Indrasen Sundav's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Indrasen cannot stay in the hut. The dream still hums under his skin. He walks before the sun has fully risen, following the pull of the song he heard in sleep. His bare feet press the cool earth. The trees thin. Water glimmers ahead. He has never seen this lake, yet he knows its shape. A woman stands at the shore in a white sari. She holds a small clay lamp, its flame steady against the morning mist. She is singing. The song is the same. Lily pads float near her feet, and on one of them rests a single pink lotus, fresh, as if placed there moments ago. A tall guard waits behind her, spear grounded, eyes sharp on Indrasen as he steps forward. The guard moves to block him. The woman lifts a hand. "Let him come," she says. Her voice does not waver. Indrasen walks the last steps. He places his hand on her shoulder. She turns. Her eyes find his face and break open. She knows him. He can see it in the way her mouth trembles around a word she has carried for years. "My son," she whispers. She lifts the lamp between them. "Twelve years. I never let the flame die." The guard's voice is low and certain behind her. "Twelve years I have guarded her search. It ends today." Indrasen's knees feel loose. He does not remember her face. He does not remember being anyone's son. But the lotus on the lily pad was set there for him. The song was sung for him. He came when called. Something inside him answers her before his mind can. He does not know who he is yet. But he knows, now, that he was lost — and that someone has been waiting.