The morning sun barely filtered through the thick forest canopy, casting soft patches of light on the ground as Vajra sat with the tribal man. His body was still, but his mind was racing, questions swirling around him, unsettled by the encounter with VeerBhadra. The man's intensity, his fierce protectiveness of Aparajita, was unlike anything Vajra had encountered before. He couldn't shake the image of VeerBhadra's hardened gaze, nor the bitterness that lay behind it. It puzzled him—how could someone so powerful, so devoted to protecting a young girl, also harbor such deep emotion?

Vajra, still nursing the wounds from his clash with the liger, glanced toward the tribal man, who was staring into the trees, his thoughts seemingly distant.

"Tell me," Vajra began slowly, careful not to intrude too abruptly, "who exactly is VeerBhadra?"

The tribal man, who had been silent for a while, turned to Vajra, his eyes thoughtful. He seemed to weigh his words before speaking, as if the tale he was about to tell was a delicate one, requiring care.

"VeerBhadra..." the man sighed, his voice low, "he's a mystery, even to us."

Vajra's curiosity deepened. He knew there was more to the man than met the eye. The way VeerBhadra had looked at Aparajita with such reverence, such intensity—it went beyond mere duty.

"He's not like the rest of us," the tribal man continued, his voice heavy with respect. "He wasn't born into our tribe, you know. He came from the outside, many, many years ago. Some say nearly three decades."

Vajra frowned slightly. "Three decades? That long?"

The man nodded. "Rumors spread about him—about his past. They say he was once one of the finest students of Rishi Agastya himself."

Vajra's eyes widened in surprise. Rishi Agastya? His own guru? He hadn't expected to hear that. VeerBhadra, the man who had challenged him with such hostility, had once learned under the same roof as him, decades before.

"It's hard to believe, isn't it?" the man said with a small smile. "That someone who was once considered one of the finest warriors, one of Rishi Agastya's student, would dedicate his life to protecting someone else so completely."

Vajra nodded, his thoughts spinning. A great warrior... trained under Rishi Agastya... VeerBhadra's power had been palpable the moment they met. There was no doubt that he was a man of immense strength. But it was the depth of his devotion to Aparajita that perplexed Vajra.

"Why?" Vajra asked softly, almost to himself. "Why would a man with such power turn so soft-hearted? For someone so young?"

The tribal man sighed again, his expression growing thoughtful, almost tender. "VeerBhadra... he sees something in Aparajita. Something more than the rest of us see. To him, she's more than just a leader, more than just a protector of our people. She is... like a mother to him."

"A mother?" Vajra repeated, taken aback. "But she's so young... younger than even I."

"Yes," the man nodded, "but age doesn't always define a mother's love, does it? It's the spirit, the heart. Aparajita, she has that kind of heart—the heart that holds the whole world in it. VeerBhadra sees it in her. And he has sworn to protect her, to be her sword and shield."

Vajra fell silent, his mind racing with this new revelation. A great warrior, trained by one of the greatest rishis, had devoted himself so wholly to a girl who was still in her youth. But it wasn't power that held VeerBhadra's loyalty—it was something deeper. Something that Vajra himself was beginning to understand but couldn't yet fully grasp.

"Do you know much about his past?" Vajra asked after a long pause, still trying to piece together the puzzle that was VeerBhadra.

The tribal man shook his head. "Not much. We only know what little he's shared. He rarely speaks of it. But there are whispers... stories that he once lived a life of great renown, that he was respected across many lands. But something happened, something that made him leave that life behind."

"What was it?" Vajra asked, his curiosity piqued.

"No one knows for sure," the man replied, his voice growing softer. "But some say he suffered a great loss. Something that broke his spirit."

Vajra's brow furrowed, a flicker of empathy stirring within him. A great loss. He could understand how such a thing could change a man. Loss had a way of reshaping people, of bending them in ways they never expected.

"And now," the man continued, his voice growing steadier, "he has found that spirit again... in Aparajita. He's not just protecting her because of some vow. He protects her because, in a way, she gave him his life back. She healed something in him, something that had been broken for a long time."

