《How to Save the World Book 1: The Crown Prince Becomes Disciple of a Fallen God》 Prologue: Once in a Red Moon The old woman came out of the thatched hut. A wooden staff worn by years of dedicated use supported her frail hunched body. She gripped the staff as she tried to raise her head and look towards the night sky. The greys of her eyes reflected the red moon, eyes that could not see the world. A strange stillness was in the air. The subdued red glow of the moon gave out an eerie feeling. The old woman closed her eyes, contemplating her life. In all of her 87 years, this was the first and only time she would face a red moon. She knew what it would bring. With resignation, she opened her eyes once more. What is the use of knowing something beforehand when we cannot change it? she wondered. The glow surrounding the red moon increased and a shock wave burst in the sky followed by a piercing sound. The force rippled through the air, knocking out everything in its path. The old woman held on to the staff and braved through it. ¡°It begins,¡± she said.
The Grand Commemoration of the Great Victory was the event of the century. All the gods were back in Swarga-loka. This would be the first time in several decades when all of them would be ingathering. The Grand Hall of Swarga-loka was decked with even more golden tapestries than usual. The sweet fragrance of the parijatas and soft music by the in-house gandharvas filled the air. The apsaras swayed to the tunes with unmatched grace. The golden goblets were ever filled with soma rasa. Gods who hadn¡¯t seen one another in ages were catching up on divine gossip. Others were in pleasant anticipation. Greater titles, amrit and divine weapons would be bestowed on this day. A lesser god was debating with himself whether or not he should ask a question to his neighbour. This neighbour took part in the war that led to the Great Victory. He was recounting his tales to younger gods surrounding him. ¡°And that¡¯s how we won!¡± he finished and the enraptured younger gods cheered in delight. Lord Bhoja was busy in the Divine Palace Kitchen. Gods do not need to eat. Lord Bhoja however was a staunch advocate of having good food. His rotund appearance attested that. He was the head chef for the event¡¯s banquet. Patiently and meticulously he and his disciples prepared several delicacies from Bhu-loka. He was left with one last dish ¨C the appetiser. ¡°Rasam,¡± he instructed his two disciples, ¡°is easy to prepare. But you must use the right ingredients in the right amounts.¡± He then gently circled the ladle in the huge cooking vessel filled with boiling rasam atop a magical fire. ¡°The key,¡± he continued leaving the ladle to one of his disciples and searched the neatly arranged spice rack for a particular jar, ¡°is freshly grounded pepper.¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. He brought the pepper jar to the counter with a marble mortar and pestle. ¡°Freshly grounded,¡± he repeated as he opened the jar. One of his disciples realised that he had forgotten to restock the pepper, which was usually sourced from Bhu-loka. Lord Bhoja¡¯s pleasant mood was visibly altered. Restocking spices was a serious business. ¡°Why are there no pepper pods?¡± he asked the disciple hovering over him, the latter shrank to the floor in fright. ¡°You had one job!¡± Lord Bhoja growled. He would have continued the rant had he not faced a time crunch ¨C the banquet must start on time. He decided to quickly get some on his own from Bhu-loka; the disciples would not be able to pick the quality ones on such short notice. Back in the Grand Hall, the lesser god finally mustered enough courage to ask his question. It only had four words but it contained a name that should not be uttered. Forbidden things had a way of lingering on in the mind. This was probably his only chance of finding some answers. ¡°What about General Atisha?¡± he asked in a low almost inaudible voice. His neighbour was momentarily taken aback as if he misheard the question. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. ¡°Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!¡± Lord Bhoja¡¯s voice from the Divine Palace Kitchen reverberated across the Swarga-loka and in the ears of all the gods present in the Grand Hall. Lord Bhoja just realised that he could not pass through the barrier separating Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka.
In a small recess in the mighty Himalayas, the shadow of a certain god sat in deep meditation. He wore saffron robes and had a tonsured head. Being a shadow he was impervious to the harsh elements of nature. A heavy storm raged outside. Cold wind and snow twirled relentlessly. Above the storm, a falcon kept circling trying to find a way in, it shrieked a few times. The shadow of the god opened his eyes and guided the falcon with his mind. The falcon swooped downwards and manoeuvred itself from getting caught in the heavy winds. It finally found the recess and its master. It perched on its master¡¯s stretched arm and uttered a wail. The master knitted his brows in an undecipherable expression as he looked onto the incessant tempest ahead of him.
In a dense forest filled with entangled canopies, where sunlight does not reach the ground, the birds sitting on the higher branches chirped continuously. It was their daily routine. Sensing something, they stopped and scattered in the sky. Small animals scurried on the forest floor. The invisible force field far inside the forest started becoming visible. Lightning bolts spread across it as it tried to hold on. The bolts continued to weaken the field and it collapsed after some time, and a cave until then hidden became visible. The foliage surrounding it started to rot and from within it the darkness of the subterranean realms started to seep out slowly.
Swarga-loka ¨C Heavens parijatas ¨C a type of flowers similar to jasmines ¨C often referred to as night-blooming jasmines gandharvas ¨C celestial musicians soma rasa ¨C a beverage consumed by gods amrit ¨C a drink of gods which grants them immortality [in this web-novel ¨C drink only amrit grants immortality ¨C soma rasa does not have such properties] Bhu-loka ¨C Earth Rasam ¨C a type spicy Indian soup Chapter 1: A Girl of Few Words The preta was at the deserted crossroads. Behind it at some distance was the dark dense forest of Dandakaranya ¨C a forest so dense that even sunlight could not pass through it. To its left in about 8 yojanas was Arang, the capital city of Dayita dynasty. To its right was a never-ending badland of deep ravines. It looked at all three sides from time to time, unable to decide which way to go. The afternoon sun was mild but the preta felt as if it was in the scorching heat. This was a common problem all pretas faced ¨C an acute sensitivity to temperature. It was always too hot or too cold for them. Some believed it was a manifestation of their restless starved spirit. This particular preta almost had it in control ¨C having had to roam the Bhu-loka aimlessly for many many years. For all its depravity, it held on to a naive optimism that it would come across someone who could set it free. Hope is a good driving force but this afternoon, the preta¡¯s hope reserves were at an all-time low. It had not interacted with any living being for a while now. The latest curfew in the Dayita kingdom added to its woes. Some incidents had happened in the cremation grounds. The preta did not know the details but whatever happened, it frightened the humans enough to enforce strict curfews and regulated movement. Humans hardly passed by these paths now. The preta could not create its usual mischief and havoc. Time passed by very slowly. ¡°Humans get frightened so easily!¡± It murmured to itself. ¡°One incident and they are all back in their shells! With protection charms everywhere! These humans are afraid of everything. They always want to defend themselves from things that are different from them. Pity pity, what a pity! My talent for havoc is not only being ill appreciated, it is not being utilized at all!¡± It ranted thus shifting its position from here to there and back again to manage the burning sensations from the sun. The sun also created an illusory effect for the preta and it could not see the girl coming from the ravines until she reached the crossroads. The girl looked about 9 years or so, petite and nimble. She wore a tunic, tied up with a sash and a dhoti of earthen colors. Her long hair was plaited with sheer black ribbons. The only adornment she had on her was a metal hairpin holding the plaited hair. She walked with a steady pace and crossed the preta who was hovering on her way. The preta encountered the girl for a brief moment and felt her eyes on itself. It saw recognition in her eyes which was quickly lost. The hope reserves immediately replenished themselves. Pretas were invisible to humans. But this girl could see it! Or at least it felt so. The preta did consider the possibility it could be just its wishful thinking. But what if it wasn¡¯t? The unlikely scenario was too good to be missed. So, it started following the girl who was walking at her steady pace towards the Dayita kingdom. For a while, it tried to use its usual mischief methods ¨C making scary faces out of thin air, changing the atmosphere ¨C making it suddenly dark, accompanied by sounds of jackals and gusts of wind blowing over. The girl was unfazed and did not seem to notice any of this and kept her steady pace. The preta was confused. Was she a human or not? It was still not able to decide. ¡°Hello there, little girl,¡± it said in a jovial tone. It received no response. ¡°You seem to be a charming young lady,¡± it continued. ¡°The hairstyle is quite rad ¨C really like the black sheer ribbons ¨C the way they subtly shine in this afternoon sun ¨C like waters of a black sea in a mystic world.¡± The analogy fell on deaf ears. ¡°I like the silence,¡± went on the preta. ¡°I can talk when there¡¯s silence. You might hear me too. But if you were all chatty ¨C then my voice would be lost! So this is good. This is very good!¡± The girl kept walking ¨C her steady pace unhindered. The preta was silent for a while as it observed the girl. She walked ¨C neither too slow nor too fast, each step the same pace, every time. Such precision was not common among humans. The preta continued watching her for an hour or so. There was nothing better to do anyway. It concluded that this girl had some serious willpower. ¡°Who are you?¡± it asked unable to stop itself. ¡°The more I think about it ¨C the more I feel you are not human.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t answer, I know,¡± it said. ¡°Let me try to deduce it myself. I know stuff.¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°First of all, you are not a preta,¡± it declared. ¡°Because you have a physical form.¡± Satisfied with its reasoning, it said, ¡°You are also not an animal because you have a human form.¡± The girl continued walking but the preta imagined an eye roll coming from her. It hastened to justify itself, ¡°It¡¯s only when you remove the obvious, the not-so-obvious becomes visible!¡± ¡°You could, for instance, be a demon,¡± it continued. ¡°Demons can transform themselves into humans. But you do not give any demonic aura. Of course, there are some skillful demons who can hide their auras completely. And I think you are skillful. So, if you are a skillful demon, why would you come to Bhu-loka disguised as a little girl. It¡¯s not the go-to form of appearance. Quite useless in my opinion. If you were in the form of a young beautiful lady, you could entice those dumb humans and eat their flesh.¡± Still seeing no response from the girl, the preta started getting fidgety and bored. It was fun when people took the bait and reacted. It didn¡¯t necessarily want to scare the girl now ¨C it just wanted to get some sort of reaction from her. The futility of the task became apparent each time it talked. ¡°This is not fair!¡± it lamented. ¡°Why do I not get noticed? I should be seen! I should be recognized! I am invisible all the time. No one sees me, no one recognizes me. No one remembers me! This is the karma I have to endure for my past sins. Oh! What sins did I commit?! How long will I be a lonely preta wandering this wretched place?¡± Twilight had set in by this time and the desolateness of its existence suddenly caught up. It felt weary and overwhelmed. It stopped following the girl. ¡°I have no name,¡± it said its voice shaking. ¡°I have no form,¡± it said unable to control its anguish. ¡°I have no one,¡± its voice choked with emotion. The girl stopped on her tracks and turned around. The preta lifted up in disbelief. It worked? it thought. The girl looked past the preta and towards the forest behind it. Dark silhouettes of a rakshasa followed by a band of corpses became more visible as they came closer. The distraught preta did not realise initially what was happening but quickly pulled itself together and rushed away from the scene to watch it from a safe distance. The preta had seen many rakshasas in its time but this one was different. The rakshasa was draped in darkness instead of the fiery red flames they were famous for. His eyes were also pitch black instead of the usual red. His aura was dark and ominous. The corpses were rotting and had the same pitch-black eyes and dark aura. ¡°This is not good,¡± the preta muttered. The girl took a brief moment to chart out her course of action. She loosened the ribbons from her hair as the corpses approached her. They seemed to be guided by the rakshasa¡¯s instructions. They covered the distance in a split second and tried to overpower the girl. She jumped into the air in time and manoeuvred the sheer ribbons, which extended magically to trap the corpses from moving. She did this while she was escaping their clutches deftly hopping from one head of the corpse to another. Finally, she was able to tie them all up together. By this time, the rakshasa reached her, attacking her with a big machette. She quickly swerved and escaped the blow and put some distance between them. The rakshasa came after her again for another blow, she got another ribbon and tried to distract it by covering its eyes. Soon after, the ribbon quickly wrapped itself around the rakshasa as the latter struggled to get free. The girl jumped into the air while removing her metal pin and thrust it towards the ground, pinning the ends of the ribbon with it and immobilized the rakshasa. She then went to the corpses and sat cross-legged before them. Soon she floated into the air and an intricate golden mandala appeared beneath her slowly rotating in a clockwise direction. She closed her eyes and raised her right hand stretching two fingers towards the sky. The corpses seemed to burn from an invisible fire. They soon turned to dust and the ribbon came back to its owner. She opened her eyes and jumped back to the ground and the mandala disappeared. She then went to the rakshasa and observed it at length. From all sides and angles. She had to be thorough to make the next move. Having ascertained her assumptions, she floated in the air so that she was face to face with the rakshasa. It¡¯s whole face was covered with the never-ending sheer ribbon, which loosened a bit. The girl touched the rakshasa¡¯s forehead gently. And the darkness started receding from the place she touched and soon from his whole body. The pitch-black eyes turned a fiery red, as well as the aura and his demonic hair. The ribbon completely let go of the rakshasa who looked bewildered to find himself on Bhu-loka. The girl instructed him to return to the underworld. He bowed and disappeared. ¡°Puppets,¡± she said to herself as if solving the puzzle. She found a nearby tree and sat under it to meditate. She would need to recuperate her spiritual energy. The crisis was not averted. It had just begun. The preta came around in front of her after reassuring itself that there were no more corpses or demons in the vicinity. It looked at the girl¡¯s serene face. It finally put together who she was, in awe it said, ¡°You are a god.¡±
yojana ¨C a unit of distance in ancient India, here it is taken as 12km or 8 miles preta ¨C a restless spirit ¨C in this web-novel they are formless (they have distorted form in Indian and Buddhist mythology) Dandakaranya ¨C an infamous forest in Indian mythology where demons usually reside rakshasa ¨C demon dhoti ¨C a type of loose trousers made using unstitched cloth (considered as a male counter-part to a saree) mandala ¨C in this web-novel, it¡¯s a magical circle with geometric patterns which facilitates channeling of spiritual energy Chapter 2: Give and Take Birds chirped on the tree, dewdrops shimmered on the grass, and soft morning light filled the oncoming day. The girl kept meditating. The preta, on the other hand, had been on a vigil throughout the night ¨C what if the rakshasa returned with another set of corpses? One could never be sure. The vigil then turned into observing the girl, which in turn led to the preta itself meditating. ¡°Goodness gracious!¡± the preta said, snapping out of the trance. ¡°Did I just hypnotize myself into meditation?¡± It realized a strange occurrence. When it was in the meditative state, it did not feel its usual acute sensitivity to temperature. The night instead of being extremely cold was manageable. Even the early morning sun did not scorch the preta as it usually did. Interesting, the preta thought, as it regained the sensitivity and hopped from one place to another to mitigate the burning sensations. ¡°Should I just go back and meditate?¡± it said. ¡°But then I won¡¯t be doing anything else!¡± It came closer to the girl. An idea came about. ¡°What happens if I touch a god,¡± it said to itself, curious. ¡°Maybe, I¡¯ll be instantly liberated!¡± The thought made the preta happy, it rubbed its make-believe hands in glee. ¡°Today is my lucky day,¡± it said as it approached the girl. It headed for the girl¡¯s feet. It took a moment for itself, taking it all in, preciously looking at the feet that would change its fate. It paid its obeisance as it bowed before her. ¡°O¡¯ Mighty one!¡± it said. ¡°Please accept my respects and grant me, your grace!¡± Slowly, it raised its head ever so slightly to reach for the girl¡¯s feet. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked the girl looking downwards at him, puzzled. The preta backed off in fright. It regained its senses and approached the girl again. ¡°Hello God,¡± it said putting a brave face and bowing once more. ¡°I was hoping to be absolved by praying to your feet.¡± ¡°I mean ¨C by praying to you,¡± it said correcting itself, ¡°and paying my respects to your holy feet.¡± The girl was silent. ¡°I¡¯m not a god,¡± she said. The preta looked up at her. ¡°But you are a God!¡± it said. ¡°I watched you release the trapped corpses! Your mandala glows of cosmic radiance!¡± ¡°I¡¯m no longer a god,¡± the girl clarified. The preta was confused. ¡°That can happen? You can just opt out of it?¡± The girl did not know how to respond. ¡°Is that why you do not have the cosmic aura?¡± the preta said. The girl nodded. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°Ohh,¡± it said, the realization sinking in. ¡°You cannot save me then?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± said the girl. The preta¡¯s dejected self collapsed to the ground like a pool of melted liquid. ¡°The tragedy of a preta¡¯s existence is eternal. The saga will continue.¡± It said as it looked at the sky. A falcon screeched from afar. The girl looked at the sky and saw the bird flying towards her. When it was close enough, she raised her right hand and the falcon perched gently on it. It made happy noises and rubbed its head against her shoulders. The girl smiled and petted the bird. ¡°I missed you too, buddy,¡± she said. The preta pulled itself together and watched the scene unfold. ¡°Did you miss me too?¡± asked a voice. The preta was startled again. It calmed itself down and saw a seated man in saffron robes appearing out of thin air in front of the girl. The smile faded from her face. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Lord Vaiswa,¡± she said. ¡°Are we back to formalities?¡± he asked her in a soft voice. The girl did not respond. It guided the falcon to rest on the tree. ¡°What brings you here?¡± she said. ¡°Ah! No small talk as always,¡± he said. ¡°You know, I kept searching for you all these years. If you hadn¡¯t used your spiritual energy recently I wouldn¡¯t have been able to track you. Lucky me, you chose the perfect timing.¡± The girl looked at him ascertaining the situation. ¡°We need your help,¡± he said. ¡°The barrier between the Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka is blocked. The gods cannot descend to Bhu-loka anymore. The barrier must be opened from this side too.¡± ¡°Not my problem,¡± the girl shrugged. Lord Vaiswa had expected this response. ¡°You are the only one left on Bhu-loka, who can help us,¡± he said. ¡°If the demons of Patala-loka realize what has happened, imagine the havoc they will create! They will take over the Bhu-loka in no time!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have to imagine it,¡± said the girl. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I saw it,¡± she said. ¡°You saw what?¡± ¡°Why do you think I used my spiritual energy all of a sudden?¡± the girl asked. ¡°Someone has planned something very sinister,¡± she continued. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°A demon with a dark aura came here with a bunch of corpses,¡± the girl said. ¡°They were in effective control of someone else. If I hadn¡¯t realized the oddity sooner, I might have actually had to slay the poor rakshasa.¡± ¡°You mean someone from the Patala-loka?¡± asked Lord Vaiswa. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said the girl not comfortable airing her suspicions before him. ¡°So these are inter-connected,¡± said the lord. ¡°You still refuse to help?¡± ¡°Again,¡± said the girl. ¡°Not my problem.¡± ¡°How is this not your problem?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m not a god,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t have any god powers. I don¡¯t have my weapons. I don¡¯t even have my vehicle.¡± ¡°We can fix that,¡± said the lord eagerly. ¡°I know where your weapons are sealed.¡± ¡°I¡¯m no longer interested, Vaiswa,¡± said the girl. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be another puppet fighting another meaningless war.¡± Lord Vaiswa fell silent. ¡°Those weapons can fall into wrong hands,¡± he said. ¡°Do you really want that?¡± ¡°Are you threatening me?¡± said the girl, her eyes fixed on him. ¡°I¡¯m in no position to threaten you,¡± said the lord. ¡°I¡¯m just asking you to think of the consequences.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to,¡± said the girl. ¡°You denying who you are is not going to change it,¡± he said. ¡°You will always be a god with or without your weapons. With or without your powers. With or without your vehicle. That¡¯s your destiny. Even you cannot change it.¡± ¡°A bit ironic, don¡¯t you think?¡± the girl said. ¡°That¡¯s the burden of greatness,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. ¡°You have to bear the mantle even if you are not interested. And particularly, if you are not interested. The rush of power can make even gods do despicable things. I cannot let such power fall into the wrong hands.¡± The girl sighed. ¡°This time, it¡¯s going to be different,¡± he said. ¡°I won¡¯t take away the powers or the weapons once you have them. And I will do whatever it takes to get you back to Swarga-loka.¡± He paused and continued, ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, I didn¡¯t return to Swarga-loka since then.¡± Several moments passed and the lord tried to look patient and composed. ¡°We have a deal,¡± the girl said finally.
