The next morning, Savignya stood outside Rohak's modest shop. The narrow lane was just beginning to stir—merchants arranging wares, sleepy-eyed boys fetching water. Rohak was already waiting, a small satchel slung over his shoulder. His eyes were heavy, but there was no protest in them.
"Good," Savignya said, her voice steady. She mounted her horse. "Get a horse. Follow me."
Rohak obeyed. He had barely slept—torn between the threat of Rankriti's castle and the harsher certainty of Savignya's wrath. There was no room for debate now. He mounted and rode behind her.
They traveled in silence. They reached the outer gate of the castle. Grim-faced guards stepped forward.
Savignya handed them a sealed scroll—official permission to enter. The guards examined the seal, nodded, and began their inspection. Rohak tensed as they patted him down. For a moment, he feared recognition—not as a squire, but as a whisperer. But no alarm was raised.
"You may proceed," one guard said.
They passed through the gates into the castle compound and made their way to the main hall. The grand corridor stretched wide, its stone walls draped with banners of dark green and gold—Rankriti's colors. The high ceiling arched toward the sky, with faint rays of light filtering through latticed windows above.
Two guards joined them, escorting them to a lift chamber. Rohak blinked at the mechanism: a massive wooden platform hoisted by chains, powered by silent slaves turning great cranks in unison. The platform groaned as it rose.
Rohak tried not to gape. He had seen castles before—but this was different. Every stone whispered power. Every flickering torch cast shadows that moved like ghosts of fallen warlords.
At the fifth floor, the lift stopped. The doors opened.
A long corridor lay ahead—and at the far end, Trishan waited.
Rohak's stomach clenched. He had never seen a Kaalrath this close before—let alone Trishan. Tall, broad, almost statuesque, Trishan radiated the quiet menace of a sheathed blade. His cold eyes fell on Rohak.
Rohak instinctively stepped back.
Trishan said nothing. The corner of his mouth twitched—almost amused.
He turned and motioned them forward. "Come. Let's talk."
Inside, a massive desk sat near the center—black oak, polished to a mirror sheen. A throne befitting Trishan: secretary of state, shadow of Rankriti's rule.
Savignya took the seat opposite him. Rohak stood behind her, trying to fade into the walls.
"Savignya," Trishan began, leaning back, "I've told you—there's nothing to be done about Arya. His transition is nearly complete."
"Transition," Savignya repeated, like tasting venom. "You keep using that word. What does it mean?"
Trishan exhaled. "It means he's no longer what he was. No longer your Arya. No longer the boy who came here with rebellion and conviction. The transformation is physical and mental."
"Explain."
"Physically, the training is brutal. Combat drills. Starvation cycles. Sensory deprivation. The body is broken, reshaped, hardened."
"And mentally?"
"That's the true transition," Trishan said. "Loyalty. Identity. All stripped away. They stop seeing themselves as individuals. They become tools—extensions of Vayodhara."
Savignya's voice was cold. "And Arya's task to complete this so-called transition?"
Trishan's fingers tapped lightly on the desk. "He was ordered to eliminate Pulastya's informants."
Silence.
"Informants?" Savignya asked, her voice low.
"A village was identified. He was sent in. Over three hundred executed. Men. Women. Possibly children. He returned alone. Soaked in blood. He didn't speak for hours. Just stared. Unrecognizable."
Rohak shifted. His face went pale. He had spread whispers of bloodbaths before—when it served his masters. But this? Arya?
Savignya's hands curled into fists. Not just at the number. But the name—Pulastya. That changed everything.
"Why Pulastya?" she asked.
"Vayodhara suspected a leak. Pulastya's agents were seen near the border."
"And Arya was your weapon."
"No," Trishan said quietly. "He was theirs. Vayodhara chose him. I only facilitated."
Savignya leaned back slightly, thinking.
Behind her, Rohak swallowed. He wanted to ask, What now? But he knew better. He was just a squire. He was supposed to be silent.
"Where is Arya now?" Savignya asked.
"He is in his room. There are guards outside."
"Can I see him?"
Trishan shook his head. "You'd need Vayodhara's clearance. And even if you had it, you may not want to. He may not recognize you."
She stood. "We'll see."
Trishan raised an eyebrow. "You still think you can pull him back?"
"If I don't try," she said, "I will never know."
She turned and left. Rohak followed, his steps unsure. He didn't speak until they reached the corridor.
"Three hundred," he whispered. "Savignya... how could he do that?"
She didn't stop to answer. She just kept moving towards his room.