Vajra fell silent again, absorbing the weight of the man's words. The more he heard, the more he realized that VeerBhadra's devotion to Aparajita wasn't just about protection—it was about love. A love that went beyond the physical, beyond the tangible. It was a love born of respect, of gratitude, of seeing something divine in another person.

He had seen that same spark in Aparajita, even in the short time he had known of her. There was something about her, something that made people give themselves over to her cause without hesitation. And now, Vajra could see why. She wasn't just a leader—she was something far more profound.

But still, a part of him remained perplexed. Could a man who had once been shaped by battle, by power, truly change so deeply? Could someone who had once walked the path of a warrior find peace in the service of another, especially someone as young as Aparajita?

The thought lingered in his mind as he stared into the distance, the soft rustle of the trees filling the silence. Perhaps, he thought, there was more to strength than what he had always believed. Perhaps, real strength wasn't just in power, or in victory, but in devotion. In compassion.

VeerBhadra had found something to live for again, something to protect beyond himself. And though Vajra couldn't fully understand it yet, he could sense that there was a wisdom in that—a kind of wisdom he was only just beginning to learn.

As the wind whispered through the trees, Vajra's heart stirred with a new understanding. VeerBhadra's journey was far from simple, and neither, it seemed, was his own.

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a few oil lamps scattered about. Aparajita lay still, her breathing steady but weak, her body wrapped in bandages from the fierce battle with the liger. Her face, though pale, still bore a quiet strength, the strength that had drawn so many to her cause.

VeerBhadra sat beside her, his powerful frame hunched over slightly, his eyes fixed on her with a mix of worry and relief. He had not left her side since she was brought back to the ashrama, unable to shake the fear that had gripped him when he first saw her wounds. She had faced death to protect the tribal man, a life she deemed worth saving, even at the cost of her own.

As her eyes fluttered open, VeerBhadra quickly wiped the wetness from his eyes, trying to mask the depth of his emotion. He composed himself, though his heart was still racing with relief. Seeing her awake, alive, was a blessing he had prayed for.

"Aparajita..." His voice was soft, but the edges of his words carried the weight of his emotion.

Her eyes, still adjusting to the dim light, slowly focused on him. She smiled softly, though her lips barely moved, her strength not yet fully returned. "Kaka..."

He scowled, his voice taking on a stern tone despite the tenderness in his heart. "What were you thinking?" he said, his voice a mixture of reprimand and concern. "Putting your life in danger like that? You know how reckless that was. You could've—" His words caught in his throat, unable to complete the thought of her loss.

Aparajita's smile widened ever so slightly, her eyes showing the warmth, respect and affection she held for him. "I couldn't let him die," she whispered, her voice still weak. "He needed help, Kaka. I did what I had to."

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he fought back his emotions. She always did this—always put herself in danger for others. It infuriated him, and yet he admired her for it. But this time... this time had been too close.

"You should've let someone else handle it," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "You're too important to us, to me, to risk your life like that."

Aparajita reached out with her hand, weak but steady, and placed it on his palm. "You know I can't do that," she said softly. "These people... they look to us for hope. For protection. If I don't stand up for them, who will?"

VeerBhadra lowered his head, his heart aching. She was right, of course. She always was. But it didn't make it any easier to watch her walk into danger time and again, risking everything for those she cared about.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I failed you. I should've been there sooner. I should've protected you."

Aparajita shook her head gently. "No, Kaka. You didn't fail me. I made my choice. And I would make it again."

The sincerity in her voice calmed him, though the guilt still weighed heavily on his chest. He looked at her with deep respect and affection, knowing that no matter how much he tried to protect her, she would always be the one who led with her heart, no matter the danger.

There was a brief silence between them, a shared understanding that didn't need words. Then, Aparajita's eyes flickered with curiosity, as if something had just crossed her mind. "Who... who saved me?"

VeerBhadra looked at her, his expression softening. "It was Narasimha," he said, his voice low but steady.

Aparajita blinked, the name sending a ripple of surprise through her. "Narasimha?" she repeated, as though the name held more meaning than she had initially realized.

