"A serpent does not speak in one voice. It sings in seven, and lies in all."
---
The swamp gave way to a road long forgotten.
Carved into obsidian rock, the path wound like a scar across the belly of the dying earth. On either side, petrified trees loomed—twisted by time, each branch shaped like tongues reaching for the sky, but choked by silence.
Asma-Ra walked alone.
The crow—Kaaki's last whisper—still perched upon his shoulder, mute and watchful. Every step felt heavier than the last. His chest burned with the names he had taken: the Fire, the Forgotten, the Feathered. The Ashvattha marked him deeper with each passing day.
But this place… this was different.
A voice echoed.
No—not one voice.
Seven. All at once.
> "Ash-born. Flame-sworn. Root-bearer. Do you seek the Serpent's Blessing?"
Asma-Ra stopped. The air thickened. Before him, the path split into seven mouths, each shaped like a gate of fangs, each guarded by a monk whose face was veiled and whose tongue hung cut and rotting from their mouth.
The crow hissed softly.
"These are the Gates of Vasuki," it whispered, for the first time. "You must walk one. Only one. But each has a cost."
Asma-Ra approached the central gate.
A monk stepped forward, offering him a bowl made of bone, filled with thick, black blood.
> "Speak the name you have forsaken."
Asma-Ra froze.
He knew what this was.
To walk the Serpent's path, he would have to abandon one of his names. One of the roots he had claimed. A part of himself.
The names trembled in his soul:
Asma-Ra — the name of fire, the name of birth.
Narakha — the name of death, the executioner's brand.
Kaaki — the name of shadow, the crow's burden.
Each held truth. Each held power.
To cast one away was to wound himself deeply.
He looked into the bowl.
And poured Kaaki's name into it.
Not out of hatred—but mercy.
The crow cawed once, then crumbled into ash.
The gate opened, revealing a temple carved into the coiled body of an ancient serpent. The walls writhed with motionless carvings—each tongue, a different script, a different lie. Inside, sat Vasuki—not in form, but in echo.
A whisper so ancient it made Asma-Ra's bones ache.
> "You are flame, yet you choose silence. You are death, yet you carry mercy. Tell me… do you seek to kill the Tree, or to redeem it?"
Asma-Ra answered with blood.
He cut his palm and pressed it to the ground.
"I seek the truth beneath its roots," he said. "Whatever it is. Even if it's a lie."
The voice laughed.
And the serpent writhed.
"Then take this gift, Ash-born. The Tongue of Lies. You will hear what others fear. You will speak what others dare not. But be warned…"
> "Every truth spoken with this tongue… will cost you a memory."
And with that, the mark of the Serpent Tongue burned into his throat.
He screamed.
Not from pain—but from the memory that slipped away—
He no longer remembered his mother's face.
The path behind him vanished.
And ahead, the Tree's shadow darkened.
---
END OF CHAPTER V
Next: Chapter VI – "The River That Remembers"