Reina twisted the ring on her left ring finger. Again. And again.
Dozens of times she had tried to take it off—pulling, twisting, even biting it in frustration. But the ring remained firmly in place, as if it had become a part of her. The pale stone in the center of the dark gold band pulsed gently, as though breathing with her.
“Don’t bother. It won’t come off,” said Radeeva, lounging casually in the chair across from her.
Reina frowned. “What do you mean?”
“That’s the Cakra Adhiwara, the Ring of Spiritual Awakening,” he explained calmly. “It only appears when someone is bound by the Wadhita Arkanasya vow.”
“Wadhita… Arkanasya?” Reina repeated, stumbling over the unfamiliar words. “That incantation Bhirendra said that day?”
Radeeva nodded. “It’s not just any chant. In ancient Swantaran, Wadhita means bond, and Arkanasya means the unification of souls. So when that vow is spoken, your soul and the soul of the one who speaks it… become linked. Not in a romantic way,” he added quickly, noticing Reina’s face pale. “But as fated partners. Guardian and Guide. Two poles balancing a single great task: to restore this fractured world.”
Reina stared at the ring with growing dread. “So… Bhirendra and I…”
“You’ve been chosen,” Radeeva said lightly. “By a force older than any kingdom in Swantara.”
He rose and walked toward a large mural on the wall—a battlefield drenched in crimson. “And it’s not just the ring that has returned. The sword too…”
Reina watched him, waiting.
“Prabawa Samayoga. An ancient blade known as the Sword of Two Worlds. It has only appeared twice in our history.” He paused, inhaling deeply. “The first was during the Collapse of the First Light.”
“What happened?” Reina whispered.
Radeeva’s eyes darkened. “A dark era. Thousands of years ago, when the soul of Swantara’s guardian fractured for the first time. When the First People sacrificed themselves to delay the collapse of this dimension. We call it the First Sacrifice—a tragedy that led to the dispersal of ancient artifacts and the scattering of the Somo Stone’s core throughout the continent.”
He returned to his seat, now regarding Reina with a more solemn gaze. “Now, the sword has reappeared. And it chose Bhirendra.”
Reina swallowed hard. A dull throb bloomed at her temples. It was all too much. Too heavy.
As a researcher, Reina was used to data, logic, rationality. This invisible world was never her territory, even now—living in it, touching it, breathing it.
“Radeeva…” she murmured. “I don’t know whether to believe this is reality, or a vividly detailed nightmare.”
He offered a faint smile. “We all thought that once. But reality, Reina, doesn’t always make sense.”
A moment passed in silence. Only the soft clink of a plate brushed by wind filled the room.
Radeeva finally continued, voice lowered almost to a whisper, “You must help us reunite the fragments of the Somo Stone’s soul… and place it in the Earth’s Core, which we call the Nadi Swantara. Like it or not, that is the only way. Because if the mission fails…”
He met her eyes, his tone colder now. “…I don’t think you’ll ever return to your world. Not ever.”
Silence hung between them—not a calm stillness, but one that rang like an alarm in Reina’s mind. There was something behind Radeeva’s gaze. A flicker—brief as lightning—yet enough to raise goosebumps on her arms.
She realized then: no one in this world was simple. Not even the charming man before her.
And in the blink of an eye, everything changed.
Radeeva’s smile vanished, replaced by a sharp, feral expression. He snapped his head toward the door like a beast sensing danger.
Someone stood there. Broad-shouldered, cold-eyed, a faint glow in his irises.
Bhirendra.
Their gazes locked like two hounds who had long awaited the chance to strike.
“Get out,” Bhirendra hissed.
“Gladly,” Radeeva shot back, “after I make sure you don’t shred the girl to pieces first.”
Then they clashed.
Radeeva’s punch nearly caught Bhirendra’s jaw, but the sharp-eyed man tilted his head, dodging with inhuman speed. Magic blasts struck the walls and table, scattering dust and toppling candles. A chair flew. A vase shattered. The air filled with roaring heat as the two men fought like Reina wasn’t even there.
She froze at first—paralyzed by fear and shock. Then panic overtook her.
Her eyes darted to find an escape, and landed on the tall window, its curtain fluttering.
She ran. No thinking. No hesitation. Only one instinct left: get out—or die with these lunatics.
Heart hammering in her throat, she flung the window open and looked down.
High. Terrifyingly high.
But not as dangerous as the chaos behind her.
She jumped.
Screams echoed in the garden below. A loud crash, snapping branches, and gasps filled the air.
The fight stopped. Both men rushed to the window.
Reina dangled from two large branches, her body twisted like a broken puppet. Her hair was a mess, her dress torn, and her face… full of leaves.
Radeeva doubled over with laughter, his voice cracking like a child seeing a clown trip. “By the stars… she jumped?! Instead of hiding under the table?!”
Bhirendra didn’t laugh. He leapt from the window, landing silently on the branch and helping the tangled Reina, who looked more like lost laundry than a person.
“Stop wriggling—you’ll get more stuck,” he grumbled, half annoyed, half concerned.
“I know that!” Reina snapped back.
After some grumbling and effort, she finally made it down safely. She looked at the two men, took a deep breath, and pointed at them both.
“You…” she said through clenched teeth. “You two are the most unbearable, hot-headed creatures I’ve ever met!”
Radeeva only laughed harder. Bhirendra turned his face away, hiding an expression that was equal parts frustration, relief, and perhaps a little shame at having lost control.
But beneath all the madness, one truth settled deep in Reina’s chest—this world was insane.
And she was already too deep in to walk away.