The world trembled as Arjun stepped down from the Spiral Stair.

  The village of Sarnav was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Ayra, Raaka, and Yumi were waiting just where he had left them—but their expressions had changed. They looked at him as if he had returned not just from a journey, but from something beyond death.

  Ayra stepped forward first, eyes narrowing. “You were gone for hours.”

  Arjun blinked. “It felt like minutes.”

  Yumi approached more slowly, her hand unconsciously hovering over her spell-scroll. “You’re... different. Your aura—it’s burning like a forge.”

  Raaka crossed his arms. “Did the magic stairs give you enlightenment or just mess with your head?”

  Arjun didn’t answer immediately. His hands trembled slightly as he looked down at them. Glyphs now faintly shimmered beneath his skin—marks he hadn’t chosen, but that had chosen him. They pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

  > [Karmic Trait Unlocked: Memory Bearer]

  You have inherited echoes of karmic history. Some truths are now burned into your soul. Beware what you choose to remember.

  He looked at Taari, the blind monk who stood still at the shrine’s base, as if waiting.

  “I saw a throne made of bone and ink,” Arjun finally said. “Nine kings. A war of fate. And... myself. A version of me screaming in two voices. What does it mean?”

  Taari smiled faintly. “It means you are one of the few who can carry the weight of legacy without breaking. Most forget. You remembered.”

  Arjun stepped closer. “Remembered what?”

  “That fate is a story written by those with power—but the ink belongs to the defiant.”

  Taari turned and motioned for the villagers to gather. Old and young alike formed a circle, their robes fluttering in the mountain wind. The air shimmered, charged with raw karmic force.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The blind monk reached into his robe and drew forth a scroll made of blackened bark and etched with golden runes.

  “This,” he said, holding it out to Arjun, “is your next step. The Verse of Fractured Souls. Only one who bears karmic ink can read it.”

  Arjun took the scroll.

  As soon as he did, the wind howled.

  Not just a sound, but a scream—a soul-splitting, fate-splitting cry from beyond the veil of worlds.

  > [New Karmic Quest: Fractured Souls]

  The Verse speaks of forgotten souls who defied gods and paid the price. Their echoes still remain. Find them. Heal them. Or bind them to your cause.

  Reward: Unknown.

  He staggered as the scroll seared his hand. It burned away like paper consumed by blue fire, the verses sinking into his skin and vanishing.

  Raaka stepped forward, eyes wary. “What was that?”

  “Another choice,” Arjun murmured. “Another burden.”

  Ayra looked up at the sky, then back at him. “How many more of these will there be?”

  “As many as it takes,” he said. “Until the Karmic Throne is no longer chained by the past.”

  They left Sarnav the next morning, armed not with new weapons, but with knowledge—dangerous, sacred, and binding.

  For three days they traveled south, toward the borderlands of the Silvan Vale, a land whispered to be home to the First Betrayers—souls who had turned their back on both gods and kings.

  But as they camped under an old ash tree one evening, a shadow flickered between the trees.

  Ayra’s eyes narrowed. “We’re being followed.”

  Arjun didn’t respond. He already knew.

  A moment later, a figure stepped from the forest. Hooded. Tall. Cloaked in ash-gray silk that moved like mist.

  “I am not here to harm you,” the figure said. “But I bring a warning from the Writ-Keepers.”

  Raaka raised his axe. “Never heard of ‘em.”

  “You wouldn’t,” the figure replied. “They do not exist in your history. But they guard the paths between realms. And you, Arjun, are ripping them open.”

  Arjun stared. “Who are you?”

  The figure removed their hood.

  A woman. Pale-eyed. Lips stitched with silver thread—but when she spoke, her voice echoed in the mind, not the ears.

  “I am Nyasi, the Binder of Forgotten Paths.”

  She reached out with one gloved hand. A scroll floated in the air, inked in languages Arjun couldn’t recognize—yet understood.

  “You are being watched,” she said. “The gods know now that the Throne stirs. They will not allow another to ascend. Not without challenge.”

  Arjun took the scroll. His fingers trembled. “Let them come.”

  Nyasi tilted her head. “Bravery is not defiance. Remember that.”

  And with that, she vanished into smoke.

  That night, Arjun sat alone again.

  The scroll pulsed with unseen power. The wind no longer whispered—it warned.

  > “You’re walking a line,” said a voice behind him.

  Ayra.

  He turned to her, and for once, let his guard down.

  “I don’t know what I’m becoming,” he admitted. “But it’s bigger than me now. Bigger than all of us.”

  Ayra nodded, sitting beside him. “Then we hold the line. Together.”

  He looked at her. Really looked.

  Not just a warrior. Not just an ally.

  A witness.

  To the man he used to be.

  And to the king he might become.

  -