Kin of the Flame

Harshal stepped into Chitralekha's room, the door swinging wide on hinges that hadn't been oiled in years. His eyes found Usha first, standing near the window with her arms crossed in a way that suggested she'd been mid-argument before he'd even arrived.

"Hello, Usha."

Usha's expression shifted, quick and unguarded, and she turned to Chitralekha without lowering her voice at all. "He is cute."

Harshal let that pass without comment, his attention already moving to his sister. "So, sister. What have you decided? Are you going to sit on my chair?"

Chitralekha exhaled, long and put-upon, dropping onto the edge of her bed like the conversation itself was exhausting her. "Do I really have a choice? This Usha madam has been irritating me all morning, trying to make me say yes. And Father has ordered me to sit as well." She threw her hands up, just slightly. "I have to. I really don't have a choice."

"If you don't want to, you don't have to." Harshal leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing loose over his chest. "I can just make an earth clone of myself. Order him to sit instead. He won't be as strong as me — but he'll be exactly as wise as me."

Chitralekha's eyebrow lifted, unimpressed. "Why do you think you're wise?"

Harshal grinned and raised a hand, fingers curling inward as a low rumble rose from the floor beneath him. Earth split and folded upward, packed soil and stone gathering into a shape that mirrored his own — features rough at the edges but unmistakably his, down to the crooked set of the jaw.

"Wait, wait — let me just—" He gestured toward the golem, proud. "See? He's exactly the same as me."

He turned to it. "So. What's two plus four?"

The golem's voice came out low, grinding, like stone shifting against stone. "Six, master."

Chitralekha's arms uncrossed, something almost impressed flickering across her face. "This is smart."

"Okay, wait — watch this." Harshal folded his arms, satisfied. "Explain why this life loop will never end. For a mere human."

The golem's head tilted, considering, and then it began — low, grinding, methodical, the words rolling on in the background like something running on its own momentum. ...because a mere human measures an ending against a single life, and the loop does not answer to a single life... it answers to what remains unfinished, and what remains unfinished simply begins again, in another shape, under another name...

Usha leaned in close to Chitralekha, cupping a hand near her ear, voice dropped to a whisper. "He's not quite bright, is he?"

Chitralekha bit back a laugh, glancing sideways at her. "Which one — the master, or the copy?"

"Either." Usha's eyes flicked toward Harshal, still standing there with his arms crossed, watching his own creation talk with obvious pride. "Look at him. So proud of a rock that knows more than he does."

"At least the rock listens when told to sit," Chitralekha muttered.

Behind them, the golem's voice droned on, unbothered, still deep in ...what remains unfinished simply begins again...

"I don't know about being blinded by ego," Chitralekha said, turning back to Harshal. "But you are absolutely blinded by stupidity."

Usha let out a small giggle from her spot by the window, quickly pressing a hand over her mouth.

Harshal's eyes cut toward her. "Okay, just say—"

"Okay." Chitralekha cut him off before he could finish, raising a hand. "I'll take the seat." A pause, sharp and deliberate. "But you will have to obey every order I give."

Harshal's shoulders dropped, a tired look settling over his face. "Okay. Fine, sister."

"I have to leave again." Harshal straightened off the doorframe. "Take care of Meera."

Chitralekha rolled her eyes. "She can do that on her own."

"I know she can." Harshal's voice softened, just slightly. "What I'm saying is — she isn't one of your maidens anymore. She's my fiancée. So please, take care of her the same way you'd take care of me."

Usha's voice came soft from the window. "Why leave so early?"

Harshal turned toward her, a cute, easy smile breaking across his face. "Sorry. I have work I need to finish."

Usha's face fell, just slightly, the disappointment plain before she could smooth it over. "Really?"

Chitralekha's expression soured, annoyance flashing across it fast, and she planted both hands against his back, shoving him toward the door. "Just be back fast."

Outside the room, Harshal wiped the sweat from his brow, exhaling slow. "Okay. Finally, one work is done." He rolled his shoulders, already moving. "Now for the other."

He passed from one corridor into the next, the lamps along the walls flaring to life behind him as he went, catching one after another in a slow, quiet chain of light. The corridor opened ahead into the one with the balcony, afternoon sun spilling thin through its archway.

He barely registered the shift in the air before it happened — a fireball tearing through the corridor, catching him full in the chest before he could react.

The impact drove the breath from his lungs, heat searing against his skin, and a voice rode in on the flame itself, low and amused.

"So the rumors are true." The fire coiled tighter around him. "You have all three things to rule the Greek and Norse gods."

Harshal's throat tightened around the fire still gripping him. "Who are you?" he choked out. "Show yourself."

The flame folded inward, condensing, reshaping itself into a figure standing at the corridor's center — sharp-featured, cloaked in red, something mischievous already sitting behind his eyes.

Harshal squinted through the smoke. "Hey — Loki?"

"What." The figure's voice went flat, offended in an instant. "Loki?"

"You're Loki, right?"

"No." The word came out sharp, almost personally wounded. "I am Logi. God of fire."

Logi let go of Harshal's throat entirely, stepping back, gesturing at himself with open disgust. "Do I really look like that bastard? I am an old god, man. My clothes are red — red, for All-Father's sake."

Harshal gasped, dragging air back into his lungs. "Sorry. It's just — your names match. All of it."

"Yeah." Logi exhaled, something between annoyance and resignation. "I get that a lot." He tilted his head. "Wait a minute—"

Before he could finish, Harshal's hand shot up, calling his blade from the air. His eyes went black, pupil to iris to white all swallowed at once, and one of them ignited a heartbeat later, the same flame Logi carried now burning cold and dark in Harshal's own socket.

"So, god of fire." A slow, humorless smile crossed his face. "Let's see who wins."

Logi's grin turned devious, unbothered by the threat. "Oh, sure." He spread his hands, almost welcoming it. "God of what, exactly, are you, kid?"

Black flame caught along the edge of his clothes before he could get anything else out, spreading fast, devouring red in seconds — and in the same instant, the air folded around him, and he was simply gone, pulled somewhere else entirely, the fire vanishing with him rather than consuming him.