The Shadow Blossoms~ Saaya Malar

Chapter 8

The mist clung to the village like a secret it refused to reveal. After a while of jogging, Anirudh slowed his pace, falling into step beside Saritha. Their steps moved in rhythm, but their thoughts were worlds apart. Anirudh stole occasional glances at Saritha—a girl who seemed utterly indifferent to his presence. It was a strange sensation for him. People usually fawned over him, the famous musician, but Saritha? She barely acknowledged his fame, her mind clearly elsewhere. This irritation gnawed at him, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why.

As they passed through the narrow lanes, the villagers' eyes followed them, their whispers crackling like dry leaves. Saritha felt their gazes burning into her back, a heavy, unsettling weight growing with each step. She pulled her shawl tighter around her, despite the warmth of the morning. Anirudh sensed her tension; her footsteps had quickened, her silence thick with unease. His own curiosity, which had begun as a quiet hum, now roared inside him.

Turning down an unfamiliar path, the lane narrowed and then spilled out into a vast, dusty brown expanse. The landscape here was starkly different—barren and dry, as if forgotten by time itself. Faint sounds of shouting and laughter cut through the eerie quiet, drawing them toward a group of men wrestling near a large storage shelter surrounded by trucks. Their rough play had a primal intensity, a raw display of energy.

Anirudh raised an eyebrow. "What's going on over there?"

Saritha didn't answer immediately. Her gaze was fixed on one man who stood apart from the chaos. He watched the wrestling with an air of authority, his presence magnetic and unsettling. His bare torso glistened under the sun, each muscle moving with purpose beneath his smooth, sun-kissed skin. He radiated an aura of raw power, as if he could join the fray and dominate at any moment.

Anirudh squinted. "Who is that?"

Saritha's pulse quickened as she recognized him. Though she didn't know his name, his face was unforgettable. The air around him seemed to thrum with power, and even though he hadn't noticed them yet, her fear was palpable. His stance was confident, his dark eyes gleaming with intensity, and his long, untamed hair was pulled back loosely, a few strands falling over his brow. His sharp jawline and thin lips added to his dangerous allure.

"Lost, are we?" His voice was deep and smooth, with an unsettling edge. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes never leaving Saritha's. "Or perhaps... not quite as lost as you think?"

Saritha felt a shiver crawl up her spine. "Who are you?" she asked, though his presence had already answered part of the question.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Names don't matter much here," he said, "but since you asked—Raja Rahul Rayar." He glanced at Anirudh, then back to Saritha, as though the musician was of little consequence. "The Rayars have long watched over this land. We know everything and everyone who walks on it."

Anirudh shifted uncomfortably, feeling the dismissal in Rahul's tone. He cleared his throat, stepping forward. " We're just passing through."

Rahul's dark eyes flicked to Anirudh with a brief, disinterested glance. "And who might you be?"

The question hung in the air like a sharp-edged blade, and Anirudh felt a flare of irritation. Did this man not know who he was?

"I'm Anirudh," he said, a touch of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Anirudh Ravichander, a musician." He paused, waiting for the flicker of recognition in Rahul's eyes. But it never came.

Rahul's gaze remained cool, unreadable. "A musician?" He repeated the word as though it held no significance. His attention then shifted back to Saritha, as if Anirudh's fame was mere background noise. "And you... you're not here by accident, are you? The Mangaiyar blood flows through you. You're more tied to this village than you might want to admit."