“Why am I here?”

Clad in ragtag hide equipment, Bhagat couldn’t help but stare around at the serene sight capturing his eyes. In the bright opening a single dark-brown tree stood taller than the rest, it’s stature imposing on the seemingly young trees around it. It’s branches extended high above, twisting like an elephant’s trunk and splitting further, the jagged twists and the sprout of lush leaves giving it all a majestic touch. The small pond by the trees side helped drive the scene’s magnificence, the light blue reflections running along the trunk in a calm cycle.

“Not even the rogan artisans could make a scene as brilliant as this.”

Bhagat approached closer trying to get a better view, yet each step crunched the grass below him. A cold wind rushed from behind, the quiet and elegant sight before him morphing into a distorted madness as the leaves shook with a sense of anger, perhaps making its resentment known.

He stopped, the noise from his boots halting with him. “I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, lowering his eyes to see his knees shaking from the morning cold. Just below that were his bloodied boots, an eery reminder of man’s corruption.

“I should retur—

The rustles grew more violent, the noise as loud as a man’s screams. He twisted behind to find the revolting stains of blood and mud sprinkled behind him.

He sighed. “It’s already become ruined.”

And yet he crept ever closer.

He glanced at the ripples in the pond. “I’m a… selfish man. A coward.”

Chills ran down his legs.

“I went into battle and watched many of my own brothers get butchered.” A complicated expression donned his face. “Why?”

The leaves returned to their former grace.

“I fought and fought…” He gripped his fists. “But it still wasn’t enough…”

He glanced at his disturbed reflection.

“Why did grandfather tell me to leave? Why? What purpose did it accomplish?”

The water calmed.

“Why?” His chin trembled. “To continue this struggle? Perhaps —in some reality— he actually expects me to pull this off? And save him perhaps?” He shook his head. “No… he’s already dead.”

Bhagat gulped, taking a few moments for his saliva to push down his parched throat. He gripped at the pendant dangling around his neck, the same words engraved ringing into his disturbed conscious. They who are fearless shall never die.

He dropped his hand and kneeled by the pond, letting the metal chime for a short while, before bringing itself to a standstill.

“O Creator,” whispered Bhagat as he rested by the water, his knees incredibly weak with fatigue. “What am I to do if my own mentor —my own grandfather— rots away in my enemy’s cell, awaiting for his head to be lopped off?”

Bhagat closed his eyes, awaiting a response. The leaves rustled, shuffling violently as birds flew rightwards with the wind, their chirps slowly becoming inaudible to his sensitive ears.

“Something?” he asked, opening his eyes to stare at the reflection of his dirtied complexion. Unkempt black hair kept together in a loose cloth and an equally unceremonious short beard.

“What can I do? The only thing that comes to mind is running away from my duty,” he whispered, the tightness in his chest strangling him for breath.

A chill rushed, wrestling a lone leaf from a tree. It gently floated before landing on the calm water.

This calmed his nerves somewhat, staring into his reflection as if heeding God’s guidance.

“They say if one drowns in the holy waters in the Grand Temple, they can find a soul like their own.”

At least those were the stories he believed in. Great warriors like Jahal the Strong and Ishaar the Humble drowned in the waters at the commands of the Blessed Teachers and came out as powerful men, each wielding a will so strong that the Simbaqi elite couldn’t help but admire them for a little while.

The leaf sank.

That was until the Simbaqis burned them alive.

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Bhagat crept his head closer to the amble water.

“Perha—

A growl hissed behind.

His heart thumped. He could hear the crystal clear growls behind him.

“O Creator… must you be so cruel?” He stretched out his arm, gripping at the pommel on his Chaamk talwaar and turned to face the beast.

“Do I… kill it?” He hesitated. The lion approached, bearing it’s fangs as it crept one step at a time. This wasn’t a regular one, but one that two people could ride.

Bhagat gulped, the weariness of the past few days making itself known with his wobbling knees and shaking elbows.

“O Creator…”

He turned his weak feet, preparing to run.

“No… I wouldn’t make it...”

He looked around him. The forest wouldn’t do well to aid in his escape. Behind him was a pond. The Lohaani lion wasn’t known to enjoy water. He could easily bait the lion to leap and dive into the pond.

“I’ll hold my ground.”

He shifted his eyes and stared deep into the lion’s, remembering the motto he had just read from Gahkhar’s pendant.

“They who are fearless shall never die…”

His heart thumped less, as if the words were an extra layer of security.

“They who are fearless shall never die.”

He pulled out his ashen blade and balanced his weight in preparation. The lion crept closer, growling as it approached.

“They who are fearless shall never die!”

The lion responded, leaping at Bhagat with ungodly strength and jumping into the air so quickly.