Patala-loka ¨C underworld where demons reside vehicle ¨C in this web-novel, gods usually have mythical beasts as vehicles Chapter 3: Duty Bound The preta presently changed itself into a translucent falcon. It checked its wings and feet, satisfied with the transformation, it turned to the girl. "No-god God!" it said fluttering its make-believe wings. "Take me under your wing, let me follow you and assist you in your mission." Once she recovers her powers, she can release me! the preta thought. What is there to lose? Gaining the favor of a god might come in handy! Hehe. The girl did not react. She started walking towards the forest of Dandakaranya. The preta followed closely. It had wanted to perch itself upon the girl''s shoulders like how the falcon did earlier. But having not gained any favor with her yet, it decided to stay put. It could not afford to anger a god. I will just follow her, silence is tacit agreement, it thought. ¡°Are the weapons in the forest, your divinity?¡± asked the preta after some time trying to start a conversation; it could not bear long stretches of silence. ¡°No,¡± replied the girl. She replied! it preta felt instantly happy and came a little closer to her. ¡°Then, why are we going to the forest, your eminence?¡± asked the confused preta. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we focus on getting your eminence''s weapons first?¡± The girl considered the question for a moment. ¡°What should one prioritize?¡± she asked. ¡°The urgent or the important? Action or Inaction?¡± The preta thought about it. ¡°Is the urgent thing related to taking action? Or is it related to inaction?¡± it asked. "Urgent inaction does not make much sense. Urgent action does. Inaction can be important depending on the situation. Action can be both urgent and important. But if we are taking action on one thing, it means we are taking not taking action on another thing. What if that other thing was important?" it continued. The preta felt a headache while it entangled itself with the possibilities. ¡°Say, you have to choose between the two,¡± said the girl. ¡°One, get the weapons you need because you do not have enough powers to defend against any imminent attacks. Two, investigate the source of the said imminent attacks and mitigate the risk, if possible.¡± ¡°How can you mitigate the risk if you do not have enough powers?¡± said the preta. ¡°If I do not address the issue now, it is possible that the attacks can become more dangerous both in frequency and intensity,¡± said the girl. ¡°Is that an acceptable outcome?¡± The preta did not know. ¡°So you are saying,¡± it tried to reason, ¡°you are going to put yourself at risk at the moment, to avoid escalations in the future. Although, you do not really have the means to shape such events to your benefit.¡± The ends of the girl¡¯s lips curled a little. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit reckless?¡± asked the preta. ¡°It is,¡± said the girl. The preta seemed to realize something. ¡°You decided to check into the rakshasa affair before the monk god appeared, right?¡± The girl did not reply. ¡°The bargain for your weapons was just a bonus, isn¡¯t it?¡± the preta continued. ¡°You are perceptive,¡± the girl said. ¡°That I am,¡± said the preta in the form of the falcon patting itself on the back with its make-believe wings. Soon, they reached the forest. The girl entered it without stopping. The preta hesitated for a moment. It had until then never dared to venture into Dandakaranya. The dark forest looked foreboding as always. It quickly gathered itself and followed the girl. A god without powers is also a god, it reminded itself.
Prince Aryaman looked at the long dark tunnel ahead of him. The dungeon he currently entered was old and unused. It was barely lit, only the light from an opening in the high ceiling gave some visibility. Cobwebs filled the walls. The air was damp and was filled with a rotting smell. His horse was not happy with the situation. It made squeaky noises, getting anxious. Aryaman could feel the fidgeting of its hoofs. ¡°Shush,¡± he whispered gently into the horse¡¯s ear. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Himmat.¡± He heard noises. The royal guards must be approaching the dungeon. Holding the reins tighter, he bent towards the horse and closed his legs to the animal, squeezing it. The horse at once picked up the pace and galloped into the dark tunnel. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. The Prince was determined this time. He had to do this. He knew he was defying filial duty but he could no longer ignore his conscience. He was the crown prince, wasn''t he? His mandate was to protect the kingdom. You are the light of the kingdom, his father had told him. If anything happens to you, the kingdom will be in chaos. You have to stay safe. Your protection comes first. What about the thousands of people of this kingdom? Aryaman had asked his father. You are their king first! You should put them first! When you become a father, you will understand, Arya, his father had told him nonchalantly. You are my priority. If this means I have to become a wretched king, so be it. I will not be a wretched father. Prince Aryaman by then understood he could not dissuade his father. The once benevolent ruler of Dayati had now put the safety of his son before the safety of his people. Yes, the king did put measures in place to contain the situation. Citizens were not allowed to leave the city. Protection charms were set up on the outskirts and rituals took place by priests to ward off evil spirits. But no one was going and addressing the root cause of the issue. All the kingdom¡¯s resources were now mainly put towards keeping the royal family safe while hundreds, if not thousands of commoners lived in constant terror and misery without knowing when things would get back to normal. If anything, it was the prince who was capable of solving this crisis. Father, the prince thought to himself. I will not let this havoc destroy our kingdom. I will not let you tarnish your name. He knitted his brows together and gripped the handle of his sword harder. Himmat galloped forward into the seemingly never-ending tunnel. The prince heard the royal guards coming after him on their horses. He pressed his horse gently to increase the pace. ¡°Prince Aryaman!¡± the head of the royal guards shouted from afar. ¡°Please stop! Please stop!¡±
The girl stood before the cave observing it. It looked ominous, covered in darkness dissipating from deep within it. This was the portal to Patala-loka. The rakshasa and the corpses must have come out of this. Ideally, the portal should be made invisible by the protective barrier. The barrier also ensured rogue demons and creatures do not enter Bhu-loka on their own and cause destruction. These dissipating dark clouds circling the cave were also unusual. The girl stood there for some time trying to understand how the breach happened. Ordinary demons were not capable of such a feat. Her brows puckered in a frown. She knew of very few entities in the entire three worlds who could accomplish something like this. ¡°Do you hear it?¡± asked the girl shifting her attention to the forest The preta strained itself to pick up any sounds. ¡°I don¡¯t hear anything,¡± it said. ¡°Yes,¡± said the girl. ¡°It''s the silence. Strange, don''t you think? A forest this dense ideally would be populated with animals and birds. It should be anything but silent.¡± The girl looked up and saw thick canopies of trees blocking sunlight from reaching the forest floor. She narrowed her eyes and got to work.
The tunnel was built as a secret way out of the palace in times of emergencies. It ran for a couple of yojanas under a hill beginning from the palace dungeons. Of the multiple ways, the prince had planned for getting out of the palace and the kingdom, this was the quickest and would lead to a minimum number of casualties, if any. He would just have to deal with a few royal guards. He could outrun an entire army if needed but this was not the time for optics. He needed to save his energy to fight the real enemies. Moreover, he did not want the kingdom to be thrown into additional panic and chaos. This will work, he thought. Himmat, despite being timid, was a powerhouse and held steady in times of need. The prince¡¯s keen eyes spotted a metal lever on the wall to his right as he rode past it. ¡°Prince! I beg you!¡± the chief of the royal guards shouted, his voice sounding nearer than before. The prince did not respond and kept his focus on the opening of the tunnel, which was now visible at a distance. He heard the lever being pulled down from behind him. The tunnel started to tremble. Above it, from the hilltop, large boulders started rolling down towards the entrance. As the prince got closer to the entrance, the boulders began to fall down.
The girl pulled out her trusted ribbons. She twirled them into the air and they soon formed into a net covering the cave. She sprung from the ground, in the air and made a quick formation with her hands. Her cosmic mandala appeared. This time, it was much smaller than before. It looked more like a chakra as it spun faster. She directed the mandala towards the sky and it pierced through the dense canopies until it reached the other end. Sunlight fell through the newly opened column among the canopies and onto the cave. The preta watched on in wonder but from a safe distance unable to form any thoughts, completely transfixed. The ribbons began to glow. They tried to contain the darkness from escaping the cave. The mandala now appeared in front of the levitating girl, in its usual size, twice as big as the girl. She pushed the energy of the mandala towards the ribbons. The dark energy of the cave pushed back, resisting the attempt to be contained. This struggle continued for a while, neither side getting the upper hand - the more the girl tried to contain the dark energy, the more it resisted her. She tried to gauge the spiritual energy needed to hold her ribbons as the barrier. With one hand she held the mandala in place as it tried to hold the barrier; she made a mudra with her other hand opening her palm towards her chest as if trying to extract something. A moment later, a golden orb radiating pure spiritual energy came out of her body. She directed it towards her mandala. As the orb passed through the mandala, it became brighter. Cold sweat broke out on her face as her body tried to endure the sudden loss of spiritual energy. She closed her eyes and summoned the last reserves of her depleted spiritual energy. The mandala spun faster and the orb entered the cave and restrained the dark energy from inside. The ribbon barrier now was able to stabilize itself. The girl transferred some more energy towards it amplified through her mandala. The barrier became steady and a moment later turned invisible. Her mandala vanished and she fell to the ground unconscious.
¡°Himmat, now!¡± shouted Aryaman. The horse leapt into the air narrowly missing a falling boulder and landed on the other side. It turned around to face the tunnel. The Prince saw the chief¡¯s distressed and angry face. ¡°Come back Prince!¡± the chief shouted. A moment later, the entrance to the tunnel was blocked completely by a barrage of boulders falling from the hilltop. Aryaman heard several curses uttered by the chief, resounding in the tunnel. He swiftly guided his horse towards the forest of Dandakaranya.
Patala-loka - netherworld/underworld Bhu-loka - Earth rakshasa - demon yojana ¨C a unit of distance in ancient India, here it is taken as 12km or 8 miles mudra ¨C here, a gesture made to invoke spiritual or celestial powers chakra ¨C a type of weapon ¨C it is a circular disc with serrated edges Chapter 4: Trouble Comes in Threes The prince got down his horse. Dandakaranya looked foreboding ahead of him. Himmat protested with its signature nickering. ¡°Himmat,¡± said Aryaman, patting the horse¡¯s head. ¡°Listen up, bud.¡± The horse reluctantly perked its ears up. ¡°I¡¯m going in alone,¡± Aryaman continued. ¡°It¡¯s too dense for you, not to mention spooky.¡± The horse nodded in agreement. The prince smiled despite himself. ¡°If I don¡¯t return in two hours,¡± he said looking at the horse. ¡°Return to the palace and go straight to the king.¡± The horse groaned mildly. ¡°He won¡¯t lecture you,¡± assured the prince, patting its head once more. The prince entered the forest and plodded through the thick bushes, moving vines that blocked his sight from time to time. He stopped once he found a tall tree whose canopy seemed higher than others. He climbed it quickly for a vantage point. At some distance, he saw a vertical beam of light in the middle of the forest. Curious, he decided to examine that part of the forest first.
The preta sobbed hard and loud. ¡°How can you die so quickly?¡± it wailed, holding onto the unconscious girl on the floor. ¡°I told you this was a bad idea. But no! So stupid and reckless!¡° ¡°Who will save me now?¡± it cried. Its emotional anguish prevented it from sensing the approaching prince. The prince saw the unconscious girl under the beam of light. The preta and its wails were unseen and unheard. The cave had ceased to be visible. Aryaman slowly proceeded to the girl, checking his sides surreptitiously and being particularly attentive to any nearby sounds. His right hand grasped the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it out if needed. He reached and looked down at the girl. Her long hair was spread out and she looked weary. Why is such a young girl in this dangerous forest? he wondered. What happened to her? Was she forced to forage here for her family? Or did she run away? The prince stood there for a while and climbed another tree and then another. He surveyed the nearby areas in the forest and found nothing out of order. Was the information misleading? he thought to himself. He was supposed to find demons and possessed corpses hiding in the forest.
In Swarga-loka, Lord Purandhara, the lord of the heavens, sat on his magnificent throne, made of gold and studded with gemstones. His hand rubbed the exquisitely carved tiger head. Two such tiger heads adorned both arms of the throne. A fierce golden lion with a flowing golden mane graced the crest of the throne. Lord Purandhara himself was resplendent; gilded silk clothes, precious ornaments, and a grand crown exalted his divine body. None of these, however, could mask the dismay on his face. ¡°How could there be no other way?¡± he asked Lord Vaiswa, his second in command, who was seated on the rightmost seat next to his. The Grand Hall was empty save for himself and Lord Vaiswa. ¡°She is the only god present on Bhu-loka, right now,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. Unlike his austere shadow on earth, he was in his usual form, decked in silks and adorned with gold. "You know the protocols." ¡°But why would she agree to it?¡± said Lord Purandhara puzzled, it did not make sense to him. Lord Vaiswa cleared his throat. He would have to handle this matter tactfully. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°I made a deal with her,¡± he said. ¡°Her weapons and return to Swarga-loka in exchange for her help.¡± ¡°No!¡± said Lord Purandhara. ¡°No!¡± Lord Vaiswa bided his time. He waited till Lord Purandhara let out his displeasure. ¡°How could you?!¡± continued Lord Purandhara anger flaring up his nostrils, his face distorting. ¡°She is a direct threat if she gets her weapons back! You know...you know what she is capable of! When did you become so openly rebellious?¡± ¡°I made a preemptive move, my lord,¡± said Lord Vaiswa, his voice calm. ¡°We have to consider the situation on Bhu-loka as well. The barrier protecting Bhu-loka from Patala-loka is broken. We do not know who is behind it. The demons can now enter Bhu-loka unimpeded. I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe another war is brewing.¡± ¡°Another war?¡± repeated Lord Purandhara, becoming quiet. ¡°Like the last one?¡± Lord Vaiswa nodded his head. ¡°You think the rakshasas are plotting revenge?¡± said Lord Purandhara, the implication of the words sinking in. "It can''t be. It can''t be." Lord Purandhara kept shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°I do not yet know,¡± said Lord Vaiswa and looked directly at his lord. ¡°But if they do, would you rather have her, side with us or side with them?¡±
The King of Dayita kingdom looked down at the empty streets of his capital. His hands were tied to his back and his face bore a grim expression. Light sifted through the perforated screen ahead of him and onto his worn eyes and rugged face. The greys in his mustache and beard caught the soft light and shimmered from time to time. The guard outside announced the prime minister who entered a moment later and paid his respects. ¡°The prince escaped, your highness,¡± he said in a quiet tone. "The royal guards could not stop him. He used the defunct tunnel leading to Dandakaranya." The king did not react, he had anticipated this outcome. He continued gazing towards the streets. ¡°We have a bigger problem,¡± said the prime minister. ¡°I received intel that the Kapala army is heading for the Northern Mines.¡± This elicited an immediate reaction from the king. He turned around in surprise. ¡°If they make the Northern Mines their base,¡± continued the prime minister. ¡°They can destroy Arang.¡± ¡°Where is the General?¡± said the king. The prime minister hesitated. ¡°He is yet to return from the military campaign down south,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve sent a missive to him to return the earliest. But I¡¯m not sure whether he would be able to return in time.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± the king pondered on the matter. ¡°I¡¯m also afraid we might have a mole,¡± continued the prime minister. ¡°The timing of the Kapala army is suspicious. Someone seemed to have tipped them off regarding General Pushya¡¯s campaign.¡± ¡°Do you have any suspects?¡± asked the king. ¡°No, Your Highness,¡± said the prime minister. ¡°I¡¯ve checked all our spies and messengers. I think it¡¯s someone higher-up.¡± The king closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. ¡°Is there any good news?¡± he asked rhetorically. "You won the wager, Your Majesty," said the prime minister as he placed a small jute bag filled with coins on a nearby table.
The underground cave was lit by the sparkle of the giant crystals. The crystals were everywhere; they rose from the ground, from the ceiling, and from the walls. Long back, the nagini had fashioned a dais for herself of these crystals, which stood at the center of the cave, almost like her seat of power. A large mirror stood on a side to this dais. Presently, she was looking at herself in the mirror. Her upper body took human form, her long serpent tail which began from her torso, coiled itself comfortably on the floor. Her eyes glinted as she admired her beautiful form. A rakshasa appeared in the cave. He bowed to her and paid his respects. ¡°I bear bad news, my lady,¡± it said. ¡°The portal in Dandakaranya has been sealed.¡± In the mirror, the nagini saw a frown appear on her forehead. This was unexpected. ¡°Aren¡¯t all the gods in Swarga-loka?¡± she asked turning to look at him. ¡°Who on Bhu-loka has such power?¡± The rakshasa did not know how to answer this. He opened his mouth but no words came out. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you saying anything?¡± the nagini demanded. She waved at her mirror and it showed the forest of Dandakaranya. The nagini saw the girl lying unconscious on the forest floor. Her eyes widened in disbelief. ¡°She sealed it?¡± asked the nagini. ¡°Yes, my lady,¡± the rakshasa answered. ¡°Without any weapons?¡± ¡°It seems so, my lady.¡± The nagini looked at the mirror once more. The girl¡¯s comatose face appeared in the mirror now. The nagini traced the girl¡¯s face with her long fingernails. Several emotions ran through her face. She was momentarily lost. ¡°A menace, as always,¡± she said to herself. ¡°Should I let you live? And see you bloom.¡± Her eyes gleamed at the thought. ¡°Or should I nip you in the bud?¡± She smiled, both seemed to give her devious pleasure. ¡°Summon Raktabheeja,¡± she told the rakshasa, still looking at the reflection of the girl in the mirror.
