The High Council bowed. But Rohan, Meera, and Bheem did not claim the throne. Instead, they returned to the city’s edge and opened the gates. “The Confluence is not for ruling,” Meera said. “It is for remembering. No one wins alone.”

“To ride together,” she said, “you must hurt together. When one bleeds, all bleed. When one tires, all slow. When one doubts, the Labyrinth will feast.”

“Then we build a bridge,” said Bheem.

In the walled city of Ayaanagar, where steam-belching iron rhinos shared roads with silent, silk-furred panthers, the annual Ritual of Confluence was the only law. Each year, the city’s seven clans sent their finest Vahan—their bonded mount or machine—to race through the treacherous Labyrinth of Echoes. The winner’s clan would rule for a year.

And so the Vahan Samanvay was never raced again. Instead, every year, the people of Ayaanagar linked hands—and hearts—and walked the Labyrinth together.