Ashes of Dharma

The path after the fourth gate was strange.

Not stone. Not dream. Not memory.

Just blankness.

Not emptiness—blankness. Like paper before the first stroke. Like silence before the first breath.

Aarav walked slowly. Each step created a faint line beneath him, as if his movement was writing the road itself.

He looked behind.

There was no trail.

No footprints.

Only the place he stood.

Then he saw it:

A pedestal.

Floating in air. Upon it—a scroll.

No words. No symbols. Just a smooth surface. And a brush made of bone and hair.

He touched the scroll.

Nothing happened.

He breathed on it.

Still nothing.

He closed his eyes.

And breathed through it.

From root to spine to skull to sky—his entire inner path activated in a single, silent inhale.

And the scroll came alive.

But instead of showing a route…

…it showed questions.

Where do you carry the most fear?

What would you abandon to protect peace?

Which part of you is still lying?

He didn't answer them aloud.

He didn't need to.

The ink responded to honesty.

And slowly, the scroll drew itself—paths, circles, symbols, names. A map.

Not of the world.

Of himself.

When the last symbol appeared, Aarav understood:

This map wouldn't show him where to go.

It would show him who he'd be when he got there.