stiffened. “I can’t—”“You can,” Parshu interrupted. “You simply haven’t listened.”He turned toward the doorway. “There is a place where fire learns patience and water learns resolve.”Kedar already knew the name.“Varuna Temple,” he whispered.Parshu paused. “You will not be welcomed.”“I wasn’t spared to be comfortable,” Kedar replied.The sage studied him—really studied him—then nodded once.“Rest today,” Parshu said. “Tomorrow, we begin the journey.”As Parshu left, Kedar reached for the daggers. The moment his fingers closed around them, something subtle shifted inside him.Fire stirred.But this time, it didn’t rage.It waited.Outside, far beyond the mountains, the wind shifted—just slightly—as if the sky itself had taken notice.
To be continued........