Swarga-loka - Heaven Bhu-loka - Earth Patala-loka - netherworld/underworld rakshasas - demons nagini ¨C a female serpent with magical powers; they usually reside in Patala-loka; they can take human form Raktabheeja ¨C literal translation ¨C ¡°blood seed¡± Chapter 5: The Sword that Can Slay Demons Aryaman returned to the unconscious young girl. He bent and checked her breath - it was almost non-existent. He checked her pulse, it was also almost non-existent. The prince looked at the girl''s face, puzzled. She was alive yet her body seemed to have stopped functioning. He had not come across such a situation before. But he heard from his guru about it. The container goes into a deep slumber when overwhelmed by an attack beyond it, his guru had told him. Only great spiritual masters can protect their containers in such a state. "Who are you?" he asked aloud, looking at the girl with concern. The preta also realized that the girl was recuperating. It now decided to guard the girl till she woke up. It looked at the prince curiously. He was young and fit. Although he wore ordinary clothes, the preta could make out from his demeanor that the young man was of noble birth. The sword he was carrying especially caught the preta''s attention. The sword looked ordinary but it emanated a golden aura not visible to human eyes. This preta could see it. The sword could cut through demonic illusions. It could kill rakshasas with a single blow. If harnessed properly, it could split into multiple copies of itself and attack multiple enemies in one instance. Such a sword was known as daityahan asi, the sword that can slay demons. Who are you? The preta wondered. It was uncommon for humans to wield such a weapon. This young man could have acquired it from his ancestors. He could have gained it through his merits. Either way, the preta wanted to test the young man. If he was not adept with the weapon, the preta could trick him into leaving it. In that case, the girl would at least have one good weapon with her for the time being. She could rely on the weapon''s powers instead of exhausting her spiritual reserves. No-god God, the preta addressed the girl. Let me prove my worth to you. This preta is not always cowardly. The prince by this time had decided to take the unconscious girl along with him. He was about to pick her up when the preta cast an illusion. At once, the forest disappeared for the prince, he was in an abandoned cremation ground and it was nightfall. Numerous funeral pyres were set up but there was no one around. The pyres were also empty. The prince unsheathed his sword and looked around. He strained his eyes to make sense of his surroundings. Slowly, from a distance, hundreds of corpses started walking towards the prince from all sides. Before he could fully realize what was happening, the corpses closed in on him and began attacking him. The prince defended himself parrying his sword around him. He blazed through one side of the formation to come out but no matter how far he pushed the corpses seemed to be overpowering him. This went on for some time and the prince began to weaken. One corpse got to him and started to snatch his sword. He kicked it with his leg and thrust the sword at it. He jumped into the air and onto a nearby funeral pyre. He could see the sea of never-ending corpses around him. This is an illusion, he told himself. The demons are still in the forest. He tried to recall what he had learnt about illusions from his guru: Illusions succeed in so far as they can convince the person they are reality. What you see is not what is real, what is real is not easily visible. The corpses closed in again, one of them went for his sword, others tried to hold his legs. The prince jumped into the air to another pyre in time. This is not real, he told himself. How do I break out of this?
Lord Bhoja sat on the floor of the Divine Palace Kitchen with a cloth over his head, his shoulders drooping in dejection and a listless look on his face. "How long will this torment last?" he said in a dispirited tone. In front of him were numerous jars most of which were on the verge of becoming empty. Since the barrier closed, the pantry items dwindled rapidly. Lord Bhoja was against using his powers to preserve them. There was a sea difference between freshly made food and food made from such preservation. But now, he had sunk into a desolate state. He should have preserved them when he had had the chance. He had earlier thought the barrier was blocked because of some minor issue. All the gods, were in Swarga-loka, surely someone would be able to fix it. But even Lord Purandhara, the lord of Swarga-loka, could not do anything about it. Lord Vaiswa who had resigned to meditation after The Great Victory awoke because of it. The barrier was not blocked, it had sealed itself. "My lord," said one of the disciples. "Please pull yourself together, we cannot see you like this." "Now that Lord Vaiswa is awake," the disciple continued, "Lord Purandhara can open the barrier. It''s just a barrier, isn''t it?" Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "Just a barrier?" Lord Bhoja echoed the words, his anger rising. "You fool! It''s not just a barrier! It is made of primordial energy!" The disciple slapped his cheeks immediately as self-punishment. "Forgive this ignorant one," said the disciple. "Please enlighten me, my lord." "Primordial energy is the root of all powers existing in the three worlds. It''s the essence that created the three worlds - Swarga-loka, Bhu-loka, and Patala-loka. Swarga-loka lies above Bhu-loka and Patala-loka lies beneath Bhu-loka. After the worlds came into being, its power diffused and became the barriers that separated the worlds. The barrier between Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka is a single envelope surrounding Bhu-loka. It prevents both humans and demons from entering Swarga-loka. At the same time, gods can descend to Bhu-loka to protect the human realm. Patala-loka can be accessed from Bhu-loka through seven portals. Each of these portals has its own barriers." "But now the barrier between Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka has sealed itself for some reason. Because it is made of the primordial energy - it cannot be opened from Swarga-loka alone." "How can the barrier be opened then?" asked the disciple. "It must be unsealed by directing its original essence towards it from both Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka." "But isn''t the original essence made into the three realms?" asked the other disciple. "Yes and no," replied Lord Bhoja. "Lord Tvashtr, the divine forger of weapons, channeled some of it into shaping the weapons of gods. Lord Purandhara''s weapon, Vajra is one of them. But we need an equally powerful weapon to be wielded from Bhu-loka for the barrier to be opened." "Who in all of Bhu-loka can have such a weapon, my lord?" asked one of the disciples. "Aren''t all the gods here in Swarga-loka?" "That is why I feel so miserable," sighed Lord Bhoja.
The preta watched the prince struggling with the phantom corpses it had created, with interest. The young man did not know how to use the daityahan asi. It was only a matter of time before the prince would let go of the sword. The moment that happens, the preta could appropriate it. The prince kept fighting with the onslaught of corpses. If it were a lesser mortal, he would have given up long before either due to fright or exhaustion. While the prince had good stamina, he lacked the skill and knowledge of his weapon. Humans do not need to know how to wield weapons of gods, General Pushya had told him. It would be treated as insolence and our clan would be punished for generations. We should not disrupt the balance of the worlds, Arya. This was the reason the general had given him before exiling his guru. Since his sword looked ordinary, the general did not know of its significance. Aryaman did not reveal it to him either. If not for that fateful day, he might have learnt from his guru how to unlock the powers of the sword. He remembered his own helplessness in the matter. He recalled the parting words of his guru who had accepted his exilement stoically: Remember Arya, a weapon is only as good as its master. It cannot do what its master cannot command. A weapon is only as good as its master, Aryaman repeated to himself. It cannot do what its master cannot command. It cannot do what its master cannot command. It cannot do what its master cannot command. As he repeated those lines over and over again, something clicked in his mind. He stopped defending himself against the corpses. He sat down and kept his sword straight with its tip touching the ground. He held the hilt with both his hands and closed his eyes, ignoring the corpses that drowned him. O mighty sword that can slay demons, he addressed the sword in the divine tongue his mother had taught him when he was a child. Unlock your powers and dispel this illusion. The corpses are not real, the pyres are not real, the cremation ground is not real. See what I see. The sword trembled in his hands when it heard the prince''s thoughts. Its golden aura became visible and it cut through the heap of corpses that hand stacked up on the prince with its celestial powers. The prince could no longer feel the grabbing by the corpses. He opened his eyes and he was back in the forest. He checked himself and his sword and broke into a wide grin. "It worked!" he said elated, sliding his fingers across the blade of the sword to feel the metal. This is indeed a divine weapon, he thought. I need to find a mentor who can teach me how to wield this sword. He turned towards the girl. Are you a demon? he wondered in his mind. He hesitated for a moment but bent to pick her up for the second time. This time, nothing happened. The preta was annoyed. Pfft! How did he figure it out? it tried to understand. Realizing it was out of options, it stuck to the girl turning itself into a make-believe sword this time. Himmat was still waiting for the prince outside the forest. The two hours hadn''t elapsed yet. It made a happy sound seeing its master but then started whining. It could sense the preta. The prince looked worried. Is Himmat reacting to the girl? "What''s wrong, Himmat?" he said. "It''s alright." He coaxed it for a few minutes before climbing it with the girl in his arms. The girl was the only solid lead he had found till now. He would need to find out about her true form to get to the demons. He knew someone who could help. He squeezed Himmat with his legs and guided it towards the city.
The old woman came out of her thatched hut. It was early evening. She collected the hay she dried outside her hut and piled it on the side. A water trough was beside the pile. The old woman had filled it with fresh water she filtered from a nearby pond. She had no visitors since the incidents at the cremation grounds. One of her upcoming visitors was picky about water and hay. She looked towards the path that led to Dandakaranya expectantly. "They should be reaching soon," she said to herself.
container here refers to the physical body in which a soul resides daityahan asi - the sword that can slay demons merits - good deeds and contributions made for the world Vajra - translated as "thunderbolt" is one of the most powerful weapons created for gods daityahan asi - the sword that can slay demons Chapter 6: The Old Woman鈥檚 Tale Himmat ate the hay the old woman had collected for it, taking in small bites at a time. It was hungry but it was also cultured and of noble birth. Moreover, it was accustomed to this practice, it knew it had plenty of time as its master usually stayed at the old woman¡¯s hut for at least a few hours. The clay fireplace inside the old woman¡¯s hut was lit. She stoked the wood gently and the flames increased, her blind grey eyes could only see the warmth suffused into the usual darkness. The pot fuelled by these flames cooked the rice porridge. If the city gates had been open the old woman would have had travelers stopping by. She would sometimes play host and serve the weary travelers food, sometimes barter goods with them. One of her more popular dishes was the pongal, a rice, and lentil porridge. Her lentil supplies were long exhausted, only the rice bags remained. She stirred the porridge from time to time. The prince sat on a mat not far from her, at the very end of the hut the girl lay on another mat, covered by a thin tattered blanket. ¡°Thank you for taking us in, avva,¡± said the prince earnestly. ¡°I knew I could count on you.¡± ¡°This avva is always happy to help you, child,¡± said the old woman, as she looked in the general direction of where the prince was, her grey eyes shimmering mildly in the dimly lit room. She did not question about the girl. ¡°I have not had a visitor since many days.¡± ¡°The curfew is still in place,¡± the prince said. ¡°I do not know how long it will last. The matter of the demons and the corpses is yet to be solved.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said the old woman. She now served the freshly cooked porridge to the prince in an earthen bowl. ¡°You must get it resolved soon if you want pongal instead of this.¡± The old woman said in jest. The prince smiled. ¡°Yes, avva,¡± he said digging into the food at once not showing any restraint. He finished the bowl in under a minute and shamelessly asked for a second helping. The old woman filled the bowl to the brim this time. ¡°You never eat slow,¡± she remarked as her lips curled upwards hitting the prince lightly on the head with a fan she had been holding. ¡°Avva must think I¡¯m uncouth,¡± said the prince, grinning. ¡°But why should I save face with avva, she knows me the best!¡± The old woman chuckled lightly. The prince was a smooth talker. She felt the prince¡¯s spirited energy permeate the bleakness of her hut and fill it with some much-needed warmth. As the prince was finishing his second serving, the old woman thought about the girl. Your eminence, this humble one will save you. ¡°Tell me the story of the Peerless Princess,¡± said the young man. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I heard it.¡± ¡°The young one likes that tale the most, doesn¡¯t he?¡± said the old woman. ¡°As you wish.¡± And the old woman began the tale.
¡°Long long ago in the kingdom of Kishanagara, the beautiful queen gave birth to a girl. As the only child of a benevolent ruler, the princess was brought up with much love and freedom. She was bestowed with the best teachers. She learnt the arts of governance and warfare along with poetry, painting, and music. Those who saw her were spellbound by her beauty and her skills. And soon she was given the epithet peerless ¨C her beauty was unmatched, her grace was unmatched, her intelligence was unmatched, her sword skills were unmatched. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. When the princess reached marriageable age, her father found himself in a fix. Who could match this impeccable daughter of his? He consulted the princess regarding the same. The wise princess came up with a suggestion. Let us hold a swayamvara, father, the princess said. Among all of my skills, the ones I hold the dearest are my sword skills. If anyone can surpass me in a duel, I will accept them as my husband. Our kingdom would also get a competent ruler. The king agreed with the princess''s suggestion heartily. Soon the swayamvara was announced and princes from far and wide came to win her hand. The duel was held in a public arena and the crowd cheered their princess. One by one, all of these princes from distinguished royal families faced defeat. Several days passed like this and the king started to feel tense. Until one day, a young prince matched the princess in combat. Each time their swords faced, it resulted in a draw. Finally, after a long duel, the princess accepted her defeat. This young prince was indeed better than her. The king was overjoyed and the crowd cheered. You have indeed surpassed me, noble prince, said the peerless princess. But I cannot marry you and you know the reason why. The prince was stunned for a moment and collected himself. You are right, princess, he replied. He bowed to her to show his respects. Truly, you are peerless. And he left relinquishing his claim.¡±
The old woman finished her tale thus. ¡°Do you want me to ask you the questions, child?¡± She said. This was the part the young man liked the most. ¡°Please, avva,¡± said the prince. ¡°Why did the princess refuse the prince who defeated her?¡± asked the old woman. ¡°Because he watched the princess duel with the other princes,¡± said Aryaman, the same way he answered her the first time he had listened to it. ¡°He studied her techniques and practiced them in order to defeat her.¡± ¡°Why did the prince relinquish his claim when he won?¡± said the old woman. ¡°When the prince studied her skills, he inadvertently became the princess''s disciple. So, he was her disciple first and her suitor next. The most sacred bond is the one between a guru and their disciple. Realizing this, the prince knew it could not be violated and understood why the princess was truly peerless. Since, the princess is his guru, he could not claim her hand. Realizing this, he accepted her judgment and gave up his claim.¡° The old woman smiled to herself. She did not quite know why the young man liked this tale so much. ¡°I wonder what you would if you were in the prince¡¯s position?¡± said the old woman. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put myself in such situations in the first place,¡± replied Aryaman grinning. ¡°There¡¯s no winning in such cases. Gaining such sword skills and losing such a person - can the both compare?¡± The old woman nodded thoughtfully, ¡°Indeed.¡± The preta, now back to its formless self, watched and listened to the whole thing with an unusual level of patience. Pfft! He thinks he is so smart, it thought to itself. As if he would not do the same thing in such a case. It shook its make-believe head and looked at the girl. Don¡¯t you worry, No-god God, I will rescue you. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t avva ask about the girl?¡± Aryaman asked after some time.
Under the dark sky, the village burned as the Kapala Army ransacked it. This was their modus operandi. Burn. Pilfer. Decimate. This night, they accomplished the task in a swift manner. The village yielded without much fight. The Kapalas did not fill their special baskets, which hung on one side of their sturdy horses. They did not consider a mere village worthy of producing any war trophies. The riders in black cloaks, covered with black masks watched the village smouldering, embers flying into the night sky. Their eyes were emotionless. One of them returned from the village. ¡°All done,¡± he confirmed. Their chief nodded and turned his horse towards a hill far away. The rest of the riders followed him. They weren¡¯t in a hurry. A steady pace was better than tiring the horses. The chief kept gazing at the silhouette of the hill. The Northern Mines were finally within reach.
pongal ¨C there are two kinds of pongal, a sweet one made with milk, rice, and sugar/jaggery and a savory one that is a type of rice and lentil porridge. avva ¨C informal way of addressing an old woman, word translates as ¡°grand mother¡± swayamvara ¨C a practice in ancient India where a young woman could choose their husband from a group of suitors. Sometimes, competitions are held for her hand. The Peerless Princess is a tale adapted from one of the stories Betaal tells King Vikramaditya in Baital Pachisi, a popular mythological folklore. Chapter 7: The Root Chakra ¡°Why doesn¡¯t avva ask about the girl?¡± Aryaman asked. The prince looked at the old woman expectantly. Her face was solemn. She did not reply. ¡°You cannot speak about it, avva?¡± the prince said softly sensing her hesitation. The old woman smiled lightly. ¡°Always the perceptive one,¡± she replied. ¡°Yes, this old one cannot speak of certain things.¡± The prince considered this. He had known the old woman for some years yet this was the first time she had withheld information from him. ¡°I just need to know one thing,¡± said the prince aloud in a quiet but firm tone. ¡°Is she a threat to Arang?¡± ¡°No,¡± replied the old woman without any ambivalence. The girl must not be a demon. Avva wouldn¡¯t shelter them, he thought. Who cast that illusion in the forest then? ¡°Hmm,¡± said the prince. ¡°I found the girl lying unconscious in Dandakaranya. When I was about to pick her up, an illusion was cast on me ¨C It felt so real, I struggled for some time before I could break free.¡± The old woman understood what had happened. ¡°It was not her,¡± she said. ¡°A preta made that illusion.¡± ¡°A preta?¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± said the old woman. ¡°It must have been trying to protect the girl.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± said the prince. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they could guard people. Is the preta related to the demons?¡± ¡°This particular one has no connections with the demons as far as I can sense,¡± said the old woman. ¡°It¡¯s harmless.¡± ¡°Hmmpf!¡± scoffed the prince. ¡°Harmless! That illusion was no joke!¡± The prince was about to begin a rant but he stopped himself. ¡°Avva, did you say, as far as you can sense, is the preta here, right now?!¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said the old woman. ¡°It is hovering near the girl.¡± ¡°¡­¡­¡­.¡± The prince turned around to look in the direction of the unconscious girl, he could not see anything out of the ordinary. A chill ran down his spines. He gripped the sword he had placed beside him for reassurance. A carrier pigeon arrived just then and entered the hut. As if sticking to an old rule, it walked to the old woman and nudged her with its beak. The old woman pet the bird lightly and carefully untied the paper tied to its feet. She felt it with her hands to read the message. ¡°You should head back,¡± she said and read out the message. ¡°Jatayu is falling.¡± ¡°What?¡± said the prince in disbelief getting up immediately. He paused only for a moment. ¡°I will be back avva. Please take care of her till then. She is the only lead I have right now.¡± ¡°Do not worry, child,¡± assured the old woman getting up with the help of her staff and seeing him off. ¡°This old one knows her duty.¡± The prince caught her frail hands and pressed them. ¡°Thank you, avva,¡± he said gently and left in a hurry getting on his reluctant disgruntled horse who had planned to take a nap after the long day''s ordeal.
