Chapter 14 A Flower and Bended Knees
The city held its breath beneath a bruised purple twilight. Kiyan moved through it like a phantom his footsteps silent on the damp pavement. A single question pulsed in time with his heartbeat a mantra of pain Aarav why are you erasing me. What do you know. What have I become to you.
His feet acting on a desperate magnetic pull carried him to the familiar lane to the hostel. He paused beneath the ancient Akshay Vriksh (immortal banyan tree) its roots gnarled like old veins. Aarav's window was dark. Not the soft dark of sleep but the hollow blank dark of absence. The curtains were still no crack of light beneath the door visible from the street.
A cold fist tightened in Kiyan's chest. He drifted to the rusted iron gate. A heavy padlock hung from the chain glinting dully in the distant streetlamp's glow. Other windows in the building were alive yellow squares of light the silhouettes of students moving the muffled bass of music. But Aarav's room was a void. A locked silence.
He began to pace. A slow predatory circuit of the block each loop bringing him back to the sight of that padlock. His golden eyes usually so vivid seemed to dim reflecting the emptiness he saw. Where are you. Are you hurt. Has something taken you.
Defeated the urban jungle spit him out onto the ragged border where the city frayed into wilderness. Above the same black crow circled a ragged piece of the night itself a silent witness to a loneliness older than the crumbling buildings.
Kiyan sank to the dewy grass the earth cool and forgiving. He lay back one arm crooked behind his head one knee bent towards the star pricked sky. The constellations were the same ones that had watched his Chhayagrasini (a witch like entity who drains age and life force) mother weep the same ones that had witnessed his first stolen breath. Ma the word was a torn thing ripped from a place deep and scarred. Where are you now.
A single tear heavy with centuries of solitude welled in the corner of his eye. It trembled for a moment catching a sliver of starlight then fell. It traced a path through the dust on his temple and vanished into the earth a secret offering to the uncaring soil.
In his locked room Aarav jolted awake from a dreamless sleep. He was on his back staring at the ceiling's familiar cracks. A sudden inexplicable heat spilled from the corner of his eye tracing a scalding path down his temple into his hairline.
He sat up confused. His fingers came away wet. He stumbled to the small mirror nailed to the wall. In the gloom his own reflection stared back one eye clear the other with a single perfect tear track gleaming on his skin.
He swiped at it angrily. I am not crying. I did not even feel sad. But his heart was a frantic bird trapped in the cage of his ribs beating against bones that felt too thin. A profound nameless ache hollowed out his chest. What is this. Why does it hurt so much for no reason.
His gaze dropped to his wrist. The Aadisrashta Chakra (divine discus of the creator) mark was no longer just visible. It was alive. A soft internal luminescence pulsed within the intricate lines a gentle rhythmic warmth that radiated up his forearm. He touched it tentatively.
The name escaped him on a whispered breath unbidden a truth spoken to the empty dark. Kiyan.
He staggered back to his bed the phantom tear and the glowing mark conspiring against his sanity. He fumbled in his bag his hands finding the familiar weight of the wooden bound book. Kalprant Ka Rahasya. He opened it the pages whispering secrets in the quiet.
He found the section The Secret of Nachiketa. The text was a cold balm explaining the heat in his wrist.
The Chhayagrasini after consuming Raja Manikya The young Yuvaraj (crown prince) hidden The power passed down A Devanshik (a divinely blessed one who wields divine power) abilities are for protection. But when the wielder is conflicted untrained the power can become unstable a danger to themselves and others. It reacts. It feels. It connects.
He read of the warning that a Devanshik awakening is slow unpredictable. That it can cause unintended pain.
The book fell from his hands. I am a Devanshik. A descendant of the king she killed. And Kiyan what is he. The eyes that turn to molten gold. The speed that defies physics. The way he appears and vanishes. The pieces horrifying and beautiful clicked into a terrible mosaic.
His hands shook. He went to the sink splashed water on his face. The glass in his hand felt alien. He remembered another glass pushed towards him in a noisy canteen. A steady hand on his back circling anchoring him through a coughing fit. A silent care that spoke volumes.
He set the glass down the memory a physical ache. He lay back down staring at the ceiling until exhaustion heavier than any truth dragged him under.
The shriek of his alarm was a violence at 6 AM. Aarav moved through his morning routine by rote shower dress stare at his reflection now just tired eyes and pale skin the strange tear gone. Needing air he escaped his room wandering into the hostel's neglected garden.
Aarav
The voice was a familiar anchor. He turned. Arushi his elder sister stood there her arms already opening.
A genuine smile broke through his fog as he stepped into her hug. Didi. You are here.
When did you get back she asked patting his back.
Last night. Missed you.
Good. But you are not thinking of hiding in this hostel again are you. Leaving our perfectly good empty house.
No I will not he said the promise easy.
Good. Now breakfast. Pushpa Didi has made aloo parathas.
The familiar scent of home ghee cumin warmth filled the dining room. Pushpa Didi the family's longtime helper bustled in with a stack of hot parathas. Arre Aarav Baba. You are here. How are you.
I am fine Didi. You.
All is well. She began serving.
Sit and eat with us Didi Aarav said the old habit returning.
Oh no Baba I work in your house I cannot
Please Didi Arushi chimed in smiling. Just today.
Pushpa Didi's face softened and she took a seat the simple act weaving a thread of normalcy through the morning.
By eight Aarav was preparing to leave. Arushi caught his arm at the door. Wait. Talk to me. What is wrong. Why the sudden hostel visit.
Nothing Didi. Really.
On my life Aarav.
It is nothing he insisted the lie brittle. I am late for college.
He pulled away the warmth of home already receding as he kicked his bike to life the engine's roar a welcome barrier against questions.
The college gates loomed. His eyes trained by a new painful habit went immediately to the spot. The neem tree.
And there he was.
Kiyan.
Aarav's breath hitched. He cut the engine swung off his bike and began to walk his eyes fixed straight ahead building a wall of indifference with every step.
Then movement.
Kiyan stepped away from the tree. Not towards him aggressively but into his path a deliberate calm interception.
Aarav forced himself to stop to look at him ready for a confrontation for more silent accusatory stares.
What happened next froze the very air in Aarav's lungs.
Kiyan his gaze never leaving Aarav's face slowly lowered himself. Not a stumble not a collapse. A deliberate graceful descent until his knees touched the dusty ground of the college pathway. He knelt.
A shockwave of silence rippled outwards. The chatter of students heading to class died mid sentence. A cycle bell stopped ringing. The world narrowed to this patch of earth under the neem tree.
Kiyan bowed his head for a moment a gesture of profound humility. Then he raised it and in his hands which did not tremble he held a single flawless Safed Ketaki (white Ketaki flower). The early sun caught the dewdrops clinging to its petals making each one a tiny trembling prism.
He lifted the flower an offering.
When his eyes met Aarav's they were not fierce not glowing with power. They were clear deep pools of liquid gold and they were filled with tears. Not of anger or pain but of a raw unbearable vulnerability. They held a universe of unspoken words an apology a plea a confession a surrender.
He said nothing. He did not need to. Every silent centuries old ache every moment of fearful rejection every flicker of their inexplicable connection was there in the offering of the flower in the bend of his knees in the tears that magnified the ancient light in his eyes.
Aarav stood paralyzed. The noise of the campus the staring eyes the weight of his own legacy it all dissolved into a white hum. All that existed was the boy on his knees the perfect white flower and the terrifying beautiful truth blooming between them as fragile and as potent as the petals trembling in the morning breeze.
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