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Chapter 28
The Questions of Ash and Fire
The wind screamed across the frozen slopes of the Himalayas like an angry spirit that refused to rest. Snowflakes danced slowly through the air—soft and white—like lost souls searching for a home. The cold bit deep into Suyodhana's skin, yet he stood completely still, his boots planted firmly in the snow. His heart beat steady and strong inside his chest.
Right in front of him stood the ash-covered wise man whose dark eyes had just spoken a name that no one in these mountains should have known.
"Welcome… Aditya."
For a long moment, Suyodhana said nothing.
His fingers slowly moved to the small silver charm tied around his wrist—the little flame Bhanumati had given him before he left. He rubbed it gently with his thumb, feeling its warmth against the freezing air. It reminded him of her smile, her fierce eyes, and the promise he had made to come back whole.
That single touch gave him strength.
He was not just a prince on a quest.
He was a man carrying two lives inside one body.
And he could not fail now.
The wise man watched him with quiet amusement, a small smile playing on his ash-covered lips. Behind him, several other wise men sat motionless in deep meditation. Their bodies were completely covered in gray ash, and their long, matted hair hung down like thick ropes over their shoulders. Some sat beside small fires that burned steadily even in the biting wind, the flames flickering softly as if they had a life of their own.
The air around them felt thick and ancient, as if the mountains themselves were listening to every word and breath.
Finally, Suyodhana spoke. His voice was calm, though his heart raced a little.
"You know my name."
The wise man smiled faintly.
"We know many names. Some belong to the body. Some belong to the soul. You carry both."
Suyodhana did not try to deny it.
There was no point.
These men saw things others could not.
He bowed his head with respect, the snow crunching softly under his knees for a moment.
"I seek the Herb of Living Light—the one that can bring light back to blind eyes and lift heavy shadows from an entire family line."
The wise man let out a soft laugh. The sound echoed strangely through the quiet valley, bouncing off the snow-covered rocks.
"Every person who reaches these high mountains says the same thing. They all want the herb. Very few ever leave with it in their hands."
The wise man slowly stood up.
His old bones made soft cracking sounds as he stretched his tall, thin body. He looked strong in a quiet way, like a tree that had survived a thousand storms.
He pointed his wooden staff toward the tall northern peaks that disappeared into the clouds.
"You cannot simply walk into the Himalayas and pick divine herbs like flowers in a garden. The path ahead is not an easy road. It is a series of gates. Each gate opens only for those who truly understand the balance of this world."
Then the wise man looked straight into Suyodhana's eyes.
His gaze felt like it could see every secret hidden inside him.
"So before you walk any further… we ask you questions."
Suyodhana felt a quiet thrill mixed with nervousness.
This was not a test of strength or weapons.
It was a test of the heart and mind.
He thought of the mirror he had faced back in the ashram—the long talk with his own shadow self—and he knew he had to answer from the deepest part of who he was now.
Not just as a prince.
But as the man who had lived another life before this one.
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The first question came quickly.
The wise man stepped closer until he was only a few feet away. His dark eyes burned with a strange, calm fire.
"Tell me, Aditya. Who owns this world?"
The question hung in the cold air like a challenge.
Suyodhana frowned slightly.
The answer seemed simple at first.
But he remembered everything he had learned on this journey.
Nothing here was ever simple.
He thought about the palace, the villages, the people he had helped, and the bigger picture the mirror had shown him.
He answered slowly and honestly.
"No one owns the world. It belongs to the balance of life itself. Every tree, every river, every person and creature has a place in it."
The wise man's smile grew a little wider.
"Good."
He asked the next question without pausing.
"What is stronger? Power… or destiny?"
Suyodhana took a moment to think. The wind tugged at his cloak, yet he stood firm.
"Neither," he said calmly.
"Power can change events in the moment. Destiny shapes the possibilities. But wisdom decides which path becomes real."
The wind suddenly grew calmer, as if the mountains were listening and nodding in agreement.
Behind the first wise man, one of the other meditating men slowly opened his eyes.
The test was not over yet.
"What is the greatest weakness of kings?" the wise man asked.
This time Suyodhana did not hesitate.
The answer came straight from his heart—from memories of the old stories, from his own mistakes in this life, and from the shadow-self he had faced in the mirror.
"Pride," he said clearly.
"Pride makes kings blind to the pain of their own people. It turns love into anger and turns brothers into enemies."
The wise man chuckled softly, the sound warm and approving.
