Night fell with uneasy silence over the Magadhan camp. Fires crackled, but no songs were sung. Soldiers cleaned blood from their armor in silence, eyes darting toward the treeline as if it could lunge at them.
Ashvath sat beside the fire, bandaged and silent, staring into the flames. Sita watched him from across the camp, concern in her eyes.
Ashoka arrived, draped in a dark shawl, footsteps quiet. No guards. Just the king and his warrior.
"May I sit?" he asked.
Ashvath nodded.
---
A Conversation Between Brothers
Ashoka lowered himself beside Ashvath. For a while, they said nothing.
Finally, Ashoka broke the silence.
"She almost killed you."
Ashvath didn't look away from the fire. "She wasn't trying to. Not yet."
"Then why strike at all?"
"She's not after Kalinga. She's after you."
Ashoka looked at his friend—no, his brother. "Or maybe... she's after us."
Ashvath turned sharply.
"I've been thinking," Ashoka continued, "about the prophecy. About the path I've taken. You've followed me through every shadow, never once for the crown. But have I begun walking a road you can no longer follow?"
Ashvath's voice was low. "You were once a man who wanted peace through power. Now, I fear... you want power at the cost of peace."
Silence.
The fire popped between them like a heartbeat.
Ashoka nodded. "If I fall to ambition, promise me you will stop me."
Ashvath's eyes met his. "Only if I must."
---
The Spy Revealed
In a nearby tent, a boy—no older than twelve—sat quietly before Devadatta, Ashoka's strategist.
"You've done well," Devadatta said, handing the child a small pouch of silver. "Return to your mistress. Tell her the plan moves ahead."
The boy nodded, and in the flickering candlelight, the mark of the Kalingan rebellion shimmered briefly on his wrist.
Unseen, unheard—one of many within Magadha's ranks.
---
Mokshara's Lair
Deep in the ruined temple in Kalinga's jungle, Mokshara pressed her bloodied shoulder against the stone altar. An old healer worked quietly, mixing salves.
Beside her stood a man cloaked in red, face hidden. He handed her a scroll.
"It's confirmed," he said. "There are loyalists to your cause inside Ashoka's camp. One of them sits near the throne."
Mokshara smiled through the pain. "Good. When the time is right, we won't strike the army."
She unrolled a map—Ashoka's war route.
"We'll strike the heart."
---
End of Chapter 13