Ah!When Fire Burned the Ocean
Rain fell like shattered glass.
It wasn't water it was grief, given form. Each drop hissed as it hit the ground, steaming where it touched the blackened earth.
Agnivrat's breath came in ragged puffs of smoke. Not from exhaustion. His lungs burned from the inside, embers glowing behind his ribs with every inhale. The skin around his knuckles blistered where he gripped Jwala—the sword that had once felt like an extension of his soul, now a burning brand in his shaking hands.
Across the ruined courtyard, Neervrah stood unmoving.
Water beaded on his skin like pearls, rolling down his arms without soaking the deep blue silk of his dhoti. At his feet, puddles swirled against gravity, forming intricate mandalas before collapsing and rising again.
He wasn't crying. But the air around him wept.
---
"Neer."
Agnivrat's voice cracked on the single syllable. It sounded foreign to his own ears raw, stripped bare.
Neervrah's eyes met his. Blue. So damn blue. Like the ocean Agni had only heard of in stories deep enough to drown in, calm enough to hide every storm beneath its surface.
"You don't have to do this." Agni's sword lowered an inch. Just an inch.
A ghost of a smile touched Neer's lips. Not happy. Not sad. Just… accepting.
"Always the same question." Neer's voice was softer than the rain. "It's never about what I make you do, Agni. It's about what you choose."
He took a step forward. Not aggressive. Not threatening. Just… closing the distance.
Agni's fingers tightened on Jwala's hilt. The leather sizzled.
---
Memories flashed unwanted, unbidden:
Neer laughing as water splashed over Agni's feet during training.
The way his own fire had hissed in protest… then settled.
Cool fingers brushing against his when passing a scripture.
Late nights under the banyan tree, arguing about nothing and everything.
The scent of rain on Neer's skin, even when the sky was clear.
"You're in my way," Agni whispered, the words tasting like ash.
"I know." Neer's smile widened, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I've always been in your way. Since the day I fell into you."
Another step.
Heat radiated from Agni in visible waves. The raindrops evaporated before they could touch him, creating a halo of steam.
Neer didn't flinch. The steam curled around him, caressing his face before dissolving.
---
"We can leave," Agni choked out. "Right now. Just… walk away."
Neer shook his head slowly. "Look around, Agni."
Agni didn't need to look. He could feel it—the cracked earth, the dying trees, the silent screams of the land that had tried to contain two opposing forces for too long.
"This isn't about them," Agni insisted, desperation clawing up his throat. "This is about us."
"No." Neer's voice broke for the first time. "That's where you're wrong. It was never just about us."
He lifted his hand. Not to summon Varshini. Not to attack.
Just… an offering.
Palm up. Fingers slightly curled. An invitation Agni had seen a hundred times before—in stolen moments, in hidden corners, in the spaces between breaths when the world wasn't watching.
---
Lightning struck somewhere close.
The flash illuminated Neer's face—serene, peaceful, resigned.
"You were always going to burn, Agni," he murmured. "I was always going to be what you burned."
Agni's vision blurred. Not from smoke. "Don't."
"Thank you," Neer whispered, taking one final step. Into the heat. Into the fire. Into Agni's space. "For letting me be the one."
Jwala moved.
Not with Agni's command. Not with intent. It moved because physics demanded it—because a body in motion stays in motion, because a raised sword must eventually fall, because some stories write themselves.
---
The blade entered clean.
No resistance. As if Neer's body had been waiting for this moment. As if it were made for this singular purpose—to be sheathed by Agni's fire.
Neer didn't cry out. Didn't gasp. He let out a soft sigh—the sound of tension releasing, of weight being lifted, of coming home after a long journey.
His knees buckled.
Agni dropped Jwala. The sword hit the wet earth with a dull thud, flames sputtering out.
He caught Neer before he could fall. Lowered him gently to the ground, cradling his head, ignoring how his own skin blistered where it touched Neer's cooling body.
"Look at me," Agni begged, fingers trembling as they brushed wet hair from Neer's forehead. "Look at me, damn it!"
Neer's eyes fluttered open. Still blue. Still endless. Still his.
A smile—real this time. Small. Private. Just for Agni.
"Next time," Neer breathed, blood staining his teeth crimson. "I'll find you sooner."
His chest stilled.
---
The rain stopped.
Not gradually. All at once. As if the sky itself was holding its breath.
In the sudden silence, Agni heard it—the sound of his own heart cracking. Not breaking. Cracking. Like ice over too-thin water. Like earth during drought. Like promises made in the dark that couldn't survive the dawn.
He pressed his forehead to Neer's, ignoring the steam that rose where their skin met.
"You already did," he whispered to the emptiness. "You already found me. And I…"
The words died in his throat.
He didn't need to say them. The scorched earth said it for him. The silent sky said it. The cooling body in his arms said it.
And I let you go.
---
Somewhere in the ruins, a blue lotus bloomed in a puddle of rainwater.
It shouldn't have been possible. Not here. Not now.
But there it was—petals unfurling toward the grey sky, a spot of color in a monochrome world.
A promise.
A beginning disguised as an ending.
A story waiting to be told again.