Lady Sachi, queen of Swarga-loka, watched her husband, Lord Purandhara, in visible dismay. The sheer silk shawl draped over her, flowing from the chignon at the nape of her slender neck, fluttered in the softly blowing wind. The diadem on her head was bejeweled with diamonds. She wore her usual two-piece white silk dress, an upper garment covering her torso and a pleated saree maneuvered into a dhoti. Gold ornaments with beautiful designs and inlaid with precious gems covered her neck, hands, and feet. She looked ethereal as she stood in the floating pavilion. Her beautiful eyes were pregnant with concern and her comely lips were drawn into a thin line. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Lord Purandhara levitated at a distance from the divine barrier and kept directing the power of his weapon, Vajra, at it. The Vajra was a scepter with a sphere at its head surrounded by a double trident. Thunderbolts emanated from the glowing sphere and charged relentlessly towards the barrier. The barrier, in turn, absorbed these jolts continuously; the thunderbolts would spread across the barrier for a short while, their rumbles audible across the Swarga-loka before dying off. This was the fifth human day and Lord Purandhara showed no signs of stopping. ¡°Lord Vaiswa,¡± said Lady Sachi turning to the god who had joined her to watch the spectacle, ¡°are you not going to stop him? He is going to exhaust himself this way!¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be worried if I were you, Indrani,¡± returned Lord Vaiswa. He stood with his hands tied to his back. ¡°It¡¯s better than him taking it out on either of us.¡± ¡°You speak the truth,¡± agreed Lady Sachi nodding her head. ¡°His mood got much worse ever since you¡¯ve awoken.¡± She eyed him curiously. ¡°What did you tell him, Lord Vaiswa?¡± Lord Vaiswa coughed in response. ¡°Is Indrani holding me accountable for this?¡± he asked innocently. She pulled him by the ear. ¡°Of course I do!¡± she said. ¡°Only two people can put him in such a state. One of them is you!¡± Lord Vaiswa gently extricated his ear from Lady Sachi¡¯s grip and rubbed it. ¡°Indrani must show mercy on this weak one,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡± Lady Sachi opened her mouth to saying something but shook her head. ¡°When was I ever able to get anything out of you?¡± she sighed. Ahead of them, Lord Purandhara kept fighting a futile battle against the divine barrier.
"Can you hear me too, old one?" asked the preta. "Yes," replied the old woman, who now sat beside the girl. "Could you sense that young man''s sword as well?" the preta said. "Yes," the old woman replied. "Ohh! But you are a human," said the preta, scratching its make-believe head trying to figure the discrepancy out. It looked at the old woman for clues as she touched the girl''s forehead with her hand. It watched the old woman''s eyes keenly. "Why didn''t you tell the young man about her eminence?" inquired the preta. "You were trying to protect her?" "Her identity can become a danger to her when she is incapacitated like this," said the old woman. "While the young one who brought her here would cause her no harm, we cannot let anyone know who she is. It is up to her divinity to make such decisions." "You are wise, old one," appreciated the preta. "Why do you help her? Do you already know her?" "This is my first time, meeting her divinity," replied the old woman with patience. "Why would I help her? You may think of it as fate." The preta pondered over this. No-god God, I guess, we have help. Is my meeting you also fate? It thought to itself. "It''s because of your Agya chakra, isn''t it?" it asked after a while. The old woman by then had finished assessing the girl''s condition. "You can sense the otherworldly things because of it, correct?" "The preta is discerning," said the old woman with a smile. "Were you born blind, old one?" asked the preta, its curiosity getting better of it. "Yes," said the old woman. "Hmm," said the preta. "No wonder, the Agya chakra is so well developed, you must have been cultivating it since the beginning." "We get compensated for our infirmities, one way or the other," replied the old woman. "I haven''t received any compensation for being a restless spirit," muttered the preta. "But then again, not every preta gets to meet one of her kind." The preta referred to the girl. "Did you figure out what is wrong with her, old one?" "Her spiritual energy is depleted," said the old woman. "A major part of her spiritual essence is removed. Her body hasn''t adjusted to the loss yet." "Can you help her recover?" the preta asked. "Hmm," said the old woman. "I can try activating her Muladhara chakra. But it is only a temporary remedy. And I''m not entirely sure it would work." The preta considered this. The Muladhara chakra was the root chakra where divine energy manifested in dormant form. The preta did not know much about its underlying mechanism but it knew one thing - the girl has to regain her spiritual powers afresh. She was stripped of all of her powers at the moment. The old woman lifted the girl and made her seated in the lotus posture. She began transferring her spiritual energy through her palm and onto the back of the girl. The spiritual energy kept the girl steady in her seated position. Gentle waves of blue radiance passed from the old woman''s palm throughout the night. The preta kept vigil.
The early rays of the Sun diffused into the hut, the old woman still was passing on her spiritual energy to the girl. She began to show signs of weakness as her hand trembled. The preta kept watching them nervously. The girl''s eyes showed tiny movement. After some moments, she slowly opened them.
Indrani ¨C title signifying ¡°queen of Swarga-loka¡± {Indra (king of heaven) + rani(queen)} Vajra ¨C a powerful cosmic weapon known for its indestructibility and irresistible force Agya chakra - the chakra responsible for insight and perception Muladhara chakra - the root chakra at the base of the spine and the seat of kundalini, a form of divine energy, usually feminine in nature. the lotus posture - a cross-legged seating posture used for meditation. Chapter 8: Defence and Offence
Jatayu is falling. Aryaman¡¯s mind went numb when he had heard it. The Dayita kingdom had a simple set of coded missives for emergency situations. This particular one meant ¨C return at once and report to the king. Unless it was an urgent situation, missives such as these were not sent in order to prevent their misuse and abuse. Truly urgent situations were rare and this phrase had not been used in a long time. Aryaman remembered that they had not even used it to communicate the situation of the demons and the corpses to General Pushya. But then General Pushya had a firm opinion about demons and gods. According to him, the matters related to the other worlds did not concern humans. So, even if General Pushya had received the missive, he would not have appreciated being summoned back to the kingdom for fighting undead corpses. He would relegate these matters to the priests or shamans. My army is to protect the kingdom from the perils of the human world, he would have said with a stern look and steel eyes. As Himmat galloped towards the city, Aryaman tried to take deep breaths to calm himself down. He was agitated about the safety of the king. Nothing should happen to father, he thought. Aryaman tried to reason with himself that it was something other than the king being in danger. If the king was indeed in danger, such missives would not have been sent in the first place. But rationality and emotions hardly went together. Even the decision he had made, to go against the king, put him in great mental agony. In this entire world, for Aryaman, his father meant everything. If the king had asked him for his life, Aryaman would give it up for the king without a second thought. Think of alternatives, Aryaman told himself. Maybe it¡¯s an external threat. Or maybe the issue of the demons got resolved. The forest was empty, wasn¡¯t it? Maybe, they retreated. The contours of the city''s outer walls became visible as Aryaman rode closer towards Arang. The outposts and watchtowers were lit and were being patrolled by the royal guards. If the curfew had not been there, the large city outer gates might have been open. The city was trader and traveler-friendly and its gates were always open for visitors. Several merchants preferred traveling at night as it would save their daytime for trade. The western and southern travel routes were made safe from bandits a few decades earlier. This has led to increase in trade and prosperity for the Dayita kingdom. However, the closure of the city because of the demons and corpses temporarily put a hold on the burgeoning trade. When Aryaman reached the city gates, they were thus closed behind the moat. The guards were all on the other side. Aryaman whistled in code to catch the attention of the guards. One of the guards from the turret right above Aryaman looked down towards him. In the darkness, he could only see the dark figure of a man on a horse. Aryaman lit a small torch he carried and held it up such that it threw light on the royal sigil held with his other hand. It had the golden emblem of a lion. The royal guard at once shouted and gave orders for the gates to be opened. Four to five guards got to work and pulled the levers on either side of the gates. The heavy wooden doors opened slowly and a wooden plank was laid for the prince to cross over the moat and enter the city.
¡°Why are we afraid of a group of plundering mercenaries?¡± asked the chief of royal guards. ¡°No wonder you couldn¡¯t prevent the prince from escaping,¡± said the prime minister in return. The chief of royal guard¡¯s face became red with anger and embarrassment. He bit his tongue to avoid starting a verbal battle with the prime minister; he did not want to fall further from grace with the king, who was quietly watching the exchange between the two. ¡°Even strong kingdoms have vulnerable moments,¡± continued the prime minister. ¡°We have to acknowledge the constraints on our side. General Pushya has the majority of the army. We have some backup cavalry and the royal guards but they may not be useful in guerrilla warfare.¡± Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°The Kapala Army does not follow the ethics of war, they do not wage any dharmayuddha. They are the master experts in kutayuddha. Their motive is only plunder and destruction. If they make Northern Mines their base, it would make it convenient for them to retreat. Ultimately, it would become a war of attrition. We are running low on supplies. They may force us to open the gates or starve us in. Either way, if they resort to a waiting game, we would be in deep danger.¡± Aryaman entered the war room before the guard outside had finished announcing him. His eyes searched for the king, finding the latter in good state, Aryaman paid his respects. He then turned to the chief of royal guards and pulled both his ears with his hands, gesturing his apology. The chief gave him a curt nod. He wished the prime minister, who smiled at him warmly and quickly briefed him on the matter of the Kapala army. ¡°That is why we should all the more focus on a quick offence!¡± said the prince after listening to the whole affair. ¡°We should take them out in the Northern Mines itself before they can reach Arang. That way we can minimize the causalities, civilians will not be affected.¡± ¡°The Northern Mines will give them the advantage of terrain,¡± said the prime minister. ¡°They benefit from the vantage point of the hill and they can hide in the mines. Our troops will be on the plains. It could be disastrous for us.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said the prince. ¡°What if we lead them to believe that but keep our tactics varied.¡± The prince narrated his strategy in detail to the limited audience. By the end, both the king and the prime minister were convinced. The chief of royal guards thought the plan was a bit far-fetched but did not air his opinions.
General Pushya stood above the chained old man with an eerie look on his face. The scars on his face appeared menacing in the dim light of the prison cell. The whip in his hand quivered from repeated use. He bent down and rested on one knee, the chainmail he wore rattled from the movement. He grabbed the chin of the old man and pushed it up. Exhausted by continuous torture, the old man¡¯s eyes drooped, his breath was pained and uneven. ¡°Why won¡¯t you tell me where it is?¡± General Pushya asked again. ¡°Is it more important than your life?¡­ Your family?¡­ Your kingdom?¡± The old man did not respond. He held his lips tight. ¡°You will leave me no choice if you continue like this,¡± he said. ¡°This sort of idealism is dangerous, old friend.¡± The old man murmured something, his voice was inaudible. ¡°Say what?¡± said the general. ¡°You are¡­,¡± said the old man raising his voice this time and looking at General Pushya, with the last ounces of his energy. ¡°¡­not worthy.¡± Hearing those words, anger erupted inside the general. He pushed the old man down with force. He tightened his grip on the whip and the prison cell became charged again with the recurring cracking of the lash on the old man¡¯s frail skin.
Aryaman was finally left alone with the king. He stood a few feet from the king, rubbing his hands behind his back. How should I start? he thought. For some time now both of them had been silent, wanting to speak out but words failing each. ¡°I wish to speak to your highness as a son,¡± said Aryaman gathering himself. ¡°Go on,¡± replied the king quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t feel good about what you did, father,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°I know why you did it. You want to test my intentions, whether I would make the right choice when the situation arises. But I don¡¯t like these kinds of tests.¡± His voice started to break. ¡°I feel betrayed,¡± said Aryaman trying to maintain his calm but unable to hold it together. "I feel that...my trust is being taken for granted." The king looked at his son and was at a loss for words. He extended his hand, it hung in mid-air for some time before he pulled it back. ¡°I am sorry,¡± he said at length. ¡°Sometimes, I have to make decisions as a king and not as a father.¡± ¡°I understand all of this,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°I just want you to know I feel hurt even though I know your reasoning behind it.¡± ¡°I know,¡± said the king with an understanding nod. ¡°I do not take your trust for granted, Arya. I need you to believe that.¡± Aryaman was quiet. The hard part was over and he started to feel better. He wanted to hug his father. His father wanted to hug him too. Both did not act on their impulses. ¡°How can I make amends?¡± asked the king in a gentle tone. ¡°I don¡¯t want this to be seen as some quid pro quo, father,¡± said Aryaman and paused for a moment. ¡°When I chose a guru next time, you must not let General Pushya interfere.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said the king. ¡°You have my word.¡±
kutayuddha ¨C devious warfare dharma-yuddha ¨C righteous warfare Chapter 9: Some Remember, Some Forget Lord Samye entered the empty floating pavilion in the far South of the Swarga-loka. Ever since the disruption of the Grand Commemoration Day he had been feeling uneasy. Hearing the name of General Atisha after some many centuries opened a door in his heart and mind he had long closed. ¡°General Atisha,¡± he said to himself. Sometimes, Lord Samye felt like he was an imposter and a knave. Yet, the tales he had told the younger gods on that day were indeed true. He had severed the heads of several vile rakshasas and he did play a critical role in the war that led to their victory. But who taught you the ways of the war? his inner voice asked him. Who taught you the techniques? the skills? the discipline? ¡°General Atisha,¡± he said again. ¡°This chela did not forget you.¡± He fell to his knees. This empty pavilion with a small pond at the center used to be the place General Atisha visited the most. In one of her travels during the Great Drought, she had saved three fish and brought them here. Receiving her grace, the fish became immortal but the general still visited the pond and fed the fish herself. ¡°Why does the General indulge in such silly tasks?¡± Lord Samye had once asked her. She looked up and smiled gently, her innocence shining as a bright halo around her. If Lord Samye had not witnessed her wrath during the Great War, he would have never in his entire life imagined her to be the God of War, feared and revered in all of the three worlds. Glimpses of her illustrious deeds flashed in his mind - how she scaled the mighty mountain Meru in one leap, how her four sacred weapons saved the Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka from the scourge of various demon lords, her true god form which Lord Samye had the good fortune to witness with his own eyes. ¡°I want them to know they matter,¡± she said simply. Yes, for this general, all her soldiers mattered. All who came under her grace mattered, no one was inconsequential. Lord Samye understood this better than anyone else. He was one of those ¡°inconsequential¡± people ¨C a nobody discarded at birth. She had taken him in, brought him up, and taught him everything he knew. He lit three incense sticks and placed them in the marble holder and bowed eight times in front of the pond, touching his head to the floor each time. Tears he had long suppressed started flowing down his cheeks unabated. ¡°My guru, my general, my savior.¡±
The girl looked at the old woman, the old woman turned towards the preta and the preta looked at the girl. The hut was bright with the late morning sun. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°So, you don¡¯t remember who you are?¡± the old woman asked again. ¡°Yes,¡± said the girl, her eyes clouded in confusion. The old woman sighed deeply, she was exhausted from the last night¡¯s ordeal and yet the result seemed to have gone awry. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said the preta. ¡°Why can¡¯t she remember?¡± ¡°My spiritual energy must have caused some reaction,¡± said the old woman. ¡°It might not have been pure enough, I am only an ordinary mortal after all.¡± ¡°What is avva saying?¡± asked the girl. The preta came hovering near the girl, was trying to get her attention by passing in front of her and around her. ¡°No-god God!¡± it kept on saying. The old woman had had enough of this. ¡°She can¡¯t hear you or see you,¡± said the old woman. ¡°She is an ordinary human for now.¡± The preta did not seem to accept this. ¡°Your eminence,¡± it continued. ¡°Please look at me, I am here, right here.¡± It waved its make-believe hands to no avail. The old woman shook her head. She turned to the girl. ¡°This avva talks to herself at times, little one,¡± said the old woman. ¡°Ignore this old one.¡± The girl was about to reply but her stomach made angry rumbling noises. ¡°Avva,¡± she said scratching her head sheepishly, ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡± The preta looked at the girl and finally realized its futile efforts. The girl did not eat or drink in all of the time, the preta had spent with her. You were a god, your eminence, it thought. Is the sealing of the barrier worth this sacrifice?
The nagini was seated on her crystal dais and listened to the demon lord Raktabija¡¯s assessment regarding the sealing of the Dandakaranya barrier. ¡°Lady Visha¡¯ra,¡± concluded Raktabija after telling her the details. ¡°The barrier¡¯s seal cannot be opened until we get to the other side on Bhu-loka.¡± Lady Visha¡¯ra rubbed her head with her hand. ¡°Let me understand properly,¡± she said. ¡°The spiritual essence sealing the barrier is so powerful that you, the demon lord of a hundred thousand rakshasas cannot break it?¡± ¡°My apologies, Lady Visha¡¯ra,¡± replied Raktabija bowing his head that had two wide horns. ¡°So unless we resolve this situation,¡± continued Lady Visha¡¯ra, ¡°Khaluk cannot be dispersed on Bhu-loka?¡± ¡°Yes, my lady,¡± said Raktabija. ¡°What¡¯s the nearest portal to Bhu-loka from here?¡± Lady Visha¡¯ra asked. ¡°The Great Abyss of Talatala,¡± replied Raktabija. Lady Visha¡¯ra frowned and her headache intensified. ¡°That would take some time,¡± she said. ¡°Do we have any other means till then?¡± ¡°We can leverage the pretas on Bhu-loka,¡± said Raktabija. ¡°Recently, an entire village was wiped out. But we need corpses for them to act.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Lady Visha¡¯ra and a small smile appeared on her face. ¡°That can be managed.¡±
The chief of the Kapala Army was deep inside the mines. He surveyed the map tattooed on his left arm as he held the torch with his right hand. The air was thinner in these parts and his breathing became faster and deeper. Just a little bit more, he reassured himself and walked deeper inside the narrowing tunnel.
The spiritual essence holding the cave¡¯s barrier from the inside illuminated Lady Visha¡¯ra¡¯s beautiful face. Her eyes looked at the glowing orb in awe and reverence. She raised her fingers and lightly caressed the air around the orb. For the first time in a long time, she just let her true emotions surface. She knew she could not hold on to them for long. ¡°Atisha,¡± she said in a soft voice. ¡°How long will you persevere?¡±
chela ¨C disciple Khaluk ¨C darkness ¨C in this context, the dark energy that was dissipating from the cave. Chapter 10: Priorities Deep within the Northern Mines following a secret passageway only known to the leaders of Kapala Army, the current chief persisted on as the air supply dwindled and the flame in his hand began to waver. He soon reached a dead-end and pressed certain hard to find points on the rock wall in front of him. His grip on the torch he was holding weakened as he found it difficult to breathe and his head started to feel dizzy. He placed his free hand on the wall for support. A small crevice opened up and revealed a sparkling green diamond. The man hesitated for a moment and picked up the gem. A dark miasma started to envelop him as his fingers folded over the gem.