VeerBhadra nodded. "Yes. The same Narasimha whose fame has spread through the villages and even into the ashrama. One of Gurudeva's finest students."

Aparajita's eyes widened slightly, her breath catching for a moment as the realization sunk in. Narasimha—the undefeated warrior, the one hailed as the most skilled archer of his generation, whose prowess was the talk of every village and forest settlement nearby. His compassion, they said, was as great as his strength. The boy who had earned the trust and love of everyone he met, despite his unassuming demeanor.

"And... he saved me?" Aparajita asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

VeerBhadra nodded again, his eyes serious. "Yes. You wouldn't be alive if not for him. He risked his life to stop that beast, and even when he could have killed it, he chose a different path. He sedated it, knowing that violence wasn't the answer."

Aparajita's heart stirred. She had heard of Narasimha, of course. Everyone had. But to think that the boy whose name had become synonymous with both might and kindness was the one who had pulled her from the jaws of death—it left her in awe.

"He's not just a warrior," VeerBhadra continued, his voice softening. "There's something... different about him. Something I didn't understand at first. But when I saw him, when I saw the way he looked at you after... I knew."

"Knew what?" Aparajita asked, her curiosity piqued.

VeerBhadra hesitated for a moment, then finally said, "I knew he was someone who fights not for glory, but for something far greater. Compassion ,humanity and duty."

Aparajita lay back against the bed, her mind swimming with this new revelation. She had been saved by the very boy whose strength and heart had captured the admiration of so many. And yet, she had never met him, never seen him with her own eyes.

"Narasimha..." she whispered, her heart filled with a new kind of reverence. To think that someone so powerful could also be so humble, so deeply compassionate—it was a rarity in the world of warriors. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the weight of the moment sink in. This boy, this warrior, now invaded her thoughts. And though she had yet to meet him properly, she could feel that their paths were meant to cross in ways she couldn't yet understand.

As she lay there, recovering, she felt a deep sense of gratitude—both for the life she still had and for the boy who had saved it. Narasimha. A name that now held far more meaning than it ever had before.

After a few days,

The morning sun filtered through the dense trees surrounding the ashrama, casting long shadows over the earthy grounds. There was a certain stillness in the air, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Vajra, though calm in appearance, could feel his heart beating steadily with an unfamiliar rhythm. He had waited days for this moment—Aparajita had recovered, and now, as she prepared to leave the ashrama, it was time for them to finally meet.

His thoughts had been filled with her ever since he learned her identity, ever since the tribal man had revealed the truth. Her bravery, her compassion, and her selflessness had deeply affected him. In his mind, she had become more than just a girl—she was an embodiment of strength unlike any he had ever known.

As he approached the small courtyard where she stood with VeerBhadra and Rishi Agastya, Vajra felt an odd mixture of emotions. He was the undefeated warrior, trained under one of the greatest sage of their time. And yet, at this moment, he felt a quiet humility—a recognition that this girl, though younger and physically scarred, had touched something within him far deeper than any battle ever had.

Aparajita stood at the edge of the courtyard, her figure slight but strong. She wore a simple light sandal-colored sari, her bandaged arms and faint scars visible beneath the fabric. Though her body had healed, the wounds of that fateful day with the liger remained etched into her skin. Her face was calm, but there was a quiet resilience in her eyes, a fire that had not been extinguished.

Vajra stopped a few feet away from her. His gaze softened as he took her in, noticing the depth in her eyes, the quiet strength she radiated even this moment. Agastya stood nearby, watching closely, his expression unreadable. VeerBhadra, though visibly protective, kept a silent distance, his eyes never leaving Aparajita.

For a moment, no one spoke. The air between them seemed to hum with the weight of unspoken words, of emotions that hadn't yet found their voice.

Finally, Vajra, who had faced countless foes on the battlefield, found himself hesitating. He had never been at a loss for words before, but this—this felt different.

He cleared his throat, his voice quiet but steady. "Aparajita..." he began, the sound of her name foreign on his tongue, yet carrying a weight of its own. "I—" He paused, unsure of how to express everything that he had been feeling. "I am honored to finally meet you."

