"What happened?" asked Gavril.
"When we reached there, we found him on the brink of death." Joren said looking down, exhaling.
"Shit, so now we have no clue, nothing, tell me Kaavi at least you found something?" Gavril asked, looking towards Kaavi to get an answer.
"I found something, not much. But we have a small lead to follow."
Before Havlik had breathed his last, Kaavi had caught a glimpse … a fragmented memory etched into dying flesh. A hooded figure, the dagger a blur. No words. No mercy.
Memories that surged like black water…flashes of hushed meetings in candlelit rooms, a gloved hand sliding documents across a table, the metallic scent of ink and fear. And then, the face…*no, not a face*…just a shadow beneath a hood, a voice like gravel: *"You've served your purpose."* A blade, swift and final.
More important were the impressions left behind:
Four. Maybe five. Others, like him. Scattered through Branwyke. Hidden.
"Someone's tying up loose ends," Kaavi said, voice grim. "Either Havlik outlived his usefulness, or someone caught the scent of our hunt. In either case... we strike first, and fast together."
Viktor watched as Kaavi paced to the hearth, his shadow stretching long against the wall. The old man's silence was heavier than words.
Kaavi turned. "We stop waiting for the enemy to show themselves." His gaze swept the room, lingering on each face…Liran's hollow stare, Corren's coiled tension, Viktor's clenched fists. "We split into teams of two. Cover more ground, and hunt them simultaneously."
"We move in one hour."
Joren nodded. "Tannic and Corren, scout the eastern barracks. Liran and Veyl, the docks. Gavril..."
"Viktor will stay with me" Kaavi interrupted. His voice left no room for argument.
Joren studied him for a beat, then dipped his chin. "Alright, everyone move fast. Stay unseen."
The Hollow Swords dispersed, gathering weapons, checking straps.
Viktor hesitated, then stepped forward. "Why me with you?"
Kaavi's hand settled on his shoulder. "Because it's time you learned how to hunt."
B r a n w y k e
The world was strangely quiet atop Branwyke's lone clocktower.
A cold wind swept through its hollow arches, rattling the iron hands.
The city's veins glimmered with thin, golden threads of lamplight, weaving through alleys, streets, and courtyards.
Branwyke's old clocktower stood in the town's heart…its iron hands frozen at 2:14, its chimes long silenced by rust. From its peak, Kaavi and Viktor watched the town below, cloaked in evening mist. Lanterns blinked in windows like weary stars, and smoke drifted from chimneys in curling ribbons.
Kaavi now sat cross-legged at the edge of the balcony; his breath steady.
Viktor knelt beside him; hood pulled low, green eyes reflecting the dull gold of lantern-light. The air smelled of soot and frost.
"Do you know why we're up here?" Kaavi asked, voice quiet.
"To find them," Viktor replied. "The ones Havlik remembered."
Kaavi nodded. "Yes, there are too many to hunt one by one. If we take out one, the rest may scatter like vermin. But if we strike all at once…"
"No trail. No warning."
"Exactly."
Kaavi's fingers twitched slightly as he closed his eyes again. "And to do that, we need to find them. All of them. Without making a sound."
Kaavi's voice, low but calm.
"Now, listen carefully, Viktor."
The boy, now sitting cross-legged beside him, turned his scarred face toward his mentor.
Emerald eyes gleamed with a restrained excitement and a growing burden of responsibility.
Kaavi inhaled deeply, letting the night's stillness settle inside him.
"The mind," he said, tapping Viktor's forehead lightly,
"Sees too much and yet not enough. We drown in noise, but true warriors learn to feel the disturbance."
He gestured outward, over the city.
"Imagine a vast, still lake. And you are at its very centre. Every living thing every step, breath, thought … is a ripple. Focus too wide or too narrow, and you miss the ripples."
Viktor frowned in concentration.
Kaavi smiled slightly.
"To see, first you must unsee. I will lend you, my sight. Watch carefully."
In the lake, each living soul glowed faintly, like stars beneath water…soft pulses of colour, constant and calm.
Each person emits energy. Most are steady…blue, green, some gold. Harmonious. Ordinary.
They hide well, Kaavi thought. But this technique catches what sight cannot.
Viktor tried to look closer, but his mental vision blurred. His breath faltered.
"Don't force it," Kaavi said aloud, gently breaking the link. "It's not yours to use yet. Only observe."
Viktor pulled back, panting. "What… what is it called?"
Kaavi paused. "My people called it Naimisha-vritti. The Ripple of Stillness. It means perceiving the world not by its noise—but by the absence of it."
"Naimisha-vritti," Viktor repeated, the word strange and heavy in his mouth.
{The word (Naimisha-vritti) is a compound Sanskrit term with deep philosophical and spiritual significance.
Meaning- "a state of mind focused on spiritual pursuits"
Or
"Withdrawal from distractions to attain higher knowledge.
*It represents a disciplined, meditative mindset akin to the focused atmosphere of Naimisha Forest, where sages engaged in deep contemplation.}
Kaavi. "When mastered, you can walk or run while using it. Fight while seeing. But I haven't reached that yet. And the higher you are, the farther the ripples go. That's why we're here."
He placed a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "You'll learn. For now, you assist. Watch with me. Listen."
He reached out, palm brushing Viktor's brow with his fingers.
A shiver ran down Viktor's spine as Kaavi's mind opened like an unfolding map …
and suddenly, the world beneath them changed.
Gone were the crooked roofs and sputtering lamps.
Instead, an endless dark surface stretched below … vast, smooth, untouched.
An invisible, glassy lake cradled the entire town.
Within that lake, vibrant ripples flared where life stirred …
citizens walking the streets, merchants closing shop, lovers huddling in alleys.
Each pulse of energy shimmered faintly a signature.
It hit him like a wave. A rush not of thought, but of perception. Through Kaavi's eyes, the town unfolded in silence and colour. Not as a map, not as streets and alleys, but as a boundless, black lake still, vast, and echoing.
Kaavi ignored the ordinary. His gaze sharpened, diving deeper.
"Try to feel the pattern, son." Kaavi's thought-voice whispered.
"Most ripples move with the natural current. But a foreign hand stirs the pond differently. Anomalies leave scars."
Viktor nodded. Below, the night stirred.
Then Viktor saw it.
A ripple.