Chapter 14 – The Mark of the Dark River
Dawn broke silently in the dark forest.
Mist lay low among the towering trees, and the forest seemed to hold its breath. The path leading to the dark forest fortress gleamed with frost, each step echoing softly on the stones and roots. I could feel the weight of the place even before I saw it the gravitational pull of history pressing in.
This fortress was not built to impress.
It was built to endure.
Carved from dark stone and grown together with ancient trees, it didn't look like a building, but like a living creation. Roots snaked around the walls. Moss and time clung to every surface. This was not a center of power built to shine.
This was a place built to contain something.
As the first light of the morning sun touched the tops of the eastern trees, the ritual of recording began.
I was led into the inner courtyard, a circular space open to the sky. In its center stood the Nagam Peedam (Serpent Altar) a stone platform in the shape of a coiled serpent. Before it, the statue of the water serpent, the spirit-serpent of the Dark River lineage, rose majestically. Water flowed ceaselessly from its open mouth, cascading into a shallow basin inscribed with ancient symbols.
The sound of the flowing water filled the air, steady and rhythmic.
It calmed my breath.
Around the courtyard, the elders of the dark forest were silently gathered. Some wore black robes woven with symbols of shadow and river currents. Others bore scars marks of silently fought battles, symbols of victories never recorded.
No one spoke aloud.
This was not a ritual for sound.
At the first signal, the ceremony began.
Offerings were placed before the Naga statue grains, fruits, herbs soaked in the essence of the river. Then came the animal sacrifices. Goats and chickens, raised specifically for this purpose, were sacrificed with sacred reverence. Their blood was collected, poured into a basin, and mixed with the flowing water. There was no cruelty in the act, only acknowledgment—a life given to acknowledge the power of life.
I did not avert my gaze.
I understood its meaning.
At a nearby stone altar, an elder took vermilion and turmeric, grinding them together with sacred oil to make a thick paste. The mixture glowed faintly in the early morning light, red and gold intertwined. One by one, the symbols were drawn on the statue, on the stone, and finally, on my forehead and chest.
The paste felt cool on my skin.
Heavy.
As if it carried memories.
I was led to kneel before the flowing water. My bare feet touched the cool stone, and I felt the river's presence through the earth. As instructed, I closed my eyes and began to breathe slowly; the Aanmeegam calmed my thoughts, the lotus path grounding the darkness within me.
The elders fell silent.
The forest listened.
Now came the moment of truth.
If the spirit animal did not respond, the ritual would fail.
If that vibration rejected me, my claim would end here.
Time stretched on. The water continued to flow.
Then
The surface of the reservoir stirred.
Not by the wind.
Not by a tremor.
The flowing water parted slowly, as if acknowledging an invisible presence. A stillness settled over the courtyard. I felt it before I saw it a pressure, focused and sharp, coiling inward.
A white serpent emerged from above the stream.
Its scales gleamed like moonlight on the water, pure and unblemished. It did not rise aggressively, nor did it strike. It moved its body slowly, with deliberate grace, floating above the current. Its eyes, ancient and incomprehensible, were fixed on me.
The water serpent had answered.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
I did not move.
I instinctively raised my hands, my fingers forming the ancient mudras taught to me by the Divine symbols of respect, humility, and balance. My breathing deepened as I entered full meditation, allowing my consciousness to open without resistance.
The darkness stirred.
The water flowed.
The serpent descended.
It circled me once, twice, its presence cool and calm. I felt it examining me not my body, but my intent. My past. My alignment. The grey world within my sight trembled slightly, then settled as the water's gravity responded.
The serpent stood before me.
In my left hand, a
A warmth spread.
Suddenly. Intensely.
Pain followed but it wasn't destructive. It burned like a cauterizing iron, precise and purposeful. As the energy surged into my palm, I refused to cry out, clenching my teeth.
Light erupted. As the sensation faded, I opened my eyes.
On my left hand, as if branded by living ink, a symbol of the dark river was etched into my skin a coiled serpent intertwined with lines of flowing water and shadows. The mark pulsed slowly, alive with spiritual energy.
The white serpent raised its head.
Then, slowly, it dissolved into the flowing water, vanishing as if nothing had happened, leaving the vessel undisturbed.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then
The entire courtyard erupted.
Cheers rose from the assembled clan—at first restrained, then uncontrollable. The elders bowed their heads. The warriors struck their staffs against the stone in a show of support. The dark forest had accepted its future.
I stood there.
I remained kneeling, my breathing steady, my heart pounding.
Finally, the High Priestess stepped forward. She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder; her touch was firm and grounding.
"The dark river acknowledges you," she said simply.
I looked at my marked hand.
The symbol glowed softly, then subsided, becoming a part of me.
Above us, the forest stirred. Deep down among the roots and shadows, somewhere, an ancient power shifted its awareness.
I had been registered.
Not just in mere records.
But in the soul as well.
The dark forest had spoken.
It had chosen me.