The moment Kiran and Aarya crested the hill, the landscape below was stark, imposing—a kingdom carved out of the earth itself, its jagged edges punctuated by sharp peaks and valleys. A grand fortress, half-veiled in mist and shadows, loomed in the distance. It seemed otherworldly, ancient—yet it hummed with an energy that felt very much alive.
As they descended, the wind seemed to grow heavier, charged with a static energy that crawled under Aarya's skin. Her breath hitched as her senses sharpened. It was as though the land itself knew she was there, knew who she was, before she even understood it herself. Her chest tightened, and a pulse of warmth rippled through her skin, flaring as she instinctively reached for the pouch holding the obsidian stones. The world felt… charged. The air felt thick, like the earth itself was holding its breath.
Kiran, walking just ahead of her, shifted his shoulders. His eyes, narrowed and sharp, scanned the path ahead, but there was something in his stance that shifted, the air of confidence slightly flickering. She caught a glimpse of the faintest edge of unease in his posture, his usual arrogance tempered with uncertainty. His gaze flickered to the sky, and for a moment, Aarya thought she saw a flash of unease in his expression before he masked it.
Suddenly, without warning, his voice rang out, cutting through the heavy air. "They're awake."
Aarya froze.
"Who?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. She felt the ground beneath her pulse as though they were waking, too.
His jaw clenched. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he began to move faster, pushing through the thick underbrush. Aarya followed, her body stiff with nerves, her heartbeat quickening.
And then, she felt it. Them.
A whisper, at first—a hum of something distant, barely perceptible, yet undeniably present. But then it grew louder, more insistent, thrumming in her veins like a song she didn't know but that felt impossibly familiar.
She froze again, her chest tight, a whisper of a name rising to her lips.
Kiran.
He glanced back at her, his expression unreadable, his voice low and gravelly. "Stay close."
But Aarya could barely focus on him. The air, thick and pulsating, was alive with something she could feel—no, they could feel. The weight of their gazes, even unseen, pressed into her like a thousand invisible hands, clawing at her chest, at her soul.
They were here. They could sense her.
Aarya's heart raced.
A low hum pulsed through the clearing, vibrating in the very air around them. The ten warriors—giants of flesh and power, clad in remnants of battle-worn armor and fur—stood in a semicircle, surrounding the trembling figure of Aarya. Their skin glowed faintly under the twin moons' dim light, veins of bioluminescent energy dancing across their muscular frames like celestial rivers.
Aarya stood frozen, the three obsidian stones still clutched tightly to her chest, their heat now seeping into her bloodstream, pulsing with something ancient—something alive. Her body glowed faintly, in patterns she could not decipher, her breaths shallow as her wide eyes took in the ten beings that loomed before her.
Kiran stood closest, his broad body protectively in front of her, his expression torn between awe and confusion. The others—taller, darker, more fearsome—seemed equally entranced and disturbed by her presence. Their eyes—some glowing gold, some silver, some like molten obsidian—burned into her.
Then the eldest stepped forward.
He was massive. Larger than the others, his long silvery-black hair braided in heavy cords down his back. His presence was like a living storm. Silent. Watchful. Unrelenting.
He stared at her—not at her glow, not at the stones, not at Kiran—but at her face. Then, without bowing, without blinking, he lowered his head just a fraction.
"Devi," (Goddess) he murmured, the word rolling from his tongue with reverence and finality. "The hunger calls to you."
The others stiffened.
Aarya's lips parted, but no sound emerged.
The eldest straightened, eyes unreadable. "She is not a child," he said. "She is the Answer."
One of the others growled low. "But... there are no females left. None survived the Starfall. No one has felt the hunger ease in centuries."
The glow on Aarya's skin deepened. The stones in her grasp pulsed.
"She doesn't belong here," another said, voice almost breaking. "She came from the stars."
Kiran looked back at her, as if seeing her for the first time. Not as a fragile being needing protection—but as the flame they all had unknowingly circled.
"Why do I ache when I look at her?" one whispered.
"She is the center," said the eldest. "She does not soothe the hunger. She commands it."
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