Aarav watched from the high branches, his knuckles white against the rough bark. The caravan below was a serpent of steel and dust.
In the center, the prisoner stumbled. Every time the Rajput warrior slowed, a guard struck him. The man didn't scream; he only spat blood onto the dry earth.
Don’t do it, Aarav. You’re a coward. You have zero combat skills.
But then he saw the prisoner’s face. It wasn't just defiance; it was an agonizingly familiar nobility. If he let this man die, he was killing his only map to the Rana.
Aarav reached into his hoodie. He pulled out two industrial-grade Lithium-Polymer Cells.
He climbed down, circling the caravan to a narrow choke point. He found a small pool of rainwater trapped in a rock basin.
"Okay," he choked out. "In... out. Don't die."
He waited until the lead rider was directly below. He tipped the rock basin.
For three seconds, nothing happened. Aarav’s heart stopped. I messed up the math.
A violent, violet-blue eruption shattered the canyon. The lithium reacted with the water in a white-hot flash, igniting the pine needles. A wall of fire tumbled down onto the soldiers.
"THE WRATH OF THE MOUNTAIN!"
In the chaos, Aarav didn't stand up like a hero. He stayed low, crawling through the smoke like a lizard. He sliced the prisoner's ropes with his multi-tool.
"I’m a friend!" Aarav hissed. "Run! Now!"
They ran for two miles. Finally, the warrior stopped near a hidden spring. He looked at Aarav's strange clothes and the glowing embers on his sleeve.
"My name is Aarav," he gasped. "And I need to see Maharana Pratap."
The warrior's eyes narrowed. "I am Rawat Chundawat. And if you can truly command the violet fire, boy, then perhaps the stars haven't abandoned us after all."