Road of Still Water

The journey began before sunrise.
Mist clung low to the ground as Kedar followed Guru Parshu down the narrow mountain path. The world felt hushed, as if even the birds were unsure whether they were allowed to sing.
Each step sent a dull ache through Kedar’s body.
Not pain—healing pain. The kind that reminded him he had been broken and put back together imperfectly.
Parshu walked ahead without hurry, his staff tapping stone at a steady rhythm. He did not speak. He rarely did when the road itself had something to teach.
Kedar focused on his breathing.
In.Out.
Fire Prana stirred faintly within him, eager, restless—but the daggers at his sides grounded it. The sensation was strange. Fire that didn’t leap. Heat that didn’t burn.
By midday, the terrain shifted.
Pine forests thinned into rolling hills. Streams carved silver lines through the earth, their murmurs constant and calming. Kedar found himself slowing his pace unconsciously, matching the water’s rhythm.
“You’re listening,” Parshu said without turning.
Kedar blinked. “To what?”
“The silence between motion,” Parshu replied. “Water moves constantly, yet never rushes.”
They camped beside a river that night.
Kedar sat on a smooth stone, feet submerged in the cold current. He winced at first, then relaxed. The water wrapped around him without resistance—cool, accepting.
He closed his eyes.
For the first time since the battle, he didn’t see wings.
Instead, he felt pressure—not crushing, but encompassing. Water pressed evenly against his skin, holding him without harm.
A flicker stirred deep within his prana core.
Different from fire.
Quieter.
Uncertain.
Kedar’s breath hitched.
He opened his eyes.
Nothing visible had changed. But something inside him had shifted—like a door left ajar.
Parshu watched from the shore, saying nothing.

---
Echoes on the Road
Days passed.
They crossed forests where sunlight filtered through leaves like broken glass. Traversed valleys where wind whistled through stone arches, sometimes carrying shapes that made Kedar’s pulse quicken.
Once, high above a cliffside, clouds formed a brief silhouette of wings.
Kedar froze.
Parshu’s staff tapped the ground sharply. “Focus.”
The shape dissolved.
“He’s watching,” Kedar said quietly.
Parshu did not deny it. “A predator observes before it hunts. Or before it waits.”
That night, Kedar dreamed.
He stood in shallow water, flames licking harmlessly across its surface. No steam rose. Fire and water existed side by side, neither consuming the other.
When he reached down to touch the water, it rippled outward, forming a path.
He woke before dawn, heart racing.
The daggers at his sides felt heavier.

---
The First Test
On the seventh day, Parshu stopped abruptly.
Ahead, the road narrowed into a gorge. A waterfall thundered down the cliff face, its spray filling the air with mist.
“You will cross,” Parshu said.
Kedar stared. The path was slick, narrow, and exposed. One misstep meant being swept away.
“I could burn a path,” Kedar suggested.
Parshu shook his head. “Fire solves. Water survives.”
Kedar swallowed and stepped forward.
Halfway across, his foot slipped.
Instinct flared.
Fire surged—then faltered as the daggers pulled it back. Panic clenched his chest.
The roar of water drowned his thoughts.
“Breathe,” Parshu’s voice cut through the chaos.
Kedar forced himself to inhale. He felt the water press against him, not as an enemy, but as a force to move with.
He adjusted his stance.
Let the water guide.
Step by step, he crossed.
When he reached the other side, his legs trembled—not from fear, but from understanding.
Parshu allowed himself a small nod.

---
Varuna’s Shadow
By dusk, the air changed.
Salt tinged the breeze. The distant roar of the sea echoed faintly through the hills. Ahead, ancient stone structures emerged from the mist—weathered pillars, broken steps, and beyond them, a temple carved into the mountainside.
Varuna Temple.
Water cascaded down its walls like living veins.
Kedar felt it then—a deep, steady presence, vast and patient.
Parshu stopped at the threshold.
“From here,” he said, “you walk alone.”
Kedar looked at the temple, then back at his teacher. “What if he refuses me?”
Parshu met his gaze. “Then you learn why.”
Kedar tightened his grip on the daggers and stepped forward.
Behind him, the wind shifted—high, distant, watching.  
To be continued.......