The air between them was thick with more than just the dust of battle; it was heavy with a history only the two of them understood. Aryavardhana let his sword slip from his grip. It hit the earth with a hollow thud, a silent plea for the violence to end. He reached out a hand toward Krishnapriya, an unspoken bridge offered across the carnage. For a heartbeat, she wavered, lowering her guard and settling into her stance. But as Aryavardhana turned his back to walk toward the stillness of the lake, the fragile truce shattered. Krishnapriya couldn’t let him reach