“Closer…” Bhagat whispered, positioning his blade behind his back and funneling his aura around the metal. He heard crackles before a great flame erupted, the heat making his neck sweat.

“Closer…”

The lion jumped.

“Now!” Bhagat swung the blade in a diagonal arc, the flame creating a faint blazen trail for a short distance.

The lion dodged the flames, retracting its arms to fall faster to the floor.

Bhagat’s heart sank. “I missed!”

The lion charged.

“I can’t keep this up… the next strike must be lethal.”

Bhagat focused his inwards, maintaining the gushing flame, the specks of fire casting lingering shadows on the floor. Bhagat charged forward, dancing with the flaming blade to build up enough momentum.

“Left, right, left, right… right… left!”

The flames evolved, becoming much more fierce with the growing speed.

“Leave!”

He swung his blade.

The lion roared, backing off to avoid the flame.

“No you don’t!” Bhagat circulated more energy, the flames surging in a mere moment.

The lion hissed, landing on the ground and shifting a few steps back. It licked it’s burnt paw and stared calculatingly towards him, it’s black eyes perhaps finding the best spot to pierce his skin.

Contrary to the lion’s elegance, Bhagat could only stumble backwards, the heat from the flame and the heavy circulation fatiguing him greatly.

“O Creator,” whispered Bhagat, seeing double from the strain. “Please make this lion go awa—

The lion’s roar rang the heavenly space. It sank it’s paws deep into the earth, preparing for another charge.

“Dear Lord…”

Bhagat gulped, feeling a stream of sweat roll down his cheeks. His blade wasn’t precise, nor his mind any clear. His blurred eyes only stared, his curved blade blade shakily pointed at the lion.

The lion was much more confident, giving him a deathly stare that screamed only one word: run.

But he gripped his blade tighter and furrowed his brows.

“L-leave me be!” he screamed, his voice shaking.

The lion crept closer.

“Stay back!” Bhagat grit his teeth, gripping the handle of his blade until his light brown skin turned pale.

The lion ignored his protests, creeping closer.

“You fool…” The flames gushed once more, the accruing sweat dampening his thick clothes. “Leave!”

He charged, swinging his sword for another parley.

The lion dashed.

Bhagat crouched to face the oncoming charge and swept his blade for a horizontal cut.

“Stop thi—

He stumbled and made a high cut.

The lion dodged right under, headbutting Bhagat square in the stomach.

“Uh!”

Bhagat coughed up saliva, flying backwards before diving right into the pond, the loud splash disturbing the quiet scenery from before.

A pond this deep? He tried swimming up, but his equipment weighed him down considerably.

No…

The lion dived in with him.

“WHA—

The last of his breath escaped, the water filling in for the lost air.

He stretched out his arms, drowning in hope for salvation.

Yet he felt nothing.

He tried opening his eyes.

Only for the water to irritate them closed.

He could feel visions fly by his mind, some of them weird and others… just plain absurd?

“Fuck.”

The man glanced at the shattered bottle of tequila before him and glanced at his stomach. Forget all the bruises around his body, the wound in his stomach was too deep. With labored breaths he pulled at the shards of glass, each time letting out a groan.

The man looked at his blood-stained hand. “Never would I have thought a bottle of tequila could bring someone so mu—

He arched his back and vomited on the grass, the rain shower flushing it into the dirt. “So much pain…”

He brought out his right hand and he could feel the sensation slowly creeping in him.

He grasped his fingers into a tight grip, only for it to become weak and frail.

He patted his wound, finding his entire palm covered in blood.

“Nearest hopsital is on the other side of the city and I can’t cauterize this wound.” His eyes trembled. “Am I just going to die like this? Bathing in my own blood and vomit?”

He could feel himself bobbing back and forth. When had he started doing this?

“Knowledge.” He let out a groan, glancing at the faint traces of blood on his hands. “Or even memories. Are they all meant to disappear with death?”

He stared into the dark sky shrouded in clouds, the rain cleansing his body for death. A faint thunder echoed and the man gulped down the mucus left in his throat, looking on as a trace of lightning teared his remaining thoughts.

“Why does everything that happens to me… feel… so bloody cliché?”

He closed his eyes, but couldn’t muster up the will to open them up again.

“What the fu—

Bhagat coughed out the water built up in his lungs, frantically observing the serene scene around him with a cramp in his stomach.

“What?”

The beast wasn’t here any longer.

He crouched back up but froze in place.

“Damn…”

A headache swept his head, his eyes squeezing from the unbearable pain.

“What are these… memories?”

All these things had crept into Bhagat’s head in so little time, but his thoughts stopped as he faced his blade.

It lay on the ground next to him, the ashened rust cleaned and replaced with a blue shine.