Aparajita's gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if weighing his words, his presence. There was no immediate response from her, only a slight nod of acknowledgment. She had heard of Narasimha, the famed student of Rishi Agastya, the compassionate warrior who had saved her life. But she had not expected to meet him like this. Not face to face.

Her heart was guarded, and her mind, though grateful, was not easily swayed by heroism atleast she didn't want to accept it soon. She had seen too much in her life, fought too many battles of her own, to be easily impressed. But as she looked at Vajra, there was something different about him. He wasn't like the other warriors she had met—men whose strength was often shadowed by arrogance or hunger for power. Vajra's strength seemed to come from somewhere else, somewhere quieter.

"Thank you," she said finally, her voice low but clear. "For saving me."

Vajra shook his head slightly, his humility shining through. "I didn't save your life. You saved that man... you saved a part of humanity ; groups of people. Your courage is unlike anything I've ever seen."

Aparajita's didn't smile, though there was a quiet unreadable sadness in her eyes. "I did what I had to do. Just as you did." She glanced down at the bandage still wrapped around Vajra's arm, the result of the battle with the liger. "And you paid the price for it."

Vajra looked at the wound, then back at her. "A price worth paying," he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction. "If it meant saving you."

There was a silence between them, not uncomfortable, but filled with the unspoken understanding that both had risked their lives not for glory, but for something far greater. 

Aparajita's eyes flickered with recognition at his words. He understood her. He understood the kind of life she led, the choices she made. For a moment, the walls around her heart seemed to soften, but only for a brief second.

VeerBhadra, who had been standing silently beside her, shifted slightly, his protective nature kicking in. He still didn't trust Vajra, not fully. Despite the respect people had for Narasimha, VeerBhadra's loyalty to Aparajita made him wary of anyone who might threaten her peace, even if unintentionally.

"She is strong," VeerBhadra said, his voice firm as he glanced at Vajra. "She didn't need saving."

A slight tension hung in the air, and Agastya, sensing it, shot a quick glance at his friend. But Vajra remained calm. He wasn't one to be drawn into challenges or tests of ego.

"I know," Vajra replied evenly, meeting VeerBhadra's gaze without flinching. "She didn't. But sometimes, even the strongest among us need help. It doesn't take away from their strength."

There was a quiet truth in Vajra's words, and Aparajita could feel it. She looked at him, truly looked at him this time, and in his eyes, she saw something she hadn't expected—humility. There was no arrogance, no desire for recognition. Only a deep understanding of the world they both lived in. A world where even the strongest warriors could fall, where compassion wasn't a weakness but a source of immense power.

For the first time since they met, Aparajita's gaze softened slightly. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, something that told Vajra she recognized the truth in his words.

"You're right," Aparajita said softly, her voice steady but less guarded. "Sometimes, we do need help."

Vajra's expression remained calm, but something shifted within him. This was a connection he hadn't expected, a shared understanding that went deeper than words. And as he stood there, looking at Aparajita, he knew that this moment, this meeting, was the beginning of something significant. Something neither of them could yet fully understand.

"I hope our paths cross again," Vajra said,joining his palms together.

Aparajita held his gaze for a moment longer before giving a faint nod along with joining her palms together. "Perhaps they will. And you, Narasimha, are unlike any warrior I've ever known."

Vajra was stunned but added almost immediately , "You are unlike anyone I've ever met." 

As she turned to leave with VeerBhadra by her side, Vajra looked on. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the moment between them felt like the beginning of something new—something that would shape not just their futures, but the lives of all those around them.

Agastya, standing in quiet observation, knew it too. He saw the way Vajra's eyes had softened, the way Aparajita's presence seemed to bring out a different side of his friend. And though he had always admired Vajra's strength, in this moment, he admired something far greater—the depth of his heart.

To be continued...

Surprise because it's my birthday eve and I wanted to give something out to my readers. 

We just have a few chapters before heading back to Dwarka. 

But their journey is beginning. The chapters ahead will have lot of twists and turns. 

Hopefully keeps you all engaded. 

Target - 80 votes

Will update once the target on the both the chapters - 32 & 33 is completed.

Please do leave your votes and comments !