The sun hung low, casting hues of orange and purple across the sky. A pair of hands emerged from the rough waves of the sea, reaching out for the jagged rocks of the cliffy coastline. It was Mokash, and beside him was Grahn. Their breaths were ragged, their bodies tattered and bruised. But the brothers gritted their teeth and climbed the cliff. The saltwater stung their raw hands.

  Mokash’s hand almost slipped, but he managed to catch himself. He glanced at Grahn, who was just below him. He had stopped to catch his breath.

  The climb was hard, but the brothers pushed through and made their way to the top.

  Exhausted, the brothers collapsed onto the rocky ground, staring at the sky, which seemed indifferent to their sufferings.

  Grahn was the first to rise. His light sky-blue hair, matted and wet, clung to his face as he looked down. “This is your fault.” He muttered under his breath.

  Mokash sat up slowly, his golden-yellow hair shimmering brilliantly under the evening light. He looked toward Grahn, his expression calm yet tired. “What?”

  Grahn looked up as he stepped closer, his fists clenched. “You just stood there. You let him die! Papa… You let him die!” Grahn’s voice cracked.

  Mokash’s eyes widened in shock, but he stayed seated, his body stiff. “I didn’t let him die.” He said softly, but his voice was carrying an edge of pain. “He wanted us to live… And I didn’t want to lose you too...”

  “Stop making excuses!” Grahn snapped, raising his voice against Mokash. “If only you had done somet-”

  “What could I have done?” Mokash shot back, his composure starting to break. He stood up, towering over his younger brother.

  “Do you think I don’t hate myself for what happened? For being weak? For not saving him? I still hear his voice every second, asking us to stay alive. I still see his figure, lying under that man’s feet… every second. I also wanted to save him, Grahn!” Mokash’s voice started to crack, tears began forming in his eyes. “He was my father too! I saw my own father die, and I couldn't do anything…” His lips were quivering.

  The raw emotions in Mokash’s voice had silenced Grahn, but the rage born from sorrow shot up again. He shoved Mokash.

  “You were supposed to be strong, Mokash! You were supposed to protect us!” Grahn shouted as his eyes started tearing up.

  Mokash didn't say anything, he couldn't say anything.

  Grahn suddenly swung his fist at Mokash. Mokash didn’t fight back—he merely raised his arms in quiet defense.

  Grahn’s punches, fueled by anger and grief, slowly grew weaker and weaker until, at last, his strength gave out. He collapsed to his knees, his hands clutching Mokash’s ankles, his forehead pressed against the cold, rocky ground.

  Then, the dam broke. Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed, all the bottled-up emotions finally bursting free.

  “He’s gone… Papa…” Grahn screamed, his face a mess of tears and snot.

  Mokash knelt, saying nothing. He simply placed a hand on his brother’s back, a silent anchor in the storm of grief.

  As he looked at Grahn, his vision blurred. He, too, couldn’t hold back his emotions any longer.

  Under the vast lavender sky, the two brothers cried their hearts out—mourning all they had lost.

  …

  The brothers sat on the rocky cliff, watching the sun sink lower into the sea, its golden glow shimmering across the waves. Their eyes were still puffy from crying.

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  Neither had spoken since their quarrel—they simply sat in silence, letting the cold, salty breeze wash over them, their tears drying in its embrace.

  “That was heavy.” Grahn said softly.

  “Hmm…” Mokash replied.

  Grahn's gaze flickered to the sea.

  “Someone’s coming.” Grahn murmured as he pointed towards the sea. A small boat was visible, approaching the coastline; its silhouette was barely visible on the horizon.

  Mokash jumped on his feet, “Let’s go.” He said with urgency.

  Grahn scrambled to his feet as they ran toward the forest, leaving the shoreline behind. The tall, dense trees engulfed them whole, their footsteps muffled by the moist soil.

  Deep into the forest, they stopped to catch their breath. “Huff… Huff… I don’t think they’re following us now.” Mokash said in a fatigued voice. “It is getting dark, we should stay the night here.” He said as he looked at the dark void visible through the trees.

  The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The brothers rested their backs against a thick tree trunk.

  Grahn let out a deep sigh; the weight of the day was still pressing him down. He looked towards Mokash. ‘You are still shining.’ He thought. ‘Despite what happened today, despite what I did to you… You are still shining brightly.’ Grahn clenched his fist, guilt creeping into his heart. ‘I’m sorry… Mokash. I'm weak. I’m sorry.’

