The night did not feel ordinary.
Not because of danger—but because of absence.
No messengers arrived.No villagers came seeking help.No rumors drifted in on the wind.
Silence, Arjanveer had learned, was never neutral.
The Vanishing Thread
It began subtly.
A village that once welcomed the Nihangs now sent word: "We no longer require assistance."A training circle dissolved overnight.A familiar supply route closed without explanation.
None of it hostile.
All of it coordinated.
Gurbaaz frowned. "Someone's pulling strings."
Arjanveer nodded. "And cutting them at the same time."
The Ones Without Faces
Scouts brought fragments of information—never complete.
Meetings held in borrowed halls.Orders delivered verbally, never written.Messengers who could not name their employers.
The message was consistent:
"Do not attack the Nihangs.""Do not engage.""Isolate them."
Jathedar Jasraj Singh listened, eyes half-closed.
"They do not want us defeated," he said."They want us forgotten."
A Weapon Called Absence
No raids followed.No accusations.No open resistance.
Instead:
Villages were warned that hosting Nihangs would bring "instability."Merchants were told neutrality required distance.Former allies were offered protection—in exchange for silence.
Fear, repackaged as prudence.
Arjanveer felt the weight settle in his chest.
"How do you fight an enemy who never stands before you?" he asked.
Jasraj Singh answered calmly:
"You don't chase them.You make yourself undeniable."
The Hardest Choice
That night, the council met beneath open sky.
Supplies were low.Numbers thinning.Morale steady—but strained.
A Nihang spoke what many feared.
"If we withdraw deeper into the forests… we survive."
Another replied quietly.
"And disappear."
All eyes turned to Arjanveer.
He took a long breath.
"If we vanish," he said,"they succeed without ever revealing themselves."
Silence followed.
"Then we stay," he continued."Open. Visible. Limited—but present."
Service Without Witness
The Order changed its way.
No banners.No announcements.No escorts.
They repaired wells at night.Delivered food quietly.Trained villagers who asked—without record or credit.
Some doors stayed closed.
Others opened slowly.
One at a time.
The Crack in the Shadow
Weeks passed.
Then a messenger arrived—young, nervous, determined.
"My village was told not to speak to you," she said."But when our bridge collapsed… no one else came."
She bowed deeply.
The crack had appeared.
Isolation only works until need becomes stronger than fear.
Closing
Arjanveer stood beneath the Nishan Sahib as dawn rose.
The Order was smaller now.Quieter.Uncelebrated.
But still standing.
Some enemies seek victory.
Others seek silence.
The Nihang Order had learned the truth:
To endure erasure, one must live so honestly…
…that forgetting becomes impossible.