Aryaman sat cross-legged before his sword and looked at it with intent; it was hanging from the armor stand. He had little time to process what had happened in the forest of Dandakaranya. He had not spoken the divine tongue in several years. His late mother had taught him the language and had entrusted him the sword. But he didn¡¯t realize until then that both were connected. He needed to find a guru soon. He needed to figure out the issue of the demons and the corpses. The current pressing issue, however, was the threat of the Kapala Army. His plan was a viable one but he pushed it back in his mind for the time being. For now, he wanted to process all the events that had occurred in the past few days. He got up with a start. ¡°A bath!¡± he said to himself. The prince¡¯s quarters had a large lavish bath hall. The fresh smell of sandalwood lingered in the air. He sat on the edge of the pool, with legs in the water, and began to disrobe himself. The exhaustion of the recent days finally caught up with him. He had a couple of hours to himself before he met up with the royal guards. He wanted to be fully charged and functional before he started organizing the troops. As he undid his clothes, he felt something in his sash and pulled out a metal hairpin. Recognition hit his eyes, this probably belonged to the little girl. He had picked it up from the forest floor. He looked at it for a while and kept it aside carefully beside his clothes and got into the water. He took a few dives and rested on the underwater stairs at one side of the pool, fully submerged except for his head and his eyes closed. ¡°Arya, prioritize,¡± he told himself. ¡°What outcomes can you control?¡± He waited for himself to answer. ¡°I can investigate the matter of the demons and the corpses,¡± he continued. ¡°Maybe once the girl regains consciousness, I can find more clues. Depending on the leads, I would know what further actions I should take.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± his interviewer self acknowledged. ¡°But irrespective of that, I need to learn how to use the daityahan asi,¡± he resumed. ¡°Can I find a guru in Arang?¡± His found his earlier guru by accident during one of his escapades. His guru had been an interesting teacher but also an unreliable one because his teachings were gained from scriptures and not from practical application. So, while Aryaman did learn a few things, his questions were often met with cryptic silence. Learning something in Aryaman¡¯s thinking was better than being ignorant. However, he did prefer a more apprenticeship-oriented approach. He frowned slightly thinking how General Pushya deprived him of a scarce resource. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Ohh!¡± He opened his eyes. He realized then, it would be his first real assignment of leading the troops since General Pushya was away. He grinned for a while. He had to get this right. In his excitement, he was about to jump out of the water when he realized ¨C ¡°Priorities,¡± he repeated to himself. ¡°I will anyways deal with the Kapala Army situation. Let me plan out the other things for a short while.¡± He closed his eyes again and started talking to himself.
General Pushya considered acting on his threat to the old king jailed in the dungeons beneath the palace. He paced across the open hall with long strides. It was empty, his soldiers had secured the palace and imprisoned its residents to one quarter at the far end. He shifted his armor even now and then to let the air in, the humidity of the region was aggravating. He was reluctant to remove his armor, the armor made the man and added to his menacing aura. Let me give him some time, he thought to himself. I am not unreasonable. I am a patient man. Bloodshed would be annoying. His soldiers kept guard on the lower floor and across the palace at regular intervals. Presently, a carrier pigeon flew towards him and landed on the parapet wall in the open balcony. The General took the missive tied to its feet and read it. Jatayu is falling, it read. He stared at the parchment for a while. Acting on the missive and returning back to Arang would upset his plans and put him back to square one. This campaign was meticulously planned for some years. Not acting on it would mean treason. Caught in this dilemma, he resumed pacing in the hall albeit with increased speed and visible irritation.
The girl had eaten her fill of the leftover porridge and regained her energy. The old woman requested a brief nap and fell into a deep sleep. The girl looked around for a while and as nine-year-olds often do, she started getting restless and roamed in and out of the hut for some time before deciding to explore more of the outside world. Presently, she climbed a nearby tree wanting to get a vantage point and get a better sense of her surroundings. The preta accompanied her, fretting over and beseeching her with futility to get back to the hut. The girl who could not hear the preta now climbed higher and stopped after finding a suitable side branch. Silly child! it shouted. Get back to the ground! The preta was annoyed. It was not a babysitter. This was not what it had signed up for when it said it would accompany No-god God. Its agitated hovered near the girl wringing its make-believe arms. I don¡¯t have to this, it said to itself. I made the vow to a god and not a mortal. So, I can just leave. Who knows when she will regain her memories and powers. Spiritual depletion is not a small thing. The girl by now leaned farther towards the end of the branch to look towards the city of Arang. The turrets were visible at a distance and she strained her eyes to look beyond. I¡¯m leaving, the preta said to itself but did not move. The branch where the girl stood started to bend and crack at the base. The preta got worried. It could cast an illusion but what if that scared the girl and she slipped? Mortals are fragile and prone to injury. Little mortals such as this young one even more so. The girl then heard a bird¡¯s call from the other side of the tree. Curious, she turned and walked back to the trunk. It spotted a golden bird on one of the lower branches. She looked at it in amazement for some time and then slowly climbed to the level where the bird was. The bird looked like a koyal but its feathers were golden and sparkled in daylight. Spotting the girl, it lowered itself to another branch. The girl followed. It lowered itself further and then finally jumped to the ground and started pecking on some fallen berries. The girl slowly got down afraid of making any noise and watched the bird. The bird hopped here and there and came to rest on the water trough outside of the thatched hut and made loud calls for some time. After a while, the old woman came out and beckoned the girl in. ¡°But avva see the golden bird!¡± said the girl. ¡°There is no golden bird child,¡± said the old woman. And the bird disappeared. Perplexed the girl looked at the water trough for a long time before going inside with the old woman. ¡°But I saw it!¡± said the girl in confusion. The old woman nodded. ¡°Come sit down,¡± she said. The girl sat down by her side obediently. ¡°Let me tell you about pretas.¡±
koyal ¨C Cuckoo bird Chapter 11: Preparations Aryaman watched as the guards assembled on the grounds for his address. He could see them line them up in perfect straight lines. He waited for a couple of minutes before he came forward onto the raised platform. General Pushya usually addressed the soldiers from the parapet of the military training fortress. General Pushya liked to keep distance between himself, particularly vertical distance between himself and his soldiers. Soldiers were supposed to look up to him at all times. The distance would instill in them, awe and fear. Without them, soldiers would not be able to maintain continuous levels of discipline. Without discipline, an army is useless. Aryaman agreed that discipline was important for an army to succeed but he did not separate himself from his soldiers. In his mind, he was one among them. A brother in arms. Someone who would lead his fellow soldiers from the front and keep their backs safe when needed. To cultivate loyalty and discipline, according to Aryaman, one must actively show loyalty and discipline first. What the leader is in person, the soldier would try to emulate him in nature. The chief of royal guards stood behind the prince and tried to hide his anxiety. Lord! Please save us! This shouldn¡¯t end up being a costly mistake. ¡°Brothers!¡± Aryaman¡¯s loud and clear voice silenced the crowd. ¡°We are gathered today to resolve an immediate crisis.¡± The soldiers were in attention with solemn faces as Aryaman proceeded to briefly explain the Kapala Army threat and proceeded to elaborate on the vyuhas and logistics issues. The soldiers were divided into three groups and each group was assigned a different battle formation. By the end, each soldier felt confident about what they were individually supposed to do. ¡°The key to our victory would be in speed,¡± reiterated the prince. ¡°The quicker we can take out the Kapala Army, the lesser would be our casualties and the better our chances of victory.¡± ¡°That¡¯s how we are going to win,¡± ended Aryaman in a calm voice. ¡°Long live Dayita!¡± ¡°Long live Dayita! Long live Dayita!¡± echoed the soldiers in unison raising their right arms upwards. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Aryaman was composed on the outside but the spectacle in front of him moved him. He felt a momentary rush of adrenaline, pumping him up. He would win and show his style of leadership to his father. However, he immediately sobered up. The warriors in front of him were his responsibility. Their lives and fates were now in his hands. He took a deep breath. I will keep you brothers safe, he thought to himself.
General Pushya bent on one knee such that he could see the old man eye-to-eye. He was sober now, having reigned his anger, he saw the futility of threatening an intractable old man. ¡°What?¡± said the old man, raising his eyebrows and pulling his tired self together. ¡°If I¡¯m not worthy, King Nahusha,¡± repeated the General. ¡°Tell me, who is worthy of its possession.¡± ¡°Why?¡± said the old man. ¡°I¡¯ll help you give it to that person,¡± said the General. ¡°Why would you do that?¡± said the old man. ¡°And why should I trust you?¡± The general smiled. He was in a happy mood. ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked,¡± he said getting up. He needed to stand before he made this proposition. He traced back a few steps so that he could see the old man properly and tied his hands to his back. ¡°I do see the merit of win-win situations,¡± said the General. ¡°But I¡¯m not opposed to lose-lose conditions as well.¡± ¡°If you tell me who is worthy, I will make sure, you personally give it to that person,¡± said the General. ¡°In which case, your obligation to it would end and you can lead your life peacefully with the knowledge that the gem is with the right person.¡± ¡°You would then take it from this person whoever it is?¡± said the old man. ¡°Well, let¡¯s consider this case, if the person is indeed worthy, I wouldn¡¯t be able to take it from them. Would I?¡± asked the General. ¡°You would win.¡± The old man thought this over. ¡°If I can gain the gem from that person, wouldn¡¯t that imply my worthiness of its possession?¡± said the General. ¡°Even in this case, you win.¡± The old man was silent. ¡°Say, you wouldn¡¯t even let the worthy person have it in fear of me,¡± said the General. ¡°The outcomes are predictable ¨C either I kill you or you would kill yourself to escape me. I may not get the gem and you will not have entrusted it to its worthy master. I would lose, yes. But, you would also lose equally.¡± The old man did not have a counter to this. ¡°See the beauty of it all ¨C we can cooperate while maintaining our mutual distrust and antipathy,¡± said the General. He smiled wryly and ended his little speech with rhetoric: ¡°Why lose when you can win?¡°
vyuhas ¨C battle formations Chapter 12: Well-Laid Plans The mist engulfed the foothills of the Northern Mines, the air was cold and the sun had not yet risen. Northern Mines was unusual for a mine. It was inside a hill unlike being underground. Many decades ago, it held hordes of precious gems, a rarity in the region and neighbouring areas. They were all mined out by the Dayita kingdom, contributing partly to its prosperity. Faint rumours of yesteryears whispered about yakshas, the forest spirits who possessed magical powers and took care of the mines. Fainter whispers spoke of how the Dayita ancestors purged these yakshas from the Northern Mines for their material greed. A Kapala soldier stood vigil on the top of the Northern Mines, his black cloak fluttering against a biting cold breeze that made him shiver. He tried to warm his hands with the torch that was lit beside him. Looking towards the city of Arang, he smirked, soon they would lay siege on the city and plunder it to their heart¡¯s content. He looked below and saw the thick mist at the foothills. Something seemed off. Was it movement he noticed? He lit another torch and threw it towards the foothill and saw the glint of metal shields and soldiers waiting in ambush. He snatched his whistle in a hurry and let the shrill noise shatter the silent dawn. At once, various crevices on the facade of the dark hill were lit with the glow of torches. Arrows rained from the sky as the black-masked Kapala soldiers released them from the large openings in the middle of the hilltop towards the bottom of the hill piercing into the curtains of mist. The clank of hundreds of these arrows as they hit the dome of shields held by the Dayita Army reverberated in the early morning air. At the foothill, Aryaman raised his sword in the air, and uttered the battle cry, ¡°To victory!¡± And led the charge of a part of his army into the entrance of the hill. His battle strategy was a simple one, it played on the information and understanding he had of the Kapala Army and the Northern Mines, whose layout he had studied from the maps procured from the palace archives. He fervently hoped that most of the information was true and accurate. Winning depended on it. The safety of Arang, his capital city, depended on it. Aryaman¡¯s plan had 5 steps. Step #1 was to take the enemy by surprise. Step #2 was to gain a psychological advantage over the enemy, and appear to be larger and stronger than they actually were. Step #3 was to stealthily take down their main leaders. Step #4 was to surround them and block their exit. Step #5 was victory. The key to all of it was speed. Aryaman led the charge of one of the formations, which was a narrow straight strip of soldiers, into the mines. The entrance to the mines opened to a vast, echoing cave guarded by some Kapala soldiers and all the Kapala Army horses, were housed towards the far end of the cave. As Aryaman¡¯s group broke into the mines, a second group of the Dayita army surrounded the hill in another formation and blocked external exits. A smaller and stealthier third group led by Sanjaya, a trusted aide of Aryaman and master of spies sneaked into the upper reaches of the hill through narrow tunnels inside the mine¡¯s entrance as Aryaman and his group fought the oncoming Kapala soldiers. The troop leaders of the Kapala Army distinguished by the twin lines on each cheek on their black masks assessed the situation from one of the openings in the hillside. This attack by the Dayita Army caught them off guard. The Dayita Army seemed to have a sizeable number of soldiers. Did they get the wrong intel that most of the army was away on a campaign? They had to take charge before the situation spiralled out of control. ¡°We have to send some of our troops down to stop them from advancing, the remaining of us can take them out from here,¡± said one of the troop leaders. ¡°Hmm,¡± said another. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. A Kapala soldier entered and bowed before the troop leaders. ¡°Did you find the chief?¡± A troop leader asked the soldier. ¡°No, troop leader Lakhan,¡± said the Kapala soldier. ¡°Of all the times!¡± muttered the first troop leader. ¡°Let¡¯s not lose our cool,¡± said troop leader Lakhan. ¡°We can hold the fort till the chief comes, he¡¯ll get everything in control. I¡¯ll head down with my troopers to fight them, you guys help me from up here.¡± Aryaman surged forward like a lightning bolt with his sword and took one Kapala soldier after the one that came his way. His men followed suit and took down most of the Kapala soldiers within minutes. Aryaman raised his hand and gestured to some of his men to free the horses and led the others towards a narrow tunnel-like path up the interiors of the hill. The next moment, from the path, troop leader Lakhan and his men rushed toward Aryaman and his men stopping them from advancing. Sparks flew as Lakhan¡¯s sword clashed with Aryaman¡¯s. Aryaman pressed his sword against Lakhan¡¯s who held firmly on his own. He manoeuvred his sword and quickly hit Aryaman with his elbow. Aryaman reeled backwards, and having gained breathing space, Lakhan attacked Aryaman to gain an advantage. Aryaman dodged the attack and swung his sword at him, catching him in a deadlock with their swords locked. As the clatter of the swords echoed in the hollow caves of the mines, Sanjaya and his men dressed in black robes and crossbows hung over their backs and made their way towards the upper part of the mines. Having found a good spot to hide, they lay on the ground, crossbow placed at eye level and aimed at the troop leaders who were still guiding the Kapala Army to release arrows towards the Dayita men surrounding the hill. The poisoned arrows from the crossbow whistled through the air and took the troop leaders down in an instant. The remaining Kapala men went into panic and disarray and started to run amok. A shrill noise pierced through the hollow caves. That was a signal from Sanjaya that he had taken down the troop leaders. Good job, Sanjaya, Aryaman thought to himself. Aryaman and the troop leader stared at each other a few feet apart, with their swords drawn. The fight was dragging towards a stalemate. The thought hit Aryaman like a flash, the Kapala army troop leader was not trying to defeat him, he was trying to deter him. He was buying time. But for what? Or for whom?
The old woman had gotten up early that day and readied food for the journey ahead. The preta watched as the old woman went about her tasks and got the little girl ready. ¡°Little child, we will go find the preceptor today,¡± said the old woman. ¡°He will help us to help you.¡± ¡°Why do I need help, avva?¡± asked the girl innocently. ¡°To know about what you are meant to do in this world, child,¡± replied the old woman. ¡°I see,¡± said the girl, pondering the meaning of it. ¡°Who is this preceptor avva? Is he qualified to let me know what I¡¯m supposed to be doing?¡± The old woman laughed a little in surprise. Her eminence possessed a sharp and sound mind irrespective of her age or loss of memory. ¡°Why don¡¯t you judge for yourself when we meet him, little one?¡± encouraged the old woman. Somewhat satisfied with the answer, the little girl was deep in her own thoughts. The trio set out towards the city of Arang. ¡°Are you sure the preceptor would be able to help her Highness?¡± asked the preta for the third time. ¡°Yes, I believe so,¡± answered the old woman, her voice gentle without any trace of annoyance at the repeated questions. The preceptor in question was an old and wise monk, who lived on the outskirts of Arang in the direction opposite to where the old woman¡¯s hut was located. The walls of the city came into sight. The preta looked at the protective charms against the undead placed on the gates. ¡°The charms!" The preta stopped in its tracks. "I cannot enter the city because of the charms." ¡°Hmm,¡± said the old woman, she stopped walking. ¡°That does create a hindrance. It would delay us by a day if we bypassed the city.¡± The preta fell silent. The old woman waited for him to resume talking. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a bother,¡± it said finally. ¡°I¡¯ll get to the preceptor¡¯s place by myself, I anyways can travel faster than you two can walk.¡± ¡°Are you sure about it?¡± said the old woman. ¡°Won¡¯t you get lost?¡± ¡°Lost?¡± The preta gave a little laugh. ¡°How can pretas get lost? I¡¯ll be alright.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see you on the other side then,¡± said the old woman bidding goodbye to the preta. When she reached the gates, she showed a token to the guards who opened the gates for her. Chapter 13: Even the Best Laid Plans Can Go Awry The hollow cave inside the hill of Northern Mines reeked of blood, fallen soldiers, and death. The Dayita Army continued to fight the Kapala troops at ground level. Aryaman was engaged in a one-on-one fight with the Kapala troop leader. At the upper reaches of the mines, Sanjaya and his men were getting the remaining leaderless Kapala troops under their control. Aryaman feigned an attack on the troop leader, and as the troop leader followed to block a perceived attack, Aryaman swerved and got behind the troop leader, capturing him in a headlock with his right arm and knocking the troop leader¡¯s sword out with his other hand. ¡°Where is your leader?¡± Aryaman questioned him. Aryaman had sensed something was amiss earlier; Sanjaya was able to take down the other troop leaders rather quickly. While he didn¡¯t doubt Sanjaya¡¯s capabilities, the Kapala Army wasn¡¯t to be underestimated either. Upon hearing no answer, Aryaman strengthened his grip on the troop leader and the latter choked from the increased pressure. ¡°Answer me!¡± said Aryaman. Just then an explosion with shattering sound filled the air and huge balls of fire came flowing down the path from the upper reaches. Taking advantage of the chaos, the troop leader broke free from Aryaman¡¯s grip. ¡°There he is!¡± He sneered, running away and disappeared into the cave. Aryaman coughed from the rising smoke inside the cave and looked over the vast cave as his men and the Kapala soldiers ran amok trying to dodge the balls of fire. He whistled to catch the attention of the second-in-command in his group. ¡°Your Highness,¡± came his second-in-command running towards him. ¡°Let me get you to safety.¡± ¡°Anila! Evacuate everyone here immediately,¡± said the prince. ¡°I mean everyone, including the Kapala troops. We have enough soldiers outside to take them as hostages.¡± ¡°Your Highness,¡± cried Anila in earnest. ¡°Your safety comes first!¡± ¡°Nonsense!¡± said the prince. ¡°Don¡¯t waste time! Hurry up! Let me check on Sanjaya and others. We¡¯ll follow you guys shortly. Stay safe!¡± Having said those words, Aryaman ran into the path leading to the upper reaches, deftly moving from place to place to avoid the raging flames from the balls of fire. Anila took command at once, climbed a huge boulder to gain a view of the cave and whistled thrice for all his men to stop and quickly look at him. He raised his hand straight, then raised it forward. At once, the soldiers quickly formed two strips of amorphous lines adjusting to the space between the fires and proceeded to move out of the cave. The Kapala soldiers followed suit in tacit consent, and neither the Dayita men nor the Kapala men attacked one another. The fire became a common enemy for the time being, and escaping it, their top priority. Aryaman found Sanjaya and his men along with the Kapala troops trapped by a couple of boulders preventing their escape from the fire in the upper reaches. ¡°Sanjaya!¡± Shouted Aryaman on top of his lungs, his voice cut through the roar of the fire. ¡°Here, your Highness!¡± came Sanjaya¡¯s reply from behind a wall of fallen boulders. Quickly assessing the situation, Aryaman searched for and found a long wooden pole nearby. ¡°Get back!¡± he yelled to Sanjaya and the others. He jammed the pole into a gap between the boulders and pushed hard, his muscles tensing with the effort. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Push!¡± he grunted to those on the other side. Sanjaya and his men pushed as ordered from their side. After a few tries, the boulders moved slowly, creating a narrow opening. Sanjaya and the trapped soldiers rushed through, coughing from the smoke. ¡°Quickly, this way!¡± said Aryaman standing to the side as he directed the men downwards to evacuate. ¡°Your Highness,¡± said Sanjaya. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go ahead first? I¡¯ll stay back till everywhere clears out from here.¡± ¡°Sanjaya,¡± said the prince. ¡°Can you do that? I want to check something quickly. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Without waiting for a reply, Aryaman went further into the hollow caves leaving a puzzled Sanjaya to look after the evacuation. The Kapala Chief and the troop leader could still be inside the Northern Mines. As Aryaman ran and searched from one place to another, he finally two silhouettes against a large crevice that opened outwards. They were talking to themselves. Aryaman tip-toed to move closer to them without making any sound. Before he could reach them, one of two men had sensed Aryaman. He murmured something to the other, who nodded and jumped out of the crevice. Aryaman stopped in his tracks. The silhouette came out of the shadows and into the light. He wore a black mask with a sun on the forehead. His cloak fluttered against the wind from the crevice. He drew out his weapon, the whip-sword, a whip with sinuous metal blades. A faint dark miasma seemed to be surrounding him. This was the Kapala chief. Aryaman tightened the grip on his own sword. Before Aryaman could react, the Kapala chief lashed his whip-sword at him with remarkable speed. The tips of the whip-sword stung Aryaman¡¯s hand with such force that he let go of his grip and the sword fell from his hands. Before the sword could hit the ground, Aryaman was hit with a ball of fire in the chest that sent him backwards and into a wall. The last thing, he saw before losing consciousness was the Kapala chief gripping his heart and escaping from the crevice.
