The heat of summer had begun to fade. A breeze returned to Pataliputra, and with it came the scent of rain-soaked earth and news of war.
Inside the palace walls, murmurs of unrest traveled like wind through reeds - swift, invisible, and unstoppable. The emperor's advisors gathered more often, maps spread across marble floors, ink marking borders that were already bleeding. The eastern provinces stirred with rebellion, and the royal guard was summoned to prepare.
Aarav was among the first chosen.
He stood in the courtyard of his family's estate, eyes fixed on the horizon where dark clouds loomed. The clamor of soldiers echoed faintly from the nearby garrisons. His younger brother, Viraj, still barely a man, handed him his leather-wrapped sword.
"They say the rebels ride elephants now," Viraj said, trying to sound brave.
Aarav looked down at him. "They ride fear. And fear is louder than any beast."
"And Devika?" Viraj asked quietly. "Have you told her?"
Aarav's jaw clenched. "Not yet."
---
That night, beneath a sky thick with monsoon clouds, Aarav made his way to the temple gardens for what might be the last time. He walked quickly, heart hammering in a strange rhythm that felt both ancient and urgent.
Devika was already there, standing barefoot in the wet grass, her veil soaked through, clinging to her shoulders like liquid night. She turned as he approached, and in her eyes he saw it - she already knew.
"When do you leave?" she asked.
"At dawn."
She looked away. "The gods are cruel."
He took her hands. "No. Men are cruel. The gods... they just watch."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Rain began to fall - soft at first, then harder, until it soaked through every layer of silk and skin. But they didn't move.
"Will you come back?" she whispered.
He didn't answer right away. He touched her cheek, brushing away raindrops like tears. "I will return, Devika. Or I will haunt the rivers until I find you again."
She laughed, brokenly. "That sounds like a vow."
"It is."
Then she did something she had never done before - she rose on her toes and kissed him, not gently, but with the desperation of one who knows time is a lie. The garden vanished around them. There was no temple. No war. Only mouths tasting rain and the sharp ache of goodbye.
When they pulled apart, she reached for her ankle and unfastened a second bell - the twin of the one she had given him before. "Now you have both," she said. "Let them remind you who you fight for."
---
By morning, Aarav was gone.
Devika danced that night for the temple's full-moon ritual, but her movements were changed. Gone was the softness, the grace of the goddess. In its place burned something raw, powerful - as if the earth itself had entered her limbs. The priests watched in awe and fear. Some said she had been possessed. Others said she had gone mad.
Only Meera knew the truth.
---
Weeks passed. Letters from the battlefield were scarce. Devika read every notice pinned at the market's edge, scanning for news, hoping not to find his name on the lists of dead. Her nights became haunted with dreams - some tender, others soaked in blood. Sometimes she heard Aarav's voice calling her from beyond the fog. Sometimes, she woke screaming.
Then one day, a soldier came.
He arrived limping into the temple grounds, bearing a scroll marked with the royal seal. His clothes were torn, and his face bore the weary, broken look of someone who had seen too much.
He sought Devika by name.
"Aarav sent this," he said, holding out a parchment sealed with black wax. "He told me to give it to no one else."
Her hands shook as she opened it.
To the girl who taught me the name of silence -
If you are reading this, I am either far from home or far from life. But know this: I went into battle with your bell tied to my sword and your name stitched into my heart. The rain could not wash you from me. The blade could not carve you out.
If I fall, I will rise again - somewhere, somehow - until I find you. For even death cannot deny what destiny has written. We are more than flesh, Devika. We are story.
And story never dies.
- Aarav
She pressed the letter to her chest, and for the first time since he'd left, Devika wept openly. Not for fear. Not for loss. But for love - defiant, sacred, eternal.