Chapter 6 – The One Who Watched Birds
The forest changed.
As Ved continued east, the trees grew thinner, but the silence grew thicker. No insects. No birdsong. Only the sound of his footsteps and the rustle of the scroll within his bag.
At midday, he reached a stone bridge—half-broken, hanging above a ravine veiled in mist.
On the far side sat a young man in red and white robes, perched atop a rock, whittling wood.
He wasn't hiding.
In fact, he waved.
> "You're early," the stranger said with a grin. "Or maybe I'm late."
Ved said nothing. He didn't recognize the man's face—or his aura. But something about his posture was... intentional, like a man who mimicked clumsiness.
> "Who are you?"
> "Someone who watches birds," the stranger replied. "But you, Ved... you carry something heavier than a scroll."
Ved froze.
> "How do you know my name?"
The man just smiled and tossed the carved wooden bird into the ravine. It flapped once—and then glided, too perfectly.
Not wood. Not illusion.
Ved's hand hovered near his sword.
> "You're not from the Pavilion," he said.
> "No. But I've been waiting for someone from there. And you happened to come with… a mark."
He pointed toward Ved's bag.
> "The eight broken spokes. Do you know what that symbol means?"
> "No."
> "Good. Keep it that way."
The man stood up.
> "The Mountain Circle Sect is two days away. They won't welcome you. But they will pretend to."
Ved frowned.
> "Why warn me?"
> "Because you're not the only one remembering things that were never taught."
He turned and began walking away.
Then paused.
> "Oh. One more thing."
> "What?"
> "The dreams. They'll stop for a while. But when they return… they'll show blood."
He vanished into the woods.
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🌘 That Night
Ved couldn't sleep.
He tried meditating, but his breathing wouldn't settle. Something inside him was… conflicted. Not afraid—just unsettled, like a door had opened somewhere deep.
He reached for his sword, checked its balance.
Then looked at the scroll again.
Unopened. Still sealed. Still humming.
He didn't break it.
But he pressed his fingers against the wax.
> "Eight spokes… all broken."
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🏯 Two Days Later – Mountain Circle Sect
The gate opened with warm smiles and welcoming words.
But Ved felt the tension beneath.
Too many guards.
Too few questions.
They guided him into the inner sanctum without once asking what was in his bag.
He handed the scroll to the elder.
The man nodded politely… then turned cold.
> "You may stay the night. Tomorrow you leave."
No explanations.
No curiosity.
Ved bowed and left.
But he heard the doors lock behind him as he walked away.
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🕳️ In the Mountains Below
The stranger in red and white robes stood before a narrow crevice. He whistled.
From the dark emerged a woman in tattered monk robes—but her eyes glowed with stormlight.
> "You saw him?"
> "Yes," he said. "He walks the path, unknowingly. Still resisting the voice."
> "And the scroll?"
> "It's not meant for the Mountain Circle. It's meant for him."
The woman nodded.
> "Then we let the Circle read it… and burn."
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