The Heavenly Assembly was a full house with all of the gods in attendance. Even Lord Vaiswa was in the court, on the right to Lord Purandhara, the heavenly emperor. The apsaras who entertained the gods in the assembly with their song and dance, took furtive glances at Lord Vaiswa, their eyes soaking in the beauty of the stoic god. ¡°Everyone! Let me first give you an assessment of the situation,¡± said Lord Purandhara. ¡°It is true that the barrier between the Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka is sealed. It is also true that as all the gods are present in Swarga-loka at the moment, the seal cannot be opened from one side alone,¡± said Lord Purandhara A wave of murmurs erupted in the court. ¡°How is that possible?¡± ¡°What will happen to us then?¡± ¡°Are we really gods if we can¡¯t descend to Bhu-loka and take care of our devotees??¡± ¡°How long can we continue like this?¡± ¡°If we don¡¯t answer our people¡¯s prayers from Bhu-loka, we may soon be forgotten, and people may even become faithless!¡± ¡°Gods,¡± said Lord Purandhara loudly silencing the murmurs. ¡°We have the situation in control. It¡¯s for not for no reason that I¡¯m the ruler of the heavens.¡± Lord Purandhara smiled with absolute confidence. Lord Vaiswa¡¯s expression became grim. Lady Sachi who was seated on the balcony above the heavenly court looked at her husband curiously. ¡°I have contacted the Preceptor of Heavenly Conduit on Bhu-loka,¡± Lord Purandhara continued. ¡°Fortunately for us, there is an ancient god on Earth. For the time being, this god can take care of the things on Bhu-loka while we come up with a plan to unseal the barrier.¡± An ancient god? thought Lord Bhoja. Could it be¡ª?! His eyes widened in surprise as he narrowed the possibility of who this ancient god could be. He looked at Lord Vaiswa, whose expression was difficult to read. Lord Samye was also looking at Lord Vaiswa at the same moment and he caught Lord Bhoja doing the same. He pursed his lips in thought. ¡°I heard the son of Ila has come of age in Bhu-loka,¡± said another god. ¡°He could also help for the time being.¡± ¡°Is it?¡± said Lord Purandhara. ¡°Interesting, I¡¯ll look into it.¡± Lady Sachi looked on with special interest. The son of Ila? she thought. Ila is not going to be happy when she hears this. ¡°Let us then focus on what we can do from here in Swarga-loka,¡± said Lord Purandhara. ¡°Dear gods, you can still receive appeals from your devotees, you can still oversee them. Let¡¯s make the most of that, what do you say?"
The preta was gliding past the outskirts of Arang muttering to itself. As it was daytime, its acute sensitivity to heat tormented it. This preta is always so wretched, it feels like there¡¯s an oasis but it¡¯s only a mirage. There¡¯s no end of torment for this wretched preta. There¡¯s no end! It kept wailing to itself. Just then it saw a bullock cart with two men carrying goods, moving away from the city of Arang. Hehe, humans, humans! Two humans to scare! It thought to itself and followed the bullock cart to spook the humans as a distraction from the scorching heat. Chapter 14: The Preceptor of Heavenly Conduit
The old woman and the girl looked at the cave ahead of them by the countryside. ¡°This is it,¡± said the old woman, taking hold of the girl¡¯s hand and headed inside the cave. ¡°Irawati!¡± said an old man, with silver hair with a top knot and a long silver beard. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you after a long time!¡± ¡°Preceptor, honoured to be in your presence again,¡± the old woman smiled and bowed her head clasping her hands to her heart. The old man¡¯s eyes shifted to the girl standing beside the old woman, the girl was looking at him with her sizing eyes. ¡°Your eminence,¡± said the preceptor addressing the young girl and bowed in return to her. ¡°It¡¯s my life¡¯s great honour to meet you.¡± The young girl narrowed her eyes at the respect she was being given. He seems to be a person with significant spiritual power. But, I must be someone more powerful or well-respected than him, she thought to herself. ¡°You are?¡± the girl asked him. ¡°I¡¯m the Preceptor of Heavenly Conduit,¡± said the old man with a wide smile. ¡°I receive the heaven¡¯s mandate on Bhu-loka.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said the young girl. ¡°And I am?¡± She asked. The preceptor chuckled. ¡°You must find that out for yourself, your eminence,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°My duty is only to aid you to the extent of the heavenly mandate.¡± The girl puckered her eyebrows in annoyance. ¡°What does the heavenly mandate say?¡± said the girl. ¡°Irawati,¡± the preceptor turned to the old woman. ¡°May I have a private chat with her eminence?¡± The old woman nodded, looked at the girl to reassure her that it was alright and stepped outside. The preceptor gestured the girl to be seated on a flat rock and he himself sat down on the raised platform in the cave. ¡°Some rouge pretas and rakshasas are roaming the Bhu-loka, your eminence,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°You are tasked with capturing them and restoring order till the barrier between Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka is unsealed.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± pondered the girl, somehow the news though alien to her did not surprise her, it was as if she had known about it but had forgotten the matter. She knew without hesitation that the task was something she should be doing. ¡°How am I supposed to do that?¡± asked the girl. ¡°I will help you, of course,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°Your spiritual core is removed, I am not sure why. Irawati, probably trying to help you, transferred her spiritual powers to you but your body has not been able to process and use them. You also may have lost your memories as an unintended side effect.¡± The girl listened closely to what the preceptor was saying. It seemed possible. Losing a spiritual core was not a small matter, her powers would be severely curtailed as a result. ¡°How can I get my spiritual core back?¡± asked the girl. ¡°I believe it may slowly regenerate by itself if you cultivate properly and open up all your chakras and have the spiritual energy flowing through them,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°But for handling the present matter of the pretas, the refined spiritual powers of Irawati and the spiritual artifacts I have would suffice.¡± ¡°You would show me how to refine the spiritual powers?¡± said the girl. The preceptor smiled impishly. ¡°Better yet, your eminence,¡± he returned. ¡°I would do it for you.¡± Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°You see,¡± continued the preceptor. ¡°The body of a young girl is not conducive to exercising Irawati¡¯s spiritual powers. It needs at least the shell of a young woman to properly expand its powers. And to utilise the powers to their fullest, the shell must also have the same infirmity as Irawati - that is the shell must also be blind.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said the girl. ¡°So you would be able to turn me into a blind young woman?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°But I cannot cause any kind of infirmity to your eminence¡¯s precious body.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said the girl. ¡°Then how can I use avva¡¯s powers to their full potential.¡± The preceptor thought about it for a while. ¡°One workaround I can think of,¡± he said and waved his right hand into the air. A strip of white cloth that glowed with radiance appeared and levitated in the air where he waved. ¡°This blindfold can temporarily make you blind.¡± ¡°That¡¯s convenient,¡± said the girl taking it from him and tying it around her eyes and head. Immediately, she could sense the spiritual powers of Irawati surging in her. She assumed the lotus posture and asked the preceptor to transform her shell from its present form to that of a young woman. The preceptor sat in front of the girl, closed his eyes and made a mudra with his right hand. Channelling spiritual energy into the mudra he extended it towards the girl and at once she was surrounded by a vortex of bright radiant energy completely engulfing her. The preceptor held the energy vortex for a while and then it dissipated into the air like bright speckles of dust. In front of him now saw a young woman with the white blindfold, long and lustrous black hair, clad in white robes that covered her whole body. The girl-turned-woman sensed the spiritual energy trapped inside her being released and flowing unimpeded inside her body. It felt freeing as if she could finally move and use her limbs at will. ¡°I detect lust in your gaze, old man,¡± said the young woman irritated as she sensed the preceptor¡¯s rapid heartbeat and uneven breath. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to be by a beautiful flower and not be captured by its fragrance,¡± the preceptor replied sheepishly. ¡°Hmm,¡± said the girl-turned-young-woman. ¡°This will create unnecessary inconveniences.¡± She channelled her spiritual powers by making a mudra and a bright halo ring appeared on top of her and slowly went all through her body, transforming it into a male skin. ¡°Would definitely suit your purpose better, your eminence,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°But do remember that the rays of the full moon can penetrate these illusions and your real self as a young woman becomes apparent. The moon''s rays may even cause chakra imbalance. And if you were to remove the blindfold for some reason when your spiritual powers have not reconciled properly you may even revert to your original self of the young girl.¡± ¡°I will take note of this,¡± said the young woman. ¡°The white robes,¡± continued the preceptor, ¡°will help you absorb nearby spiritual powers.¡± He waved his hand into the air and conjured a compass, it was made of a lustrous metal and had gemstones embedded in each of the four directions. ¡°The is the Luminous Diksuchi,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°It¡¯s an ancient artifact that can help you detect all kinds of energies in your vicinity. The gemstones will glow differently depending on the energy. Purple is for spiritual energy, golden is for cosmic energy, red is for demonic energy and it turns black if it cannot detect the source of the energy. You can sense all of this through your mind¡¯s eye.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± said the young man, the compass flew to him and hovered in front of him, he raised his hand to it and tried to get a feel of it without touching it. ¡°It also opens up a map of Bhu-loka,¡± said the preceptor. The young man gestured to it and the compass projected a map into the air above it. ¡°This is useful,¡± commented the young man. He could see the map through his mind¡¯s eyes as the artifact was made with spiritual energy. ¡°You can see the red energy in this nearby village,¡± said the preceptor showing a spot on the map. ¡°Your first task is to investigate and capture any rogue elements in that area.¡± The young man nodded. ¡°The ley lines can be of particular use,¡± said the preceptor pointing to the lines on the map. ¡°They are conduits of energy, you can replenish and amplify your spiritual energy if you cultivate near those ley lines.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± said the young man, he waved at the compass. The map vanished and the compass disappeared into her. The preceptor waved his hand again and this time an urn carved with intricate patterns hovered in the air. ¡°This is the Pretabandana,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°You can capture the rogue pretas in this and they will not be able to escape or cause havoc as long as your spiritual energy seals the urn.¡± ¡°Would they escape if my spiritual energy is tampered with?¡± asked the young man. ¡°Naturally,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°Not that useful,¡± commented the young man. ¡°It is what it is, your eminence,¡± shrugged the preceptor. ¡°I can only provide what I have access to.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± said the young man. ¡°Since you do not remember your name,¡± continued the preceptor, ¡°Please grant me the privilege of naming you, your eminence.¡± The young man nodded to give his consent. It didn¡¯t really matter to him what he was named. ¡°You shall be, Svetavastra on this Bhu-loka, your eminence, the one clad in white.¡± ¡°Very original,¡± remarked the young man dryly. The preceptor gleefully smiled to himself for his creative sense of naming. ¡°I notice that I¡¯m tasked with fighting rakshasas too but I have not received any weapons. The heavenly emperor doesn¡¯t seem to be keen on me having weapons, does he?¡± reasoned Svetavastra. ¡°I dare not comment on what the heavenly emperor wishes,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°But I shall have an answer for you the next time we meet.¡± Chapter 15: Svetavastra, the One Clad in White
Svetavastra walked on the empty road towards the village on the map that lit up in red due to the demonic energy. It seemed like an anomaly. Rakshasas possessed demonic energy but they were also quite restless. They would not be confined to a single place for long. The locus of red demonic energy on the map seemed fairly stable. Some of the more powerful pretas were stationary, tied to a certain place and could possess demonic energy. Was it these pretas that haunted the village? But those kinds of pretas were rare. Thus, Svetavastra was assessing the probabilities of the demonic energy anomaly when he stopped and pressed his ears to the ground. A bullock cart, I see, he thought. I might as well hitch a ride. Soon, a bullock cart with two men came into Svetavastra¡¯s line of sight. He narrowed his eyes. A preta? He thought. Why does he feel familiar? He extended his hand to ask for a ride as the bullock cart came near. ¡°Could you give me a ride, merchants?¡± Said Svetavastra. ¡°I¡¯m heading in the same direction.¡± The preta noticed the young man and became instantly interested in him. ¡°What a resplendent young man!¡± It thought out aloud. Svetavastra mentally groaned. Do the pretas also find me attractive? ¡°He seems like a cultivator,¡± One of them said to the other. ¡°He can help us get rid of the preta.¡± ¡°Yes, I am, observant of you,¡± said Svetavastra with a smile. ¡°And I do see a preta hovering near you two.¡± One of the merchants face paled as if blood had drained from it. "No way," he muttered weakly. ¡°See!¡± said the other merchant who had guessed the identity of Svetavastra. ¡°I was being set up by a preta! I wasn¡¯t hallucinating!¡± ¡°It¡¯s our good fortune to meet you, young cultivator!¡± He said. ¡°Can you help us with the preta in exchange for the ride? ¡°Of course,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the matter.¡± Svetavastra went towards the back of the cart, hopped on and gestured to the merchants to continue the ride. ¡°You can really see me?¡± said the preta floating in front of Svetavastra waving his make-believe arms into the air. ¡°Yes,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Wow,¡± said the preta. ¡°You are the second one I know who can do that, technically third if you count the old woman but she is blind.¡± ¡°The first one is No-god God,¡± said the preta reminiscing. ¡°I really miss her. She wouldn¡¯t talk much, but I felt good in her presence. She has a calming force.¡± ¡°She¡¯s also kind of stupid,¡± continued the preta. ¡°She used her entire spiritual powers to seal a portal to the Patala-loka. She ended up with a prince who brought her to the blind old woman, who in turn made her forget everything by transferring her own spiritual powers to No-god God. She forgot about me! She couldn¡¯t see me or hear me anymore.¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°And then the old woman and the girl headed to the preceptor?¡± finished Svetavastra. ¡°Resplendent young man!¡± said the preta, its voice raising with excitement and make-believe eyes teary and full of admiration. ¡°Are you a clairvoyant too?!¡± ¡°No,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Ohh,¡± said the preta. ¡°But wait ¡ª how did you know No-god God was a girl? I didn¡¯t mention it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s easy,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I am her.¡± For the first time, the preta felt speechless. ¡°You are No-god God?¡± Said the preta. ¡°The preceptor named me Svetavastra,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I do not have any specific preference but why do you call me No-god God?¡± The preta had a number of questions and Svetavastra was interested in knowing more about her past. They continued to question each other for a while until each of them was fully caught up on the other. ¡°No-god God is back!¡± choked the preta with emotion. ¡°What a wonderful day!¡± Svetavastra sighed and shook his head. What an interesting preta! He thought. ¡°Preta,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I¡¯m heading towards a village that has unusual demonic energy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not as afraid of rakshasas as the first time we met, No-god God,¡± said the preta putting up a brave front. ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I suspect there might be some rouge pretas. If I use the pretabandana, you may be captured into it as well. I cannot control what kind of pretas go into it.¡± ¡°Ohh!¡± said the preta realising what could happen. ¡°Oh no! Oh no! I don¡¯t want to be stuck with random rouge pretas!¡± And it started to wail. ¡°There there,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I can temporarily trap you in a bracer around my arm.¡± ¡°No-god God!¡± cried the preta. ¡°My saviour!¡± Svetavastra closed his eyes, made a mudra with his right hand and passed it across his left arm to the elbow. A radiant light shone across the arm and turned into a leather bracer. He flicked his right hand and transferred the preta to the bracer. ¡°Ooooo,¡± said the preta in the bracer exploring its temporary home. ¡°I like it!¡± ¡°No-god God,¡± continued the preta. ¡°You have become more human since the last time. You talk more freely and care for others more openly.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra. It could be due to the chakra imbalance, he thought to himself. They travelled for a few hours without incident. Soon, it would be dusk. The sun had just set and faint orange light filled the air. The bullock cart screeched to a halt. The village ahead of them was razed to the ground. There was nothing there. Only ashes. Svetavastra got down and came forward to examine. He sensed a surge of demonic energy, the luminous Diksuchi he had, kept flashing red in the direction in front of him. That deceitful preceptor! Svetavastra thought. The white robes not only absorbed energy from the surroundings, they literally attracted demonic energy, the pretas swarmed towards him like raging bees.
