The Varaksha’s Curse

The forest felt quieter in the aftermath of the battle, but Kiran knew the silence was deceptive. The Ashen Circle's retreat wasn't a victory—it was a warning. They would return, stronger and more prepared.

As he and the Varaksha rested near the edge of the clearing, Kiran's mind buzzed with questions. He stared into the crackling fire they had built, its warm light flickering across his face. "What are they, really?" he asked finally. "The Ashen Circle. How did they come to be?"

The Varaksha, lying beside him with its wings folded, exhaled deeply. "To understand them, you must understand the history of the Watchers—and the war that nearly destroyed them."

Kiran leaned forward, his curiosity sharpening. "What war?"

The Varaksha's golden eyes glimmered as it began. "Long ago, when the first Watcher forged the bond with my kind, the balance of the world was delicate but whole. The Watchers were protectors, chosen to guard the sacred energies that flow through the earth. But not everyone believed that power should remain untouched."

It paused, as if searching for the right words. "There was a faction—humans who believed that the Watchers were wasting their gift. They saw the power as a tool, something to be harnessed for conquest and control. They were led by a man named Iskar, a brilliant but arrogant sorcerer who believed he could bend the forces of creation to his will."

Kiran frowned. "And he formed the Ashen Circle?"

The Varaksha nodded. "Yes. Iskar gathered those who shared his vision, and together, they delved into forbidden magic. They sought to replicate the bond of the Watchers but without the connection to the earth, without the respect for balance. What they created instead was corruption—a twisted mockery of the Watchers' power."

Kiran shivered at the thought. "What happened?"

"War," the Varaksha said simply. "The Ashen Circle turned their dark magic against the Watchers, seeking to claim the sacred energy for themselves. But the power they wielded was unstable, tainted by greed and ambition. Their experiments poisoned the land, leaving scars that remain to this day."

Kiran's mind flashed back to the desolate plains he had traveled as a child, places where nothing grew and the air felt heavy. "I've seen those scars," he said softly. "I always thought they were cursed."

"In a way, they are," the Varaksha replied. "The war raged for decades, and in the end, both sides suffered greatly. The first Watcher sacrificed himself to seal away the Ashen Circle's greatest weapon—a fragment of pure corruption known as the Void Shard. Without it, the Circle was weakened, and they faded into the shadows. But they were never truly defeated."

Kiran stared into the fire, the weight of the story sinking in. "And now they're back, trying to finish what they started."

The Varaksha's gaze hardened. "Yes. The Void Shard was never destroyed, only hidden. If they find it, their power will grow beyond anything we can imagine. That is why they hunt you, Kiran. They know the bond between us is the key to unlocking its location."

Kiran's stomach twisted. "The key? I don't know anything about this shard."

"Not yet," the Varaksha said, its tone grave. "But the memories of the Watchers live within you, passed down through your bloodline. If you learn to unlock them, you may find the answers we need."

That night, Kiran couldn't sleep. The Varaksha's words replayed in his mind, each revelation more unsettling than the last. He thought of the Ashen Circle's masked figures, their eerie chants, and the shadow beast they had summoned. How could he stand against them?

His thoughts were interrupted by a faint glow emanating from the forest. It was soft at first, like the light of a firefly, but it grew steadily brighter.

"Kiran," the Varaksha's voice rumbled. "Do you see it?"

He nodded, grabbing his bow and rising to his feet. "What is it?"

"A memory," the Varaksha said cryptically. "Follow it."

Kiran hesitated but obeyed, stepping cautiously toward the light. As he drew closer, he realized it wasn't just a glow—it was a pattern of runes etched into the air, shimmering with golden energy.

When he reached out to touch them, the world around him shifted.

He found himself standing in a vast, open plain under a blood-red sky. The air crackled with energy, and in the distance, two armies faced each other: one clad in gold and silver armor, their weapons glowing with the light of the earth; the other shrouded in darkness, their figures twisted and monstrous.

At the center of the battlefield stood a man. He was tall and regal, with piercing eyes that seemed to hold the weight of the world. In one hand, he held a staff crowned with a shard of glowing crystal.

"Iskar," Kiran whispered, recognizing the man from the Varaksha's story.

As he watched, Iskar raised the staff, and a wave of dark energy erupted from the shard, tearing through the golden-armored soldiers. The earth itself seemed to scream in protest, the ground cracking and the sky darkening further.

But then, another figure stepped forward. A Watcher, cloaked in a flowing mantle of green and gold, holding a blade that shimmered like sunlight on water. He charged toward Iskar, his movements fluid and precise.

The two clashed in a burst of light and shadow, their powers colliding with such force that Kiran stumbled backward, shielding his eyes. When the light faded, the Watcher was kneeling, his blade shattered. But Iskar, too, was weakened, his staff fractured and the Void Shard barely glowing.

"You cannot win," the Watcher said, his voice strong despite his injuries. "The balance will always prevail."

Iskar sneered. "The balance is a lie. Power belongs to those strong enough to claim it."

With a final surge of energy, the Watcher plunged the remnants of his blade into the ground. Golden light erupted, engulfing the shard and pulling it into the earth. Iskar screamed as the ground beneath him crumbled, swallowing him and his forces in a chasm of light and shadow.

Kiran gasped as he was pulled back to the present, the runes fading around him.

"What did you see?" the Varaksha asked, its voice tinged with urgency.

"Iskar," Kiran said, his voice trembling. "And the Void Shard. The Watchers buried it, sealed it away. But if the Ashen Circle finds it—"

"They will unleash a power that could destroy this world," the Varaksha finished grimly. "We must find the shard before they do. And to do that, you must unlock the rest of the memories."

Kiran nodded, determination hardening in his chest. The Ashen Circle wasn't just his enemy—they were the enemy of everything his ancestors had fought to protect.

As the first light of dawn broke through the trees, Kiran and the Varaksha began their journey. The road ahead was fraught with danger, but Kiran knew one thing for certain: he wouldn't let the Ashen Circle destroy the balance his ancestors had died to preserve.

To be continued…