"Don't lose me again."
Svod was quiet for a long time. Then he reached out and placed a hand on Adithya’s shoulder. The grip was firm. Fatherly. But younger.
The wind picked up. The city lights flickered.
No one knew where Svod came from. He wasn't a student, not a trainer. He was just… there. He was older, maybe thirty, with quiet eyes that held no judgment, only a deep, unwavering calm. He never spoke much, but when he did, his voice was a low current that cut through Adithya’s chaos.
Adithya Varma stood there, heart pounding. He looked down at his hands. They were no longer just fists. They were instruments of will.