CHAPTER 67 The Thread of Relationships and the Resolve of Pawangadh
The air at the main gate of Prakashgadh was a little heavy today. A sad warmth mixed in the morning cold, as if the touch of farewell. The elephant head carving on the huge gate was shining silently today, its metal carving drawing gold like lines in the sun rays. The chariot was ready. Four white horses with flowers woven in their manes, leather covers on wooden wheels, and above, a flag with the symbol of Pawangadh. A flying eagle.
Anvay had placed his luggage on the chariot. On his shoulders was a simple brown woolen cloak, with light green embroidery on its edges. The color of Pawangadh. His eyes kept rising toward the windows of the palace, as if some hidden hope was urging him to find something there.
He will not come, Anvay.
Agni came from behind and stood placing his hand on his shoulder. Agni had worn a simple red tunic today, without any jewelry, just a simple belt at the waist. There was mischief in his voice, but pride for Anvay in his eyes. The pride a guru feels seeing his mature disciple.
Anvay smiled, a tired smile. I know, Acharya. He does not want to look weak by crying while seeing off his older brother.
Just then, a noise came from the palace stairs. Nirag was running, an old plate in his hand with curd and sugar on it. He was panting, his hair disheveled, and he had worn a simple white kurta pajama that had not been properly ironed yet.
Wait, Anvay, wait, Nirag said, catching his breath. He placed the plate in front of Anvay. Curd and sugar are necessary before any auspicious work. Mother Dharaaya always said that.
Seeing the childhood in Nirag eyes, Anvay heart filled up. He tasted the curd. Cold, sweet, like home. And hugged Nirag tightly. The fragrance of freshly washed clothes came from Nirag clothes, and the scent of after bath in his hair.
Nirag, listen, Anvay whispered in his ear, his voice becoming a whisper. Now you are the crown prince here. Acharya Agni and Neer are now growing old, take care of them. And remember, Pawangadh is always open for you. If ever you feel the burden is too much, just send a message.
Nirag separated from Anvay and looked into his eyes. Anvay, you held me together when I was in the black shadow of Andhak Void. You forgot your own home because of me. I promise, I will never let your head bow.
Nirag took out a small dagger from his waist with the symbol of Agneer on it. A flame surrounded by water. This is my childhood token. Keep it with you. Whenever you see it, you will remember that your friend is sitting in Prakashgadh praying for your well being.
Anvay took that dagger. Light, shining, with an old wooden handle in its hilt. He pressed it to his chest, the cold metal touch touching his skin. Thank you, Nirag.
Neer came and stood placing his hand on both their heads. He had worn a simple blue garment today, just a light shawl on his shoulder. The love between two friends is the real element of this world. Go, Anvay, Pawangadh is waiting for you.
Anvay sat on the chariot. The chariot slowly began to move, the creaking of wheels echoing in the air. Nirag stood there, sleeves of his white kurta tied, until the chariot disappeared in the dust. His back was straight, but eyes wet.
Shall we, Neer asked, a gentle encouragement in his voice.
Nirag took a long breath, pulled his shoulders back, and stood with his chest out. Yes, Acharya Neer. Now let us start the work.
Inside the chariot, Anvay was looking at that dagger. He looked out the window where the borders of Pawangadh were beginning. Green fields, tall trees, and in the distance, the blue shapes of mountains. The people there were waiting for their prince. Anvay gripped his sword. An ordinary, but strong sword with the symbol of Pawangadh carved on its hilt. He closed his eyes. Only one thought in his mind. To make his parents kingdom heaven again.
That night, when Anvay reached the palace of Pawangadh, the blood marks on the walls there had been cleaned, but sorrow was still floating in the air. A heavy, silently crying sorrow. In the courtyard of the palace, there was a huge peepal tree, at the roots of which two lamps were burning in memory of Dharaaya and Vayansh.
Anvay stood in the middle of the palace and said, his voice echoing throughout the courtyard. People of Pawangadh. Your son has returned.
His voice had a sharpness that had been missing for years. He raised his hand, his fingers pointing toward the sky. Now there will be no sorrow here, only justice. Every tear will be accounted for. Every scream will be answered.
Throughout the city, cheers of Long live Maharaj Anvay echoed. In the distance, sitting in Prakashgadh, Nirag was probably feeling that echo from his heart. He looked out the window of his room, in the direction of Pawangadh, and smiled softly.
Inside the palace, Anvay joined his hands in front of his parents portraits. Dust of travel was on his clothes, but a new resolve was shining in his eyes. He had promised. And Anvay never broke his promises.
In the moonlit night, two kingdoms, two friends, and a promise that could defeat even distance.
© 2026 Aaryaveda All rights reserved
Do not copy or repost without permission