Aryaman had a fitful sleep, his eyes moved rapidly from side to side, and he kept murmuring, ¡°No, no, NO!¡± At various levels of intonation. Sanjaya who kept vigil by his side looked at him with concern. Sanjaya felt guilty for not being able to stop the prince from leaving him. The royal physician had bandaged the prince¡¯s hand and gave him some medication and advised ample rest. The king had ordered Sanjaya to stand by Aryaman¡¯s side till he woke him. Aryaman opened his eyes after a while and slowly adjusted himself to the light in the room. ¡°Sanjaya,¡± he said weakly, getting up. ¡°Your Highness,¡± said Sanjaya and he got up to help the prince sit up straight, plopping cushions behind the prince¡¯s back. ¡°We won, Your Highness!¡± Sanjaya said with pride. ¡°All thanks to you!¡± ¡°What happened to the Kapala troops?¡± Aryaman asked. ¡°Taken into our custody and jailed in the dungeons,¡± said Sanjaya. ¡°What about the Kapala chief?¡± said Aryaman. ¡°Hmm,¡± said Sanjaya. ¡°I personally checked all the dead bodies of the Kapala Army. The chief may have escaped.¡± ¡°He did escape,¡± said the prince. ¡°I saw it. I couldn¡¯t stop him.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t beat yourself up, Your Highness,¡± said Sanjaya. ¡°What you were able to achieve on such short notice and with a limited number of soldiers is extraordinary! It¡¯s spectacular! And say, what can a chief do with his army? Most of it is dead and the rest are imprisoned.¡± ¡°He shouldn¡¯t be underestimated,¡± said the prince. ¡°Anyways, did you retrieve my sword as well?¡± ¡°What sword?¡± asked Sanjaya puzzled. Chapter 16: Pretabandana, the Ghost-Capture Urn Svetavastra closed his eyes and made a mudra with his right with two fingers pointing up. A spiritual barrier formed around him stopping the pretas from getting to him. He turned to the merchants. ¡°Stay in the bullock cart,¡± he said and made a charm into the air that turned into a bright circle around the bullock cart forming a protective barrier. The merchants confused but obedient followed Svetavastra¡¯s directives. They could sense an eerie cold feeling in the air that sent shivers down their spine. ¡°It could be the pretas!¡± said one merchant to the other. They watched from the confines of the bullock cart as Svetavastra held up a barrier against the invisible pretas. ¡°They have such strong demonic energy,¡± commented Svetavastra as he held the spiritual barrier against the pretas, visible to him, they had a red aura emanating from their grotesque floating bodies and deranged eyes. They made unholy cries as they attacked the barrier with their sharp claws. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen pretas like this,¡± said the preta in the bracer. ¡°So many deranged ones in a single place is unheard of.¡± Svetavastra puckered his brows as he tried to assess the situation. He would have to open the barrier to operate the pretabandana. Some of the pretas in the meantime headed to the bullock cart drawn by the scent of the humans. They kept attacking the barrier with force. The merchants would hear the clanks against the barriers. They held their breaths, carrying their hearts in their hands. Then, they saw them. The grotesque creatures, red energy surrounding their bodies, bodies that looked like that of a worm with wiggling ends, clawed hands protruding, large tongues dancing in the air in between vicious fangs and eyes filled with the same red deranged demonic energy that surrounded them. The merchants'' shrieks of fear echoed through the air. Svetavastra removed his barrier and jumped high into the air at a safe distance away from the bullock cart and the merchants. The grotesque creatures from the bullock and the ones that were previously surrounding his barrier rushed toward him. ¡°The humans can see them now!¡± said the preta from the bracer. ¡°These are not pretas, they are pisachas!¡± Svetavastra puckered his brows as he was warding off the grotesque creatures with his spiritual energy. He tried to spread his spiritual energy outward as a net to capture before he opened the pretabandana. Ghost forms were categorised into bhootas, pretas, and pisachas. Bhootas were harmless ghosts, pretas made mischief but again were harmless to an extent but pisachas were deadly, they possessed demonic energy and fed on human flesh. They were also visible to humans and instilled dread and nightmares into humans on sight. ¡°They are not true pisachas,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°They are pretas who have been turned into pisachas.¡± ¡°Is that possible?¡± asked the preta. ¡°You see the demonic energy?¡± said Svetavastra, ¡°It¡¯s not coming from them, it¡¯s surrounding them and making them deranged.¡± The preta in the bracer realised it upon observing the pisachas properly. By now the spiritual net was cast around all the pisachas and Svetavastra brought out the pretabandana and thrust it into the air above him. A soft light emerged from it and the carvings it had on the outside came alive. It acted like a vacuum and started to engulf the pisachas into it. Svetavastra, still floating in the air, channeled his spiritual energy into the urn to power the pretabandana. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Outside of the spiritual net, a mysterious dark energy from nearby ley lines made its way through the spiritual net and pulled out some of the pisachas into the ley lines, making them disappear. Svetavastra shot spiritual energy towards the compromised part of the spiritual net with one hand while maintaining the stream of spiritual energy towards the urn. Soon, the rest of the pisachas were captured into the urn and everything ended as quickly as it had begun. Svetavastra sealed the urn and waved for it to vanish into him. He opened the map from the Luminous Diksuchi and studied the ley lines surrounding the area. The ley line manipulation was not recorded in the map. Trouble, he thought to himself. I need to investigate this further. He flew down to the bullock cart. ¡°Cultivator!¡± cried the merchants coming out of the bullock cart. ¡°A thousand thanks to you! You saved our lives! We are ever in your debt!¡± Svetavastra waved his hand to calm them down. ¡°You better head back from where you came,¡± he said. ¡°Stay away from unknown routes and places for a while.¡± The merchants nodded frantically. Svetavastra made a charm into the air with his spiritual energy and made it imprint on to the bullock cart. ¡°This will make it invisible to demonic energy,¡± he told the merchants. ¡°You can safely return home.¡± ¡°A thousand thank yous!¡± said the merchants with tears in their eyes. ¡°How may we call you, cultivator?¡± asked one of the merchants before leaving. ¡°Svetavastra,¡± said Svetavastra finding the use of having a name. ¡°A thousand thanks for saving our lives, cultivator Svetavastra,¡± said the merchants again. ¡°Your good deeds will not be forgotten.¡± And indeed they were not. Once the merchants reached Arang, they spread the news of what had happened to them and how Svetavastra, the blind cultivator clad in white had saved them to everyone they knew who in turn told it to everyone they knew. By the next day, the entire city of Arang knew of Svetavastra''s great deed in great graphic detail.
General Pushya knelt on one knee, head bent in front of the king. The courtroom was empty. It was only the two of them. ¡°I take full responsibility for the Kapala Army incident,¡± said the general. The king did not speak for several moments, he quietly looked at the general. ¡°As you should,¡± said the king finally. ¡°If the prince did not attack them, we would have been captured. The mighty city of Arang captured by a bandit army!¡± General Pushya winced at the words. ¡°If you had been in my place, wouldn¡¯t you find the timing of this suspicious?¡± said the king. ¡°The mighty general of a great kingdom conveniently away when the capital city is under attack.¡± The general dare not lift his head. ¡°We could have died - me and the prince,¡± said the king, ¡°creating a perfect vacuum of political power for you to assume the throne.¡± ¡°How do I prove my loyalty to you?¡± said the general still kneeling. ¡°Make a Blood Oath to the prince,¡± said the king. General Pushya''s eyes widened with shock. He went still for a moment. Blood Oaths were binding for life and irrevocable. They were much worse than death. Going against a blood oath would curse the betrayer¡¯s bloodline into the same act of betrayal against them for all eternity. ¡°As you wish,¡± he said making eye contact with the king, to show his resolve.
¡°Himmat,¡± said Aryaman, his bandaged hand patting the horse gently as he rode it towards the Northern Mines. ¡°You are a noisy horse! You have to admit that!¡± Himmat neighed in response. ¡°Exactly!¡± said Aryaman. ¡°You can¡¯t keep your horsy mouth shut, the whole plan would have been ruined if I had taken you!¡± Himmat said something in response. ¡°I do trust you,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°You have to trust me as well!¡± Himmat made rebuffing noises. ¡°I got you so many new friends!¡± said Aryaman. ¡°Don¡¯t you like the new horses?¡± Himmat made noises that expressed displeasure. ¡°They are aloof?¡± said Aryaman. ¡°Of course, they¡¯ll be aloof, their riders are imprisoned. What do you expect?¡± And they continued to bicker thus as they headed towards the Northern Mines to retrieve Aryaman¡¯s sword.
Somewhere in the palace, Sanjaya screamed in anguish upon finding Aryaman missing. "The prince will be the death of me!" he muttered to himself. Chapter 17: A Beautiful God Sits by the Lotus Pond
Capturing rogue pretas took its toll on Svetavastra, he was drained - he hardly had any energy left in his body and he depleted his spiritual powers trying to fight the dark energy while powering the pretabandana. Svetavastra struggled to stand, he found some wood lying nearby and waved at it. It transformed into a staff and he held onto it for support. ¡°By all means,¡± said the preta in the bracer. ¡°Let¡¯s exhaust your powers so thoroughly it takes forever to recover! The last time you did this, you fell unconscious in the middle of nowhere. And it¡¯s happening again!¡± Svetavastra ignored the nagging preta. He waved his hand into the air and the Luminous Diksuchi appeared floating in the air in front of him. It had a faint red glow in one of the directions. He waved at it and the map projected into the air above the compass. Svetavastra studied the ley lines and looked for a nearby spot where he could rest and recharge his spiritual powers. He found a ley line in a couple of kilometres and a stronger one after about 3 yojanas (around 36km). After walking for about half an hour he found the ley line, found a hidden spot behind a giant rock where he would not be detected easily and sat down to meditate.
The Swarga-Loka had beautiful gardens and ponds spread across vast lands - lush green meadows, fields of flowers, waterfalls, and golden birds - it was a sight to behold. Lord Vaiswa sat by himself at a gazebo by the lotus pond in a lesser-known garden. He gently grazed the surface of the cold pond water, his eyes pensive. From afar, apsaras watched him, some behind trees, some behind bushes, and some behind other gazebos, secretly admiring this sight - a beautiful god sitting by himself in a beautiful place. They kept collectively sighing from time to time soaking in his beauty. This was all they would get, none of them dared to approach the god any further. Lady Sachi walked towards the gazebo where Lord Vaiswa was, he was unbothered and oblivious to the commotion he was creating. This person only recently came out of his meditative state and he has turned the female population of the Swarga-loka upside down. If this keeps continuing, the apsaras will forget their duties and keep daydreaming in broad day light. ¡°Lord Vaiswa,¡± said Lady Sachi as she reached the gazebo. ¡°Do you enjoy setting these thirst traps for those poor apsaras?¡± Lord Vaiswa looked up from the pond and at Lady Sachi and smiled lazily. ¡°I am merely existing,¡± he replied. Lady Sachi shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how I can keep them away from you,¡± she said. ¡°They even found out about this place!¡± Lord Vaiswa disinterested in the matter went back to looking at the pond. ¡°Anyways, forget about them. Look at you!¡± said Lady Sachi. ¡°You look like a love-lorn teenage girl.¡± Lord Vaiswa in a better mood would have remarked something flippantly but today he was silent. Lady Sachi looked at him with concern. ¡°Do you regret taking Lord Purandhara¡¯s side?¡± she asked after a while. ¡°I would do it again if I had to,¡± he replied. ¡°Life is not always binary choices, sweet boy,¡± said Lady Sachi. ¡°You don¡¯t have to abandon someone to stand behind someone else.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Lord Vaiswa stayed silent. ¡°The greater good involves the good of all,¡± continued Lady Sachi. ¡°You have to save the world for everyone, but you also have to save the world for somebody. That is what makes it worthwhile.¡± ¡°That¡¯s something for mortals, Lady Sachi,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. ¡°Not us. We do not have such luxuries as gods.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you be a mortal for a while then?¡± Lady Sachi said with a mischievous smile. Lord Vaiswa looked at her with widened eyes and considered a possibility he dared not consider till then.
The Luminous Diksuchi flashed red. Svetavastra looked at the ley line running past the foothill of Northern Mines. He made a mudra with his right hand and channelled some energy into the ley line, now it became visible, a faint line running endlessly from North to South by the foothill, its energy glimmered in the diffused light of the evening. It had taken him the entire day to reach here. He walked slowly by the length of the ley line searching for something. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked the preta. ¡°I think the rogue pretas that escaped yesterday are trapped in this ley line,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°It has more energy compared to the other ley lines, I¡¯m looking for the spot where I can channel some energy to open it.¡± ¡°Ohh, I see,¡± said the preta. ¡°Wait - why are you opening them?! You don¡¯t have enough power to face those rogue pretas!¡± ¡°Have faith,¡± said Svetavastra and stopped. He found the spot he was looking for. He made the mudra again with his right hand and channelled spiritual energy into the spot to open it. Soon, it leaked demonic energy and the rogue pretas quickly came out and swarmed into the sky in circles. Himmat who was nearby at the time neighed into the air in alarm, with wide, darting eyes, he spun on his heels, kicking up dust into the air as he bolted and ran behind a tree to hide.
At this time, Aryaman was inside the Northern Mines searching for his lost sword and deep in thoughts regarding how the Kapala chief outwitted and escaped him. The fire balls, Aryaman thought as he walked past the bodies of the fallen soldiers some of them half burnt by the fire that raged in the mines a few days earlier. They may have ben created through magic. I don¡¯t see any materials to fuel the fire. He recalled the last moments in the mines before he lost consciousness that day - the images kept flashing before him, these images had been replaying in his mind while he was resting in the palace - the fire, the Kapala chief thrusting his whip-sword at him, and the fire ball in his hand¡­did he generate that fireball by himself? Aryaman vaguely remembered the last thing he saw before he collapsed, the Kapala chief clutching his chest and some dark energy swirling around him as he escaped from the mines. Who is this Kapala Chief? Aryaman thought. He is very dangerous. Was he hurt? Is that why he ran away even though he created so much havoc? Aryaman walked towards the upper reaches in the mines with these thoughts.
The rogue pretas swarmed over the Northern Mines in circles, demonic energy overflowing from them and then they burst into the air like fireworks and each of the spark found a corpse to possess. As the darkness of the night filled the day, the undead slowly began to rise, a movement of a hand here, the toes moving slightly of a corpse somewhere. The corpses rose from the ground, eyes filled with darkness. They congregated and marched towards the Svetavastra. Svetavastra stood his ground, he could not use the pretabandana if the pretas had possessed human bodies. He needed to get them out of the corpses first. He gauged the spiritual power needed to capture the pretas once he separated them from the dead bodies and mentally groaned. He barely had enough spiritual energy to power the pretabandana. How would he deal with the undead till then? The Luminous Diksuchi glowed golden. Cosmic energy? Svetavastra thought. He closed his eyes and searched with his mind¡¯s eye for the source of the golden energy. A celestial sword? Svetavastra saw a sword fallen on the ground stuck between rubles and a boulder. Aryaman spotted the sword as he entered the crevice. ¡°There it is!¡± He smiled and moved towards it. The sword tried to dislodge itself from the crevice and as Aryaman swooped down to grab it, it rose into the air and flew past him outside, through all the hollow tunnels of the Northern Mines and out of the hill from a lookout and into the hand of Svetavastra. Svetavastra looked at the sword in his hand, it looked like an ordinary sword. He held it in front of him, closed his eyes and chanted in the celestial tongue. A vortex of cosmic energy swirled through the sword, gaining strength by strength and the sword transformed to its original state, the crest of a tiger on the now golden hilt, and radiant light surrounding its sharp blade. Svetavastra opened and narrowed his eyes with a determined look. Chapter 18: Close Encounter with the Preta Possessed Undead The sky turned into hues of purple and blue as the last rays of the sun blended into the horizon, twilight taking over the day. Svetavastra stood firm at the foothills of the Northern Mines. The Luminous Diksuchi¡¯s gemstones all turned black indicating unknown energy. Svetavastra tightened the grip on the celestial sword that glowed golden. The legion of undead corpses moved forward like an unrelenting wave of rot and decay surrounded by a dark swirling miasma. Their movements were jerky and unnatural as if channelled into motion by the miasma. A sharp pain seized Svetavastra, he staggered catching his head with one hand while balancing himself with the sword. He saw visions from his past of a similar march of the undead towards him. ¡°Have I fought these kind of undead corpses before?¡± Svetavastra asked the preta. ¡°Yes, your eminence,¡± replied the preta. ¡°The first time I met you, you obliterated a whole army of undead corpses into thin air.¡± ¡°Were the corpses possessed by pretas also at that time?¡± said Svetavastra. The preta thought for a while. ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± he said finally. ¡°They had the same dark energy as these ones but I don¡¯t know if the corpses were possessed by the pretas. There was a rakshasa too at that time, you spared the rakshasa and said something like he was a puppet.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra and flicked his hand to form a transparent barrier around to make his energy go undetected by the undead corpses. He moved forward toward the undead corpses and observed them in detail. As soon as the barrier masked Svetavastra¡¯s spiritual energy, the undead corpses instead of marching towards him felt disoriented for a bit and then started to go radially outward in all directions. Svetavastra jumped into the air and watched them for a few moments. From his point of view, the undead corpses were like black dots with circulating dark energy around them spreading their reach. What if these undead corpses are acting as carriers of the dark energy? Thought Svetavastra. The pretas are not this-worldly, so while their powers can be manipulated, the dark energy cannot be spread through them. As Svetavastra was forming this hypothesis, some of the undead corpses started channeling the demonic energy of the pretas within and started to turn grotesque similar to the rogue pretas that went after the merchants from a previous incident. Svetavastra noticed this and immediately removed his barrier and got back to the ground. Sensing Svetavastra¡¯s energy the undead corpses at once turned around and rushed towards Svetavastra in speed craving to gorge on his pure energy. Just as I thought, the pretas can use their powers through the undead corpses, thought Svetavastra. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. From a large crevice in the Northern Mines, Aryaman watched the unfolding scene of the undead attacking a blind young man clad in white. Aryaman was too stunned to move, too stunned to react in any way. It was the first time, he saw the true form of the sword he owned. It was the first time, he saw the undead corpses whose investigation he headed personally. And it was the first time, he saw spiritual power being used as bait.
