Rohak stayed within the castle walls, his eyes were watchful. He was supposed to be assisting Lord Trishan, but his attention remained fixed on Arya. Yet Arya spoke not a word to him. Each day, he vanished for hours, returning only to train—silent, focused, and distant. Rohak tried to follow him, tried to uncover where he went, but Arya always slipped away, as if the walls of the castle themselves were hiding him.
Vayodhara noticed. She missed nothing. Arya's every move, every breath, every flicker of emotion was under her cold, unwavering gaze. Tasks were assigned to Arya—different ones every day. Rohak believed it was some form of conditioning, testing. But for what, he couldn't say. Every attempt to track Arya led to a dead end, the trail growing cold just as quickly as it began.
Then one night, it happened.
Rohak found himself wandering through a shadowy corridor behind the castle. It was old, damp, and carved deep into the stone—more dungeon than hallway. The torches along the walls flickered faintly, barely enough to light the path. He didn't know what pulled him there, but something felt wrong.
And then, in the silence, he saw him.
Arya sat on the cold stone floor, head in his blood-soaked hands. His arms trembled. Blood covered him entirely—his hands, his chest, his face—it dripped from him. Rohak froze.
Arya lifted his head slowly, and their eyes met.
Rohak recoiled. What stared back at him was not Arya—it was something else. A dark, inhuman glint flickered in his eyes. There was no warmth, no recognition—only bloodlust. Arya's hand rose, trembling, reaching out as though straining against something unseen.
"Please help me, Rohak," Arya whispered, his voice cracked and barely audible. "I don't want to do this anymore."
Rohak's feet refused to move. Arya looked broken—exhausted, terrified, disgusted by himself. Rohak took a hesitant step forward.
Arya's body swayed as if about to collapse. Rohak hurried and reached out, helping him rise. He felt Arya's weight, how unsteady he was. Step by step, they moved together toward the entrance of the corridor.
But as they neared the end, something shifted.
Arya's body stiffened. His breathing changed. Rohak looked up—and the eyes that stared back at him now were not the same.
Gone was the pleading, the fatigue. In its place returned the monster.
Without warning, Arya grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Rohak gasped, his neck caught in a crushing chokehold. He struggled, clawing at Arya's arm, kicking at the air.
A voice, calm and terrifying, echoed across the dungeon entrance.
"Not him. Go and clean yourself. You need rest."
Arya's grip loosened immediately. He stepped back as though commanded by something greater. Rohak collapsed, coughing violently, his vision swimming. He didn't wait. He ran.
He didn't look back.
He burst into the castle's grand hall, panting, gasping for breath. The torchlight made his pale face shine with sweat. He leaned against the wall, trying to steady himself.
A sound behind him.
He turned and saw her descending the stairs—Vayodhara.
Graceful, composed, she moved like falling silk. But the eyes were as sharp as a hawk's.
"I have never seen you inside the castle before," she said. "You came with Savignya, and stayed. I have seen you follow Arya. Why?"
Rohak swallowed.
"I... I am here to assist Lord Trishan. Lady Savignya lent me to him for a few weeks," he stammered. "I've seen Arya before, back in Yamsabha. I was curious, my lady. I meant no harm. I only wanted to speak with him. But... he doesn't seem to recognize me."
Her eyes did not blink. "So, you are just curious, then?"
"Yes, my lady," he said quickly. "It was foolish of me. I will not follow him again."
He began to step away.
"Did I give you leave to go?"
Rohak froze. His heart thudded in his ears. He turned slowly.
Vayodhara descended the last few steps and walked toward him. Her eyes never left his. She stopped inches from him.
"From now on," she said, "you will stay close to me. You serve me now—not Trishan. I will inform him."
She reached out and placed her hand lightly on his shoulder.
The weight of it was unbearable.
Rohak buckled. His knees hit the floor with a hard thud. His spine arched involuntarily, as if gravity itself had changed. Sweat broke across his forehead. He gasped as invisible pressure crushed down on him.
She released him.
"Learn your manners," she said, voice like cold steel. "Bow to your masters."
With that, she turned and walked away.
Rohak remained kneeling, panting heavily, eyes wide with disbelief.
He had seen two horrors that night. The blood-drenched, broken thing that Arya had become—and a glimpse of the unearthly force that Vayodhara wielded without even raising her voice.
He now understood: he had walked into a nest of monsters.
And he would not walk out unchanged.