Chapter 2

The Ashes of Hope

The silver-forged blade in Princess Mahitri’s hand sliced cleanly through the thick underbrush, the metal gleaming each time it caught a flicker of moonlight. The forest ahead was cloaked in silence, a silence too deep for comfort. In her other hand, a magic stone pulsed faintly, its bluish glow shimmering like a heartbeat, leading her deeper into the forbidden woods.

Behind her, Shikha stumbled slightly over a root. The younger girl’s breath came out in anxious puffs, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. “P-Princess… why is the Heaven Tree so rare?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the eerie quiet. “Why do they call it that?”

Mahitri didn’t break stride, but her voice, low and reverent, floated back. “Because it was born of the divine. Long ago, it is said, a goddess descended from the heavens and wandered these woods. She wept for the suffering of mortals. From her tears grew a single tree—its leaves said to heal any illness, even bring back those on death’s door.”

Shikha's voice quivered. “But what if it’s just a story?”

Mahitri finally paused. Her eyes, sharp and determined, locked onto the glow of the stone. “I’ve spent years studying forbidden texts. I pieced together maps that were deliberately torn apart. The tree exists—or it did. I won’t give up without seeing it for myself.” She whispered, almost like a prayer, “May the gods guide us.”

They pressed forward. Hours passed. They rested briefly beside a quiet brook, drinking water from their flasks while the magic stone dimmed. Then, once again, they moved on. The forest seemed to breathe around them, its shadows twisting like restless spirits.

Tiny flickers of light soon began to appear—tree fairies, their translucent wings glowing faintly, giggled and darted among the branches. They left trails of glittering magic, like stardust dancing on air.

Shikha smiled faintly. “They’re beautiful…”

Mahitri nodded. “As long as we don’t disturb them, they won’t harm us. These woods still remember kindness.”

But the beauty quickly faded.

Shikha suddenly gripped the princess’s arm. “Wait… something’s wrong.”

Two royal guards immediately moved forward, drawing their blades with practiced silence. The air ahead was different—heavier, burned, and acrid.

“Stay behind us, Your Highness,” one guard said.

As they stepped into the clearing, all color seemed to drain from the world.

The sacred tree—the Heaven Tree—was gone.

Where once legends spoke of its towering beauty and radiant leaves, now there stood only a blackened trunk, charred beyond recognition. Its branches reached skyward like the twisted fingers of a dying god. Blood soaked the ground in deep stains, and scorched petals drifted like ash.

Mahitri collapsed to her knees.

“No…” she whispered. Her voice cracked under the weight of heartbreak. “No… not after everything…”

Shikha’s face paled. “Princess… was this… a demon attack?”

A gust of wind carried the stench of sulfur.

“We need to leave,” Shikha urged. “It’s not safe—”

But her words stopped cold as a figure staggered from behind the ruined tree.

A man—his white robes shredded and soaked with blood. His long hair, once silver, now caked with soot and ash. Wounds covered his body. He looked like he had barely survived a storm of blades.

The guards raised their weapons instinctively.

“Stand down!” Mahitri ordered. “He’s wounded!”

“But Princess—”

“I said stand down!”

The man collapsed in front of her, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud. Despite his condition, his features were unnaturally perfect—angular cheekbones, lashes too long for a warrior, lips parted in a whisper of breath.

“He… looks like a god,” Shikha murmured. “But he reeks of blood…”

Mahitri pressed her fingers to his neck. Faint pulse. He was alive. Barely.

“We’re taking him with us,” she said firmly. “No one says a word about this to anyone outside my circle. Do you understand?”

The guards nodded. The stretcher was assembled quickly, and the man was carried out of the clearing, leaving the ashes of hope behind.

Later – Inside Mahitri’s Private Sanctuary

A chamber lit by soft lanterns. A curtain drawn. Mahitri stood beside her trusted physician, a woman named Yatara—grey-haired, steady, and known for her ability to keep secrets.

Yatara pulled away from the man’s chest after finishing her examination. “There’s no sign of demonic energy. The power stone detects nothing unusual. If he is a demon, he’s cloaked himself with precision beyond my comprehension.”

Mahitri stared at the stranger. “Then why did I feel that… presence? That bloodlust. Just for a second. Like staring into the eyes of a beast pretending to sleep.”

“He could be more than he appears,” Yatara said cautiously. “But for now, he is no threat. His wounds are real. He’s been in a battle—one far beyond the skill of any mortal army.”

Shikha leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Why was he there? That place is hidden from the world.”

Mahitri didn’t answer at first. Her voice came at last, quiet but heavy with suspicion. “We’ll let him recover. Then we’ll question him.”

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