The shop had settled into an almost reverent silence.
Even the incense seemed to burn slower now, curled in smoky ribbons above bowls etched with script too old for a casual glance. Rohini remained still,gaze shifting between the snake and the man, who watched her like a page half-turned.
"Umbraja" Came the hiss.
Rohini blinked.
"You asked," The serpent said, coiled atop its perch, pale scales iridescent under the flickering candlelight. "That is the name you may use."
"Sarun" The man added.
"Is what you may call me as well."
Rohini's lips parted in the shape of another question, but Sarun moved before she spoke-his fingers trailing along his shops shelves,as if reacquainting himself with something long held dormant.
"You don't hear snakes unless they want to be heard," he said. "And this one has been silent for years."
Rohini didn't need to ask why now? She already knew the answer.
Sarun turned towards her slowly, eyes catching on her family ring.
His voice was quiet. "You carry your bloodline well."
A pause before-
"But I do not know your name.Who are you, girl?"
Rohini watched him for a long moment. She wasn't in the habit of offering truths freely-but there was something in the way he stood,hands behind his back,gaze steady, that reminded her of old family stories. Of men who remembered more than they said. Of the ones who once walked with serpents and silence.
"Rohini," she concluded. "Rohini Sharvara"
His brow lifted-not in surprise,but something closer to recognition. Or perhaps memory.
"Sharvara.." he repeated, slowly, as if testing the name. "I knew of your grandfather, your family… they kept to the old paths. Wove serpents into their life, as if they were one."
Umbraja hissed softly near the two, almost pleased
Rohini said nothing.
But then his next words came soft,measured.
"You are not just a Zinari-Born."
It wasn't a question. Not quite.
She studied him,head tilted, then let the air shimmer faintly around her-just enough to let the glint of the silver bangs to seem unnatural.Just enough to let her serpent-eyes gleam in the shops low light,
'No illusions,"She echoed her father's words from the morning, the tip of her tongue faintly flickering, as if tasting the air. "This is me. As fluid as ever."
Sarun's mouth curved into something like a smile. Not warm, but knowing.
"Ruparin."
Then he nods, slow and deliberate
"No wonder Umbraja broke their silence," He said "Perhaps they were waiting for someone who remembered what It means to listen.
Umbraja coiled tighter around their perch, eyes gleaming with faint amusement.
"I wasn't waiting," they hissed, a ribbon like voice, filling the room with sly humor. "But it's been dreadfully dull, and you've got sharp ears."
A forked tongue pauses, then flickered. "Do not mistake my words for loyalty, little serpent I am no one's to keep"
Rohini arched a brow, gaze landing towards Umbraja.
Careful," she hissed with a dry tone "Keep talking like that, and I might mistake you for royalty."
The snake gave a soundless chuckle-if such thing was possible-a subtle coil of amusement in the flick of its tail.
Sarun made a half-laugh, already walking deeper into the shelves with a unspoken invitation
"They,ve been treated as such before," he continued, "though I wouldn't advise bowing."
Rohini followed, her steps measured. "No? Would it offend them?"
"It would encourage them," Sarun replied, glancing over his shoulder with a glint of mischief. "And I imagine you've already got your hands full with your own power."
She let that hang in the air for a beat, then said more softly, "Still. It's not every day I meet another Zinari-born."
Her eyes flicked toward Umbraja again. "And never one with a serpent who speaks."
Her hand brushed the pendant at her collar—a silver snake on black thread, suddenly feeling more like a question than a symbol.
"I've always felt…" she hesitated, rare for her. "Drawn to them. My family wove their stories into our blood, but I've never had one of my own."
Sarun stopped at a shelf lined with aged scrolls and faded carvings. "Most don't. Not truly. They come when they will. And only to those who still remember how to listen."
Rohini's voice dropped to a murmur. "Where do they come from?"
"Old places," Sarun said, running his fingers over a small bowl carved with curling serpents. "Older than language. Some say they sleep beneath ruins, others believe they're born of magic that remembers itself."
Umbraja stirred slightly. "We are not summoned. We appear when it is time."
"To be chosen by one," Sarun added, "is not a matter of spells. It's a mirror. You see yourself in them—and if they see something worth answering… they answer."
Rohini said nothing, but something in her spine straightened.
"Perhaps it's a sign" she murmured, more to herself than to either of them.
And deep down, she'd always known.