The ward residue still crackled faintly on the broken stones, like the courtyard itself hadn't fully recovered from being split open by root-light. Manraj sat against the dried fountain, still struggling to breathe in a world that suddenly felt too bright, too loud, too heavy.
26 pulsed beneath his ribs.
Not burning.
Just… waiting.
Zoya knelt in front of him, her palms glowing faintly with Silence, steadying his mind and the air around him.
"Manraj," she said softly, "look at me."
He did.
Slowly.
Barely.
She exhaled shakily.
"You almost didn't come back."
Manraj nodded, voice cracking. "I know."
Zoya's eyes flicked across his face — checking, anchoring, reassuring — but the tension in her jaw didn't ease.
He swallowed hard.
"Zoya… there's something I never asked you."
Her brows lifted.
"What?"
He hesitated.
Then—
"All this time… how? How did you know so much about Azhar — his core, his assignments, the Root's rules? You walked into my life on Day One, but you… you've been two steps ahead of everything."
Zoya didn't look away.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't panic.
Instead, she sighed.
A quiet, tired sound — like she'd been waiting for this moment.
"Manraj," she said gently, "you didn't question it because you weren't supposed to."
He froze.
"What does that mean?"
She sat beside him, back resting against the fountain.
"Listen carefully," she said. "Because I owe you the truth now."
A long silence stretched.
Then she began.
"You think Azhar found you first," she said. "But he didn't."
Manraj's breath caught.
"What?"
Zoya nodded.
"I met Azhar years before you ever saw him. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't random. I was assigned to him."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Assigned… by who?"
"By the Silence-Bearers," she said. "The group that maintains the balance between what the Root creates and what the Under-Root corrupts."
Manraj stared at her.
"You're… one of them?"
She nodded once.
Quietly.
"I was trained to watch Root anomalies," she said. "That includes people born… different."
His stomach twisted.
"Like me."
"Like Azhar too," she corrected. "He wasn't normal, Manraj. None of the guardians are. And he knew the moment he met you."
Manraj's pulse raced.
"So the first time he said 'Hello, brother'…"
"It wasn't a joke," Zoya finished. "He felt the missing piece. The vacancy. The thing the Root carved out of him long before you existed."
The courtyard felt colder.
He whispered:
"You're telling me you knew all of this from the beginning?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I knew something was wrong. I knew the Root was preparing something. I knew Azhar was hiding you from the system. But I didn't know what you were until the night the river split."
Manraj closed his eyes.
Trying not to shake.
Trying not to drown.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered.
"Because I didn't want to confirm their prophecy," she said, voice tight. "The moment you hear the truth, it changes you. It shapes you. And I needed you to stay YOU."
He looked at her.
At her frustration.
Her fear.
Her absolute refusal to let him disappear into anyone else's design.
"Zoya," he said, throat tight, "you've been protecting me longer than I knew you."
She didn't deny it.
She didn't smile.
She only said:
"I've been protecting you since before you had a name."
The words hit him harder than the Root's pull.
Before he could respond—
The ground trembled.
Soft.
Warning.
Zoya stood instantly, Silence crackling around her fingers.
"It's the Under-Root," she whispered. "It felt the Root take you. It's responding."
Manraj pushed himself to his feet.
"What does it want now?"
Zoya didn't hesitate.
"It wants you before the Root changes you."
The number spiked.
26 → 25
A cold shiver cut through Manraj's spine.
Zoya grabbed his wrist.
"We need to move. Now."
He nodded, heart pounding.
"Where?"
She didn't look back.
"To the one place neither side can reach."
"Where is that?"
Her expression hardened.
"Azhar's last known location."
The ground trembled again.
25.
The hunt tightened.
And the secrets between them finally had a name.