  A sudden rustle, along with the sounds of heavy footsteps, broke the silence. The brothers’ bodies tensed, beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. They naturally assumed a fighting stance.

  “Who’s there?” Mokash demanded in a low voice, his eyes scanning the darkness.

  A figure appeared from the dark, tall and imposing. The man had short emerald-green hair, and his muscular frame was even more towering than Mokash’s. His right arm was naked under a sleeveless cut, while his left arm was covered by full sleeves. On his left hip rested a long, curved talwar with a white sheath, adorned with a tattoo of a Parijata flower and studded with yellow and blue sapphires.

  “Hira!” The brothers exclaimed in unison.

  Hira stood there, his bright green eyes widened in surprise, his body drenched in the seawater. “You- you guys are alive?” He said as he panted for air.

  Grahn’s expression softened. “Yeah, we managed to escape.” He said, his eyes filled with sorrow.

  “How did you get here?” Mokash asked.

  “I managed to get a small boat on the port.” Hira answered as he adjusted the talwar on his waistband.

  Mokash stepped forward, his eyes shining with hope. “You made it out. What about others?”

  Hira’s face darkened. “I didn’t see anyone else. When I reached the northern port, I just saw a huge ship. All the rest of the boats were burning, except one.”

  “…I thought I was the only one left until I met you guys.” Hira said after a pause.

  Mokash and Grahn gave him an understanding nod, they didn't need to say anything more about the incident that took place in their village.

  Rumble…

  A deep rumbling broke the silence. Mokash and Hira hurriedly turned towards its source. Grahn stood there, his eyes widened, one hand on his stomach. “It might be because of all the running…” He said with a red face.

  Hira sighed and moved his head in disappointment.

  “Alright, let’s look for some food. This is far enough from the shore, so we should be safe to light a fire, too.” Mokash said.

  The trio scoured the forest for food, but all they could find were some berries and roots. This wasn’t enough, but exhausted, they had to give up. The three took off their sweaty clothes and sat in front of the fire.

  Mokash and Grahn joined hands, silently praying for the souls lost that day. Hira held his talwar, his hands tightly clasped around its sheath. None of them moved, their eyes closed.

  The moment was brief but filled with sentiments. After opening their eyes, the three exchanged glances.

  As they shared what little they had, Hira unsheathed his talwar and began inspecting it. It shone brightly under the firelight; its craftsmanship was undeniable.

  Grahn stared at the weapon, and an unfamiliar feeling arose in his body. “That blade… it feels different. It feels like it has a life in it.”

  Mokash nodded, “I feel it too. I’m strangely being pulled towards it.”

  Hira didn’t fully understand, but a smug smile crept onto his face. He held his talwar with a mix of pride and reverence.

  “Of course, it’s special. This is my Shaktra family’s heirloom—passed down from patriarch to patriarch. Its name is Shaktra. They say it has existed for thousands of years, yet it has never rusted or dulled.”

  Grahn rolled his eyes while listening to his lecture, a faint spark of his usual tantrums returning. “Ugh… It’s just a sword. Stop being so dramatic.”

  A vein popped on Hira’s forehead. “Just a sword? This talwa-”

  “Enough!” Mokash intervened, his tone firm. “We’ve all had enough today. Let’s not fight.”

  “We can’t stay here; there’s barely any food, and it’s unsafe.” Mokash said as Hira and Grahn got silent. “We’re on the Pragjot continent now, so there’s bound to be a settlement deeper inland. We’ll start our journey tomorrow, first light.” Both the boys nodded their heads in agreement.

  Mokash continued, “Alright, you guys go to sleep. I’ll keep a watch, and after a while, we’ll switch.”

  As Mokash finished saying, Hira stretched his arms, “I don’t know if I can sleep on the ground here. I’ll try, though.” He said, annoyingly.

  Mokash watched Hira settle onto the ground, cuddling his dear talwar.

  A long, never-ending snore rattled out of his throat. “That’s fast!” Mokash exclaimed.

  He turned towards his brother, Grahn, who was staring at the fire solemnly.

  Mokash lightly patted his back, “It’s alright Grahn. The sun is bound to rise again.”

  Grahn looked toward Mokash, his face covered in hues of orange. A smile covered his lips.

  Under the silent canopy of stars, he found his sun— a beacon of light piercing the darkness.