The nagin's venomous glare did not waver.
Hiss. Hiss.
The hold tightened around him, coils constricting, testing, measuring. The pressure of her scales against his ribs was a question, a challenge.
Is she seeing if she can swallow me whole?
Ashan's face remained stone. His eyes flickered—grey-white swirling beneath the surface.
Tch. [Analyse] can't read her. The core difference I've learned: [Analyse] fails against those who master their own emotions. Who hide their true selves.
Like this nagin.
He stared back. Calculating glare met calculating glare. [Memory Drive] could work. Plunge into her memories. Understand her mind. But the functions overlap—and both have limits.
The grey-white hues dimmed.
[Totem Beast Transformation].
Not just his eyes this time. His whole face shifted—features elongating, skin darkening, scales emerging. His hands followed. Dark golden scales spread across his flesh, catching the lamplight. Serpent eyes stared into serpent eyes.
Hiss. Hiss.
The nagin's tongue flickered out. Touched his cheek. Tasting. Testing. Recognizing.
Come on. See me as kin.
I glimpsed enough in her memories. Hatred for her own kind. For reasons I don't yet understand.
If she lashes out now—the fight could sink the ship. Kill everyone.
He held calm. Held still. Held serpent. The nagin held her coils. Held her gaze. Held judgment. Time stretched. Tension burned.
Hiss. Hiss.
She released him. Slithered onto the cushion. Coiled. Ashan transformed back. Breathed.
What is this woman thinking?
He blinked. The nagin settled deeper into her coils. Her eyes closed. Her breathing steadied. She entered sadhana.
His mouth twitched. Lips curled into a faint smirk. In my cabin. On my cushion. I'm on the floor.
He shook his head. Settled. Sadhana. Eternal.
The sin cycle began.
.....
Days passed. The nagin remained coiled, her scales catching the light that filtered through the cabin's small window. Ashan remained in sadhana, the energies moving through him, the patterns shifting. Lust cycle still lagging behind greed. Always catching up. Never catching.
The nagin watched.
What a strange human. Her thoughts moved in silence, observing the creature across from her. Everything about him is strange. Those swirling grey-white eyes. That spell that sees through anything.
His sadhana—two volatile energies clashing in his body. Both are fighting for dominance. Yet he holds them both. Balance them.
And above all... his calm. Not absence of emotion. I can feel them flickering beneath. He's suppressing. Controlling.
Her hand touched her wound. The hideous cut from chin to cheek. Nothing like that cold, evil woman.
"You're staring quite hard." Ashan's voice was soft and amused. "Something to say?"
Hiss. Hiss. Her anger was immediate. Predictable. Controlled.
"Come now. We both know you understand me. Naga are the intelligent ones. Not like those Gnashka gremlins."
Her eyes blazed. "Do not compare my kind to those wretched creatures." The voice did not come from her throat. It bloomed inside his mind, a thing of fury and pride. "We are noble. We are—"
Ashan's lips curled. Sakhrein. Twisted, but I understand. Maybe they learned telepathy. Or maybe our languages share a root.
"Ashan." He offered his name. "And yours?"
A low hiss. No name. He smiled. "Do you take pride in your species?" The question came from nowhere. Or somewhere very specific.
"Of course." Her hiss was sharp. "Don't you?" He did not answer. Her hand touched her wound again. Unconsciously.
What does he know?
Silence stretched between them. "Why didn't you kill me?" Her voice—mind-voice—was venomous. "You had a chance. Humans are greedy. You could have taken my vestige. Sold my body."
"You're right." Ashan's answer was calm. "But I don't need chances to kill you. I can do it whenever I choose." He leaned back. "And encountering an intelligent rakshasa isn't an everyday occurrence."
She glared. "I owe you nothing." "That's your choice."
If I want to be kind, I will be kind. If I want to be ruthless, I will be ruthless. I don't bend to the world. I bend the world to my needs.
"Can you teach me that?" He gestured vaguely toward his head. "Mind-speaking. It's a useful trick."
Her glare softened. Almost imperceptibly. "Mantra? Is that what you humans call it?" Derision colored her thoughts. "This is siddhi. Bloodline. We don't need your crude chants and gestures."
Tch. Avanya Siddhi. Bloodline power. His mood darkened.
"And you?" Her question came sharp. "How do you hold two volatile energies in your body and still breathe? Still live?"
He waved a dismissive hand. "What can I say? Feeble humans can only manage this much. We're weak compared to noble nagas."
She stared at him. Utter fury. Utter confusion. This child. Why am I speaking so freely with him? Is he not afraid of me? He must be plotting. Humans always plot.
But... he could be useful. A tool for my revenge. She calculated. Across from her, Ashan calculated too.
What can I trade with her?
.....
Knock. Knock. KNOCK.
"Captain!" Dunstan's voice was tight and anxious. "Suryazar Rajyam vessel spotted. You need to see this."
Reinforcements? Ashan rose. Moved to the door. The nagin watched him go. He leads these humans too.
"There." Dunstan pointed toward the horizon. A ship sailed toward them—sleek, armed, inevitable. The Suryazar flag flew from its mast: a golden sun, twelve rays spreading light across the sea.
Ashan's eyes swirled. A shock jolted down his spine. Danger.
His face darkened. His hands clenched.