The dawn broke cold and gray, the sun barely piercing the heavy clouds that hung low over the Magadhan camp. Tension hummed through the air like static—an invisible charge that made every soldier's skin prickle.
Ashvath stood near the edge of the encampment, eyes narrowing as messengers hurried past, their faces pale and voices hurried.
Suddenly, a figure approached—a scout, cloaked in dust and sweat, carrying news that shattered the fragile calm.
"The Kalingan spies have infiltrated our ranks," the scout whispered urgently. "They seek to sabotage our plans."
A hush fell over the commanders gathered nearby. Ashoka's face darkened, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.
"Who can we trust now?" Ashvath muttered under his breath.
---
The Shadow Within
Later, Ashvath and Sita convened in a small, dimly lit tent. The flickering flame of a single oil lamp cast long shadows across the walls.
"We must root out the traitors," Ashvath said grimly. "But if we accuse the wrong men, it could unravel everything."
Sita's eyes gleamed with determination. "I'll gather those loyal to us. We move carefully."
Their whispered plans were a dance of caution and urgency—every word measured, every step a risk.
---
Tensions Rise
Throughout the camp, suspicion took hold like wildfire. Old friendships strained under the weight of doubt, and every glance seemed to carry a hidden accusation.
Ashvath caught himself watching even his closest comrades, questioning loyalties he once took for granted.
One night, as rain pounded the tents, a messenger arrived with a coded letter—an ominous warning that the betrayal ran deeper than anyone imagined.
---
A Flicker of Doubt
Sita sat alone, staring into the flickering fire. Her thoughts were heavy with worry—not just for the war, but for Ashvath.
"Can I protect him if the enemy wears our faces?" she whispered.