That morning, the skies of Swantara had yet to fully awaken. A thin mist still hung above the valley, and the mountain winds carried the scent of damp leaves and earth just touched by the sun’s first light.
In front of the military outpost, Bhirendra stood with his back to Reina, speaking in a low but commanding voice to the man from the day before—Pramudya, his second-in-command.
“Take over the Wall’s watch,” Bhirendra said curtly. “I must take the foreigner back to the Capital. The Elders of the Tower must give us answers.”
Pramudya, who had been glancing occasionally at Reina, narrowed his eyes. His face remained unreadable, but curiosity flickered beneath the surface.
“A woman from another dimension,” he muttered, weighing the words. “Very well. I’ll do it. For Swastamita—and the Wall.”
He placed a clenched fist over his chest in a gesture of allegiance. Bhirendra did not reply with words, only gave a small nod before turning to Reina, who stood awkwardly near the gates.
Reina straightened when she saw him approaching—tall, commanding in a dark cloak that fluttered with the morning breeze. A large black horse stood beside him, eerily calm, awaiting only a single command.
Bhirendra halted the horse in front of Reina and extended his hand silently.
Reina stared at it, hesitant, but eventually took it. With one pull, her body lifted easily, now seated just before his chest—solid, warm, and far too close to ignore.
The horse surged forward as Bhirendra gave a soft flick of the reins. Reina barely had time to react, let alone protest. Wind lashed against her face and hair as the rocky path blurred into streaks. She shut her eyes and, almost instinctively, clung to Bhirendra’s body to keep herself steady as nausea twisted in her gut.
“Can you… stop for a moment?” she murmured weakly, a plea of defeat against this absurd new reality.
Bhirendra slowed the horse. He glanced down, seeing Reina’s face pale as bone.
Before he could speak, Reina had already slipped off the horse, falling to her knees in the grass and vomiting bitter stomach acid.
“Sorry… I give up… This is worse than any car sickness,” she groaned, head bowed in shame and exhaustion.
She expected him to turn away. To scold her. To be disgusted. But he did none of those. Bhirendra simply stared at her calmly, brows slightly furrowed, as if puzzled how someone could be so fragile.
Without warning, he bent down and scooped her into his arms—effortless, as if her weight was nothing more than the cloak on his back.
“Hey—what are you—”
“Silence. We don’t have time.”
His tone left no room for argument.
Still woozy and weak, Reina could only shake her head in surrender as he carried her with strength that was firm, yet not unkind.
Bhirendra stood tall. The sky above them bloomed with warm orange light. The two moons still hung faintly behind the thinning mist, opposite the rising sun.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded again.
Reina obeyed—not because of magic, but from sheer resignation.
A low whisper flowed between Bhirendra’s breaths—a chant in an ancient tongue Reina couldn’t understand. His voice echoed inside her skull, like ripples in a frozen lake.
The air around them shifted. It trembled. The wind died. Nature fell silent.
Then everything turned black.
Moments later, Reina opened her eyes. She was still in Bhirendra’s arms, but now they stood upon a stone courtyard patterned with celestial symbols, before a towering structure made of gleaming black stone.
The Tower rose in stillness, yet felt undeniably alive. Its pillars pulsed faintly with bluish light, and the wind swirling around it carried whispers that didn’t seem to belong to this world.
Reina swallowed hard. Her throat was still bitter, but something inside her stirred—a premonition, or perhaps a warning. This place… would change everything.
And she knew whatever truths would be revealed here… they could never be undone.
She staggered to her feet, only half-aware that she had just survived her first magical journey. The ground beneath her was different now—not hard and dusty like the barracks—but smooth stone etched with ancient markings, warm despite the absence of sunlight.
Bhirendra still supported her with one arm. He glanced at her to make sure she wouldn’t collapse again.
But just a few steps past the tower gate, a group of armed sentinels blocked their way. Their glowing spears were pointed—not at Reina—but at Bhirendra. Not out of ignorance, but because of a single, unspoken rule.
“You know our laws,” said one of them—a tall woman in a gray robe with a glowing insignia on her shoulder. “No outsider may enter the Tower of Light.”
Bhirendra scoffed. “This outsider… might be the key you've been searching for all these centuries. She’s not an ordinary human. She is... Arunika.”
At once, the atmosphere shifted. The guards exchanged wary glances.
Before an argument could erupt, a sharp tap of a staff echoed from atop the steps.
An old man descended slowly—his long white hair and beard flowing, eyes glowing like quiet embers. This was Elder Mahawira, the spiritual leader of the Tower.
“Bring her to the Purification Hall,” he said softly, yet his voice shattered the tension.
The guards bowed and stepped aside. Without a word, Bhirendra carried Reina once more—through the halls lined with glowing runes and ancient carvings. Reina didn’t resist. Her head was spinning, her body trembling. In Bhirendra’s arms, she felt… safer than she should have.
Inside the hall, Elder Mahawira began a purification ritual with light movements. A glow passed into Reina’s body, gently reviving her senses.
“I found her near the Forbidden Forest,” Bhirendra explained. “She claims to be from another world—Arunika. I tried accessing her subconscious… but her memory is locked.”
Mahawira nodded slowly. “Let me try.”
The old man placed a hand on Reina’s crown. A soft light flowed from his fingertips—but within seconds, his face tensed.
“There is ancient magic sealing her memories. Not ordinary enchantments. This… is a protection spell of great complexity. It would wound anyone who tries to break it.”
“Is there another way?” Bhirendra asked firmly.
Mahawira fell silent. Then, as if speaking to the very ceiling, he murmured, “There is one forbidden incantation. No one has dared attempt it. Do you have the will?”
Bhirendra nodded without hesitation.
Mahawira placed a hand on Bhirendra’s head, transferring the incantation directly into his mind. Red light flared in his eyes, then slowly faded.
Bhirendra turned to Reina, helping her sit upright. His large hand supported her neck gently.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
Reina hesitated, but obeyed. Her breath slowed.
In the next instant, Bhirendra’s forehead touched hers. He began chanting in the ancient tongue, his voice vibrating the air. Light began to envelop them both.
But suddenly, a surge of wild energy erupted. Bhirendra was thrown backward, crashing into the stone wall with a hard thud. Blood trickled from his mouth.
“Bhirendra!” Reina gasped, rushing to him.
The moment her hand touched his body, a symbol ignited on her palm—an ancient mark spinning slowly on her skin: Wadhita Arkanasya, the Sigil of Fate.
At the same time, Bhirendra’s chest glowed with the same symbol. Light from their bodies converged—and from the void, two ancient artifacts emerged.
On Reina’s left ring finger: a dark gold ring set with a white stone, glowing gently.
At Bhirendra’s side: a long, silver-black sword appeared from thin air. Its blade bore golden etchings that blazed, and the hilt was carved with a twin-headed dragon—one facing the real world, the other toward Swantara.
The Purification Hall fell silent. Even Mahawira spoke no word.
“Fate has chosen,” the elder whispered.
Bhirendra slowly rose, his gaze on Reina now changed.
They were no longer just protector and outsider. The two were now bound by something beyond logic, deeper than history—and darker than either of them had ever imagined.
And fate... had only just begun.