“Amber Moons”

Chapter 1. A Feast of Hope and a Heart Unbound.

(Savitri's POV)

Perhaps love begins as a whisper in the soul, a gentle echo that grows more insistent with each passing moon. Mine began that way with Vasant—quiet, unassuming, yet as inevitable as the amber light that filtered through The Eye above our kingdom. I loved him for so long that the emotion had become a part of me, as natural as breathing, as constant as the slow drip of water forming stone in our sacred caves. For years, I had watched him move through life—his shoulders straight with pride, his magenta eyes sharp with ambition—while I stood in the shadows, loving him with a devotion that filled my chest like the sweetest pain imaginable.

I could pinpoint the exact moment my heart chose him, during our sixteenth summer, when I saw him standing alone by the singing waterfall, his face turned up toward the distant amber moon. There was something vulnerable in his profile then, something undiscovered and raw that stirred the Vega Tattva within me—that flow of intuition that our elders taught was tied to the waxing moon. I felt the resonance deep within my blood, a current that would forever connect me to him, though he remained oblivious.

Vasant, son of warriors, heir to a copper pauldron etched with the swirling sigil of his family's ancient lineage. How could I not love him? He moved through our kingdom with the easy confidence of a man destined for glory, his voice commanding attention without effort. Love was a "minor matter" to him, as he often scoffed when discussions of marriages and betrothals arose among our peers. I watched two of his arranged matches dissolve, neither woman able to penetrate the fortress of duty and ambition he'd constructed around his heart.

"A Rajasangha officer has no time for such frivolous emotions," he'd declared once, seated beside me at a feast, his eyes fixed on the carved ceiling rather than on my face. "My path is carved in service to our kingdom, not in the soft comforts of domestic life."

I'd nodded, swallowing the truth that burned in my throat. And yet, how easily I collected moments that contradicted his claims—the way his hand lingered on mine when passing a ceremonial cup, how his eyes softened when he thought I wasn't watching, the way he'd seek me out at gatherings even when surrounded by more influential companions. These small treasures I gathered and held close, a collection of possibilities too precious to expose to scrutiny.

I convinced myself, as the moons passed, that these fragments revealed his true heart—one that perhaps loved me in return but could not reconcile such emotion with his vision of himself. I became an expert in Vasant's expressions, the subtle shifts in his magenta gaze, the tension in his shoulders when another man approached me. Were these not signs? My heart insisted they were, even as my mind cautioned patience.

The night of the feast, I arrived at the clearing with my pulse beating wildly beneath my skin. The Cave Forest Clearing had been transformed with the artistry unique to our people. Glowing Chandralekha moss hung in delicate silver chains from the rock formations, complementing the natural shimmer of the cavern walls. Tables carved from ancient Rakta wood stood laden with steaming platters of cave-fish and Svar-rice, surrounded by our people in their finest attire. Through the ceiling opening, the amber moon poured its blessing upon us, aligning perfectly with the center of the clearing in a rare celestial gift.

My mother, Uma, had sensed my intention that morning, her wise green eyes narrowing as I selected my finest jamuni-dyed tunic and carefully arranged my hair.

"The heart knows its own timing," she'd said cryptically, pressing a small pouch of dried Ragini flowers into my palm. "But remember that not all souls awaken to love's call at once."

I should have heeded the warning in her words, the subtle vibration of Swara Tattva—that whisper of prophecy that our elders could perceive. Instead, I tucked the flowers into my sash, letting their faint sweet scent bolster my courage.

I found Vasant surrounded by his fellow officers, copper pauldrons gleaming in the ethereal light, their laughter bouncing off the curved ceiling of the clearing. He'd been drinking fermented cave-berry wine, his normally stern features softened by its effects. When he saw me, a smile broke across his face—warm, welcoming—and my heart soared with renewed certainty.

"Savitri," he called, gesturing me closer. "Come, join us. We were just discussing the new defense strategies against the Sun-Seared."

The conversation flowed around me, but I barely heard it. I was lost in the moment of planning, of gathering my fragile courage. The Ragini flowers at my waist seemed to pulse with warmth, their subtle magic aligning with the Ankura Tattva of growth and potential that filled the air under the full moon's glow. Surely this was the perfect alignment, the moment when my years of silent devotion would finally bear fruit.

When a lull fell in the conversation, I touched Vasant's arm gently, drawing him slightly away from his companions. My heart thundered against my ribs like the distant underground rivers during flood season.

"Vasant, there is something I must tell you," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "Something I've held in my heart for many years."

His magenta eyes fixed on me, curious but unguarded. The clearing around us seemed to fade, the sounds of celebration growing distant as I gathered all my love and formed it into words.

"I love you," I said simply, the truth rushing out like water finally breaking through stone. "Not as a childhood friend, but as a woman loves a man. I've loved you since we were sixteen summers old, through all your betrothals, through every triumph and defeat. I believe—I've seen evidence—that perhaps you might feel something for me as well?"

The last words lifted into a question, hopeful and tremulous. For one suspended heartbeat, the world held perfectly still. Then, Vasant's expression changed—confusion, followed by something that turned my blood to ice.

He laughed.