Aryavardhan had only been submerged for a few minutes when a young woman emerged from the treeline. Her eyes immediately locked onto the foreign armor and fine silks resting beneath the banyan tree. Sensing an intruder, she didn't hesitate; she notched an arrow to her bow, the string taut and humming with tension, and aimed it squarely at the center of the lake. She waited with the stillness of a predator. As the sun climbed to its zenith, casting no shadows in the bright midday heat, Aryavardhan finally broke the surface. He waded toward the shore, the water cascading off