"You answer like someone who has already seen the fall of kingdoms before."
Suyodhana stayed quiet.
He did not need to explain.
These men already understood more than words could say.
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The wise man began to circle around him slowly, his bare feet leaving light prints in the snow.
"Now tell me something more difficult."
"What do you think about demons?"
The word echoed across the valley.
Demons.
The creatures people had feared since the beginning of time.
Suyodhana looked up toward the endless white peaks. Snowflakes landed softly on his eyelashes.
He remembered the orphanage he had built.
The children saved from asura attacks.
The way Dushashan secretly helped the lost and the broken.
He thought about the bigger ripples the real Suyodhana had warned him about—the things that were supposed to come later but might arrive sooner because of his changes.
He answered from the heart, honest and clear.
"This world was not created only for humans. It belongs to every being that is born from existence. Humans call others demons because they fear what they do not understand."
He paused briefly.
"But many of those so-called demons protect nature better than kings protect their own kingdoms."
"Good and evil do not belong to any race."
"They belong to the choices each of us makes every single day."
The wise man stopped walking.
For the first time, the mysterious smile completely left his face.
In its place appeared something deeper and warmer.
Real respect.
Behind him, the other wise men slowly rose to their feet, one by one.
The whole valley felt different now.
As if the mountains themselves had breathed out a long sigh of approval.
The air felt lighter.
Almost friendly.
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The lead wise man nodded slowly.
"Very well. You may walk the path."
He pointed his staff toward a narrow valley hidden between two giant cliffs. The path looked dark and mysterious, swallowed by shadows.
"The Herb of Living Light grows beyond those mountains. But no human can reach it by walking straight to it."
"There are guardians waiting."
"Old ones who lived in these mountains long before any kingdoms existed."
"You must pass through their land."
"Not by fighting them or killing them… but by earning their trust and acknowledgment."
Suyodhana's eyes sharpened with focus.
"Demons?" he asked quietly.
The wise man nodded.
"Old ones."
"If they see the truth in your spirit, they will let you continue."
"If they reject you… the mountains will become your final resting place."
Another wise man stepped forward, his voice low and serious.
"And even if you pass them, there is still the final gate."
"You must meet Nandi Maharaj."
The name alone made the air feel sacred and heavy.
Nandi—the great divine guardian of Lord Shiva himself.
"You cannot approach the sacred herb without his permission," the wise man continued.
"He guards the paths that lead to Kailasa."
"If he rejects you… even the gods will not be able to help you."
Suyodhana took a slow, deep breath.
The cold air filled his lungs and cleared his mind.
He thought of his father's sightless eyes.
Of Bhanumati waiting back in Kalinga.
Of his brothers training with Grandpa Rudrasadhi.
He thought of the greater destiny the real Suyodhana had hinted at—the storms that might come sooner because he was changing the story.
"I understand," he said quietly.
"I am ready."
The wise man stepped aside.
"The path is open."
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Without another word, Suyodhana began walking toward the narrow valley.
Snow crunched softly under his boots with every step.
The tall cliffs rose higher and higher around him, blocking out most of the sunlight.
Darkness slowly swallowed the path ahead.
The air grew even colder.
The wind seemed to whisper secrets he could not quite hear.
Then a deep growl echoed through the canyon.
It was low and powerful—like thunder rolling inside the earth.
Massive shadows moved along the cliffs above him.
Glowing eyes appeared in the darkness.
Bright.
Watchful.
Demons.
Ancient ones.
One stepped forward into the faint light.
Its body towered twice the height of a man, muscles like hard stone beneath dark skin. Sharp horns curved from its head, and its eyes burned with an inner fire.
The creature sniffed the cold air slowly, as if tasting Suyodhana's very soul.
Then it spoke in a voice like rolling thunder that shook the snow from the rocks.
"Human… what do you think about demons?"
Suyodhana did not reach for his weapon.
He stood tall and looked directly into the creature's burning eyes.
His heart was steady.
The silver charm on his wrist felt warm again—as if Bhanumati herself was standing beside him.
He answered honestly, the same words he had given the wise men.
"This world does not belong to humans alone."
"It belongs to everyone who walks upon it."
"Good and evil do not belong to any race."
"They belong to the choices each of us makes."
The demon studied him in complete silence.
The wind stopped blowing.
The mountains themselves seemed to hold their breath.
And slowly…
A deep smile spread across the demon's monstrous face.
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