Surbhi and Kasha rushed into the hospital hut.
Inside, they found Tulsi and little Ravi sitting beside Chief Yarul. His eyes were open, breathing steady, looking far more stable than before.
Surbhi checked his pulse, then his wound.
"All normal," she said with relief. "He's just tired."
Yarul saw Kasha enter.
His expression shifted—serious, purposeful.
"Tulsi… Ravi… please wait outside," he said softly.
They obeyed.
Now only Surbhi and Kasha remained inside.
Yarul adjusted himself on the bed and took a deep breath.
"It's time I tell you the rest."
Kasha's heart pounded.
"After the encounter with the beast," Yarul began, "my father Zin realized we could no longer live in Yaksha territory. Too many had died. Too much blood had been spilled."
Zin sent one of his trusted guards away with a sealed letter—
a letter that would later prove to be fate-changing.
Then he gathered the entire Yaksha tribe and announced they were leaving their homeland forever.
But not everyone agreed.
"Some elders refused," Yarul said. "They had spent their whole lives there. Their childhood, their families, their ancestors' ashes… They refused to leave."
And so, a part of the community stayed behind.
Zin took the rest and marched north through the giant forests.
Each day was a battle—
ambushes from wild beasts, freezing winds, dwindling supplies.
"And my own condition was getting worse," Yarul said. "The poison in my leg was spreading."
His face dimmed with memory.
"Then one day… everything changed."
Zin had gone hunting alone, searching for food deep in the jungle.
He spotted a deer drinking from a stream.
Quietly, he raised his bow—
Then saw wolves coming from all sides, circling the helpless animal.
They attacked in frenzy.
The deer's screams echoed painfully.
Zin fought the wolves fiercely, trying to drive them away. But they turned on him.
Teeth tore into his arms, claws ripped his cloak, blood spilled everywhere.
Then—
Just as Zin was about to collapse—
The wolves ran.
Vanished into the forest like shadows.
Zin looked up weakly…
And saw a man standing in front of him.
Young. Strong. Radiating an almost divine beauty.
He said Zin's name gently…
as if he had known him all his life.
But Zin could not understand.
He could not even speak.
He fainted.
When Zin awoke, he was lying in a chamber glowing with soft, golden light.
His wounds—almost all healed.
The air smelled of herbs and magic.
A young boy entered the room—beautiful, calm, almost otherworldly.
"Zin… how do you feel now?" the boy asked.
Zin blinked, confused.
But then recognition struck him.
His eyes filled with tears.
His voice cracked.
"Sukal… you're alive."
He tried to stand but pain shot through him.
Sukal helped him gently.
"You're not fully healed yet. Rest. You've been unconscious since morning."
Zin grabbed his hand desperately.
"But… how did you survive, Sukal?"
Sukal sighed.
"Because of a few vials of elixir we had… ancient healing potions from Sambhala. They kept us alive long enough to escape."
Zin's voice trembled.
"What about Sambhala…? Is it… gone?"
Sukal's eyes darkened.
"When we reached there… everything was ash. The entire city gone. Burned. Dead. Nothing remained except a few ancient texts we managed to recover."
Zin bowed his head—and cried silently.
He asked at last, voice shaking,
"And Divya…?"
Sukal nodded.
"She survived."
He called out—and Divya entered.
And with her… stood a boy around Yarul's age.
Zin staggered to his feet despite the pain and hugged Divya tightly.
"I thought I lost you… all of you…"
Zin wiped his tears and looked at the child.
"Is this your son?"
Sukal smiled proudly.
"Yes. Our son."
"What's his name?" Zin asked.
Sukal replied,
"Avhel."
The moment the name left his mouth—
Kasha's eyes shot open.
"That's… that's my father's name," he whispered.
Yarul nodded.
"Yes, Kasha. Avhel was Sukal
and Divya's son."
Yarul continued.
"After some time, Zin said he needed to leave. Needed to go back. Needed to save the tribe."
Sukal tried to stop him.
"Your wounds are healing. You must rest."
But Zin shook his head.
"My people are in danger."
Sukal sighed and led him to the window.
Outside stood a thriving village—
peaceful, prosperous, glowing like Sambhala reborn.
"You are safe here," Sukal said softly.
"Yarul is healing in the next chamber. Our doctors removed the poison."
Zin felt relief for the first time in years.
Sukal sent Divya and Avhel out, then closed the door behind them.
"Zin…" Sukal said quietly, "…I must ask. That poison in Yarul's body—where did it come from? Only one creature in this world produces that venom."
Zin clenched his fists.
"I think it was… Zakur."
Sukal froze.
"What? Why would Zakur attack you?"
Zin's voice shook.
"When I returned to Sambhala… after the disaster… I saw him. Half of his face burned. His eyes full of rage. He killed all my soldiers. I barely escaped."
Sukal's face grew pale.
"But Zakur was Sambhala's most loyal protector… Why… why would he do this? And Oril… was she with him?"
"I don't know," Zin said weakly. "I only saw Zakur."
Sukal went quiet—thinking deeply.
Then placed a hand on Zin's shoulder.
"Do not fear. Eat with us tonight. Rest. Everything will be all right."
Later that night, Zin, Sukal, Divya, and little Avhel gathered for dinner.
And a young Yarul—fully healed—joined them with excitement.
He and Avhel had become friends instantly, as if guided by fate itself.
"Avhel had no other children his age in their sanctuary," Yarul said softly. "So we bonded quickly."