In the depths of her crystal cave, Lady Visha¡¯ra sat upon her dais of translucent quartz. In the dim glow of the subterranean realm, her coiled serpentine tail shimmered blue and green. She watched the happenings near Northern Mines on Bhu-loka from a mirror-like surface near her. Who is this blind cultivator? She thought to herself, while Svetavastra wielded the daityahan asi, the sword that could slay demons at the undead corpses. As the sword plunged into the corpses one after the other, the pretas from them escaped into the air and started swarming into a whirlpool above Svetavastra¡¯s head. He figured out how I manipulated the ley lines and hid the pretas into them, Lady Visha¡¯ra thought as a worrying crease appeared on her beautiful forehead. He seems to have realised that the corpses are needed to spread the dark energy. Svetavastra at this time was in the air, with the pretabandana opened to trap the rogue pretas. ¡°Every attempt thwarted,¡± she hissed in anger, her voice echoing off the walls. For a short period, she got up and slithered back and forth the cave. ¡°¡­.A mere cultivator with questionable spiritual power¡­,¡± she kept muttering to herself, ¡°¡­¡­blind on top of that¡­but sees more than what most see with their eyes wide open¡­¡± Around her, the air pulsed with the cold energy of khaluk, the dark miasma she yearned to spread across Bhu-loka. ¡°How do I deal with you?¡± She hissed softly, her forked tongue coming out. A sliver of a smile curled her lips, her next move already taking shape in her mind. ¡°This is just the beginning, young cultivator,¡± she said to the mirror, her voice calm and clear. ¡°The next time won¡¯t be this easy.¡±
Within the shadowed confines of his chamber, King Nahusha sat motionless, his presence barely acknowledged by the vigilant guards outside. The only sound penetrating the thick stone walls was the low murmur of voices, the guards exchanging gossip to pass the time. Their conversation, usually of little interest, suddenly veered into a territory that piqued the old man''s curiosity "You heard about the cultivator Svetavastra?" one guard asked, his voice tinged with excitement. "The blind one clad in white?" replied the other, his tone laden with skepticism. ¡°Yes, yes, that one,¡± said the first guard. ¡°He saved a couple of merchants from the horde of the undead. Waved his hands and poof! The creatures turned to dust!¡± He gestured with his hands to illustrate the point. A cultivator? He thought. Would General Pushya have heard of this? The old man moved a little closer to the wall to hear them better. Guards gossip, they embellish things turning modest acts into exuberant feats of achievement. He accounted for that. Yet something about this unknown cultivator sparked a flicker of hope in him. "Poof, you say?" the skeptical guard chuckled. "Sounds more like hogwash to me.¡± ¡°Mark my words,¡± said the first guard, ¡°this cultivator is the real deal. They¡¯ll say, he even summoned a celestial sword!¡± The old man leaned back, allowing the guards'' laughter and the tale of Svetavastra''s valour to fill the room. Maybe, there is still hope, he thought to himself. Chapter 19: The Prince Finds His New Guru But Faces a Test
Svetavastra sealed the rogue pretas in the pretabandana. The undead corpsed had turned to dust once the daityahan asi pierced through them. At once, the night that was lit red by the demonic energy of the pretas fell into darkness. The celestial sword went back to its nondescript form and looked ordinary in Svetavastra¡¯s hand. ¡°Phew!¡± said the preta in the bracer. ¡°Finally, it¡¯s done!¡± Svetavastra remained quiet. He assessed his spiritual powers, they were depleted again. Good thing I¡¯m near a ley line, he thought to himself. I can start cultivating immediately. Svetavastra waved his hand and a tiny ball of spiritual energy floated near him acting as a torch in the night, lighting up a small area in Svetavastra¡¯s near surroundings. He paced around to look for a suitable spot to meditate for the rest of the night. Just as he found a spot that was conveniently hidden, he heard footsteps behind him. Aryaman approached the blind man in white with nervousness. What should I say? How should I address him? How do I convince him to take me as his disciple? Svetavastra turned to face the young man in front of him. His blindfolded face was lit golden from the orb of energy floating by his side. ¡°This is that prince!¡± said the preta in excitement. ¡°The prince who saved you when you fell unconscious in Dandakaranya. No wonder that celestial sword was found here. It belongs to him.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Svetavastra, taking in this new piece of information. From his mind¡¯s eye, he could see the faint cosmic aura surrounding the prince. A demigod? He thought. Interesting. ¡°Arya!¡± addressed the prince referring to Svetavastra in a polite and formal manner. ¡°Allow me to introduce myself - I¡¯m Aryaman, crown prince of the Dayita kingdom. The sword you hold in your hands is mine.¡± Svetavastra looked at the sword he was holding and offered it to Aryaman. The prince bowed to Svetavastra and took it from him. ¡°Why did you return it?¡± protested the preta, whose voice was only audible to Svetavastra who ignored it. ¡°Thank you for returning it,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°I have not seen its true form till now.¡± He touched the steel of his blade lightly. ¡°Your cosmic power is not enough to activate it,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Ohh!¡± said the prince. ¡°I didn¡¯t know it needed cosmic power. Does your esteemed self possess cosmic powers as well?¡± ¡°I cannot answer that at the moment,¡± said Svetavastra. Tch tch! Did I ask something I shouldn¡¯t have? Aryaman chided himself in his thoughts. ¡°May I know who you are, esteemed guest?¡± asked Aryaman politely. ¡°I¡¯m just a cultivator,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I go by Svetavastra.¡± A cultivator? Thought Aryaman. He must have immense spiritual powers then! ¡°Cultivator Svetavastra,¡± said Aryaman bending on his knee. ¡°Please help us, the people of Dayita kingdom.¡± ¡°Help the people of Dayita?¡± repeated Svetavastra. ¡°Yes,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°We have had the undead corpse situation for a while. We had to close the main gateways to the city of Arang and restrict trade severely to keep the people safe. I myself tried to investigate the situation but to no avail. Then, we had to take care of a bandit threat. I fought the bandits right here in the Northern Mines and now I see that the fallen ones have become the undead.¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°If not for your timely presence right now,¡± he continued. ¡°The undead would have spread across the Dayita kingdom. I¡¯m not sure if the threat is completely gone. Therefore, I beseech you to take me as your disciple and let me learn how to defeat these undead. That¡¯s the only way I can protect my people!¡± Aryaman folded his hand in a plea, bowed his head and waited for Svetavastra to respond. ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra. He thought, For saving me alone, I would return the favour and keep your kingdom safe. But you wish to learn how to defend it against these rouge elements. Commendable ambition for a lad of your age. ¡°You wish to be my disciple?¡± asked Svetavastra. ¡°Yes,¡± replied Aryaman with a determined tone. ¡°As you wish,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°But first, I must assess if you are a good fit to be my disciple.¡± ¡°Tell me what I need to do, esteemed cultivator,¡± said Aryaman. Svetavastra asked him to get up and showed him the place where he initially wanted to meditate. ¡°You want me to meditate?!¡± Aryaman asked puzzled. He was expecting, to slay the undead with a normal sword or capture them at the very least. But meditation?! ¡°Yes, indeed,¡± Svetavastra sat down on the ground with a huge boulder to his back. He patted the ground beside him for Aryaman to do the same. Aryaman lay his sword beside him and sat on the ground in a cross-legged position similar to Svetavastra. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about meditation,¡± blurted Aryaman. ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You don¡¯t need to know much. Keep your hands together with thumbs touching each other.¡± Aryaman did as he was told. Svetavastra waved his hand and a lotus bud with soft light emanating from it appeared in the air. He motioned it to float on top of Aryaman¡¯s joined hands. ¡°You simply have to close your eyes and focus on your breath,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°It¡¯s simple but it¡¯s not easy. If you get distracted too much, the lotus will not bloom, if you open your eyes, it will wilt. But if you can simply focus on your breathing, just focus on your breathing alone - the lotus will bloom.¡± Aryaman looked at the lotus bud floating above his hands and wondered if he could make it bloom. ¡°How long would it take, esteemed cultivator?¡± asked Aryaman. Svetavastra lips curled to the side. ¡°As long as it needs to take, young prince,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Quell all your doubts, close your eyes and focus on your breath.¡± Aryaman took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He focused on his breath, he observed the air he was breathing going in and coming out from the entrance of his nostrils. Svetavastra looked at the prince meditating as he had guided for a while, he watched as the breath of the prince slowed down to a good rhythm. Not bad, he thought. And closed his eyes to meditate himself. ¡°I guess, this is my cue to meditate as well,¡± the preta murmured and followed suit in the bracer where it was held.
Lord Purandhara moved from one end of the empty heavenly court to the other end in a loop with long strides and a fast pace. Lord Vaiswa observed it for a while and finally decided to interject the heavenly emperor¡¯s agitated perambulation. ¡°My lord,¡± Lord Vaiswa. ¡°Why don¡¯t you sit down and think calmly?¡± ¡°I am calm, Vaiswa,¡± said Lord Purandhara almost in a bark. He checked himself and finally sat down on the heavenly throne. ¡°She wants her cosmic weapons!¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯m not ready for that, Vaiswa.¡± ¡°I already promised her the cosmic weapons,¡± reminded Lord Vaiswa. ¡°Just because she lost her memories, we cannot go back on our word.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± asked Lord Purandhara seeing it as a perfectly acceptable solution. ¡°She can cultivate her spiritual powers and take care of the situation on Bhu-loka. I don¡¯t think it will be a big deal.¡± ¡°You are underestimating what¡¯s happening on Bhu-loka, my lord,¡± said Lord Vaiswa concerned. ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± said Lord Purandhara, clearly not convinced. ¡°Just the thought of her getting back her cosmic weapons is driving me insane. The kind of power she can wield with them! It¡¯s too much power for one person!¡± ¡°What if we can keep it in check?¡± said Lord Vaiswa. Lord Purandhara looked at him incredulously, his eyes clearly stating, is that even possible? ¡°I can go to Bhu-loka in my shadow form,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. ¡°My shadow can act as a failsafe if things go out of control.¡± Lord Purandhara considered the possibility. ¡°Are you sure?¡± He asked. ¡°This is for the good of all,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. Lord Purandhara got up with renewed strength, confidence replacing his anxiety. He put his hands on Lord Vaiswa¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Well thought of, Vaiswa,¡± he smiled with ease now. ¡°Well thought of!¡± Lord Vaiswa smiled gently in return and sighed internally. He could go to Bhu-loka now. Chapter 20: The Prince Unlocks the Key to Cultivation The rays of the morning sun fell gently on the meditating prince. The lotus bud still floated above his joined hands and it slowly ever so slowly started to bloom. Svetavastra who had come out of his meditation stretched his arms and legs and soaked in the morning sunshine. ¡°This feels good,¡± he smiled looking at the sun, his eyes blocked by the white blindfold. Spiritual energy surged through him from the cultivation he had done the previous night. ¡°How long must he meditate like that?¡± the preta asked curious. ¡°Till I figure out what I am to do with him,¡± replied Svetavastra. He waved his hand, and a barrier formed around the prince protecting him from any external elements. Svetavastra headed towards the cave of the Preceptor of Heavenly Conduit. Aryaman eyes darted back and forth behind his closed eyelids. As he tried to focus on his breath, thoughts flooded his mind, like untamed horses, they galloped wildly. ¡°The greatest duty of a king is to his people,¡± he remembered his father¡¯s words and his warm and wise eyes. ¡°In the happiness of the people, lies his happiness, in their well-being, lies his well-being. If a king turns into a tyrant from a servant, that kingdom does not last long, it perishes to dust like the ashes of a burnt log.¡± Focus Aryaman! He told his wayward mind, dragging its attention to his breathing. His thoughts again wandered around Arang, the capital city of the Dayita kingdom - its high city walls, the bustling marketplaces, the serene gardens¡ªeach a vivid picture and how they are now dreary and full of dread because of the undead. A sense of responsibility, to protect and serve his people, weighed heavily on his heart. Focus Aryaman! He told to his unruly mind, forcing its attention back to his breathing. Focus on the breath coming in, focus on the breath going out. No sooner had he found his breath, another thought intruded. Svetavastra. The mysterious cultivator who had appeared in times of need, offering guidance and a path forward. Aryaman''s mind churned with questions about this new mentor¡ªhis powers, his past, and the lessons he would impart. Could Svetavastra be the guru he had long sought? The one to help him harness his latent abilities? Again, the rhythm of his breath anchored him. His focus went on the inhalation of breath and then on the exhalation of his breath. But the mind, ever restless, shifted its focus to the undead, those soulless beings that threatened his kingdom. Memories of the Northern Mines, the chilling sight of corpses reanimated by dark forces, crept into his consciousness. The fear, the determination, the resolve to combat this menace¡ªall vied for his attention. The blooming lotus in his mind''s eye began to falter, but Aryaman, recalling Svetavastra''s instruction, centred himself once more on his breathing. The cycle of air, a constant amidst the chaos of his mind. General Pushya, the Kapala chief''s narrow escape, the celestial sword¡¯s true form each flashed before him, sparking a cascade of emotions¡ªanger, frustration, a thirst for awakening his cosmic powers. Images after images from his life and the people he knew danced in and out of focus, each demanding his attention, pulling him away from his cultivation. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Yet, with each intrusion, Aryaman returned to his breath. It became his refuge. With every cycle of the breath, he observed, the tumult within him subsided, the wild horses were tamed to gentleness, and a sense of calm began to permeate his being. Time lost its meaning as Aryaman persisted, his attention now deeply focused on the ebb and flow of his breath. The lotus bud atop his hands stirred and began to open, as it fed on the moments of unwavering tranquility.
Svetavastra stood in front of the cave of the preceptor. He recalled how only a short while back, he stood in front of it as a young girl accompanied by the old woman. Hope avva is doing well, he thought as he entered the cave. The air was thick with the scent of earth and the faint aroma of incense. ¡°Svetavastra!¡± the preceptor greeted Svetavastra with a wide grin. ¡°You are back!¡± Svetavastra nodded. ¡°I¡¯m here to report on the rogue pretas,¡± he said and exchanged information on what happened in the village and at the Northern Mines. ¡°Manipulation of ley lines is a serious issue!¡± commented the preceptor. ¡°This matter of rouge pretas and dark energy does not bode well for us.¡± ¡°Do convey this matter to the heavenly emperor,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°It¡¯s of utmost significance.¡± ¡°Naturally,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°You need not worry about this.¡± ¡°I have news regarding your cosmic weapons and a new task,¡± said the preceptor. Svetavastra looked at him expectantly. ¡°Regarding your cosmic weapons,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°The heavens will send a guide to you who will help you find them.¡± ¡°A guide?¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Yes,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been told.¡± A moment of silence followed as Svetavastra processed this. "Who is this guide?" Svetavastra asked. ¡°When will they come?¡± ¡°Soon?¡± offered the preceptor weakly. ¡°Do you want me to work on vague promises?¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I can only tell you what I¡¯m informed of, Svetavastra,¡± said the preceptor. ¡°I¡¯m only a conduit.¡± ¡°Be a more useful conduit,¡± insisted Svetavastra. ¡°I will try better from now,¡± cajoled the preceptor. ¡°Now, your new task is to request the King of Dayita to borrow his son. The prince is a demigod, the son of Ila of Swarga-loka and owns a celestial sword. For the time being, you can take his help in dealing with rogue elements.¡± Svetavastra looked at him interestingly. ¡°You¡¯re behind, lousy preceptor,¡± he said. ¡°I already found the prince, have used the daityahan asi, and the prince wants to be my disciple.¡± ¡°Your eminence is of course ahead of Swarga-loka,¡± said the preceptor with a smile. ¡°That¡¯s why your eminence is chosen for this. But you must follow the protocol and meet with the king about this.¡± Svetavastra sighed.
The sky draped itself in the hues of twilight, casting long shadows across the rugged landscape of the Northern Mines as Svetavastra returned. A peculiar sight awaited him. While the prince sat in deep meditation, a horse, whose coat shimmered in the fading light circled Aryaman. Its hooves softly thudded against the ground, stirring up small clouds of dust in a gentle yet persistent attempt to rouse him from his deep concentration. It nudged Aryaman gently with its nose, then more insistently, as if imploring him to awaken from his internal journey. When the gentle nudges bore no fruit, the horse resorted to a more direct approach, softly whinnying and then playfully nibbling at Aryaman''s sleeve, tugging it lightly. Aryaman, however, remained as unmoved as a statue. The horse, undeterred, tried a different tactic, stepping back a few paces before charging forward, stopping just short of Aryaman, its breath warm and heavy, brushing against his face in a gust that carried the scents of earth and wildflowers. Yet, even this did not disturb Aryaman''s meditative state. The horse, now a mixture of frustration and concern, paced restlessly around him. As Svetavastra drew near, the horse sensing him and his spiritual powers backed away in fear and respect. Svetavastra stood in front Aryaman, at his feet, he saw the lotus floating above Aryaman¡¯s hands, now in full blossom. Chapter 21: When Fate Presents the Path Forward
"You can focus and you can follow instructions," said Svetavastra to the prince who he called back from the meditative state. In the quietude of the twilight, his clear voice boomed. "You''ll do. I accept you as my disciple." Aryaman leapt with a mix of relief and joy, an unexpected warmth spreading through him at the acknowledgment of his efforts. ¡°Thank you, cultivator Svetavastra!¡± He bowed and touched Svetavastra¡¯s feet for his blessings. ¡°May I call you as my Gurudeva from now on?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Svetavastra and gave his blessings with his right palm on top of Aryaman¡¯s bent head. ¡°May you shine bright in any form of darkness.¡± ¡°Thank you, Gurudeva!¡± Aryaman¡¯s voice echoed with emotion, eyes moist with happiness. He turned to Himmat, who stood by, unsure of what was happening. Himmat neighed softly responding to Aryaman¡¯s excitement. ¡°Why have you not accepted me as your disciple?¡± the preta asked Svetavastra, its voice only audible to the blindfolded cultivator. Svetavastra shrugged. ¡°You did not ask, and you do not have enough focus,¡± he said to the preta. Aryaman remembering something, turned abruptly to Svetavastra. ¡°What would be your guru dakshina, Gurudeva?¡± The prince said. ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra, thinking it over. It was a standard practice for the disciple to pay dakshina to his guru for his tutelage. The dakshina could be anything the guru wishes it to be, it could be monetary, or even acts of service for the guru. Whatever the guru deemed fit as payment would be the dakshina. ¡°That is for a time when I consider you properly trained,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You need not worry about it for the time being.¡± ¡°As you wish, Gurudeva,¡± said Aryaman. "What should we do now?" ¡°I would like to meet the King of Dayita,¡± said Svetavastra his gaze drifting towards the direction of Arang, where the city lights began to twinkle against the blue of the night. ¡°We need his support for what comes next.¡± ¡°Of course, Gurudeva,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°We can head to Arang immediately. Would you like to ride, Himmat?¡± Svetavastra looked at the scared horse, who hid behind the prince and chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You can take Himmat, I will meet you at the city gates.¡± Aryaman nodded, got on top of Himmat, gripping the reins with ease. In a burst of energy, Himmat galloped towards the city of Arang. As Aryaman leaned forward into Himmat¡¯s swift and powerful strides and raced against the wind, the surroundings quickly turned to a blur and before they knew it, they reached the city gates. Aryaman slowed Himmat down and got down to catch a breath. Svetavastra was already there waiting there for him. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
General Pushya''s boots echoed ominously as he approached the dimly lit chamber where the old man was confined. The guards stationed outside the door snapped to attention, their spears clinking softly. With a dismissive wave of his hand, General Pushya signalled for privacy. The door creaked open, and he stepped into the gloom, his figure a shadow against the sparse light filtering in from the narrow window. The old man sat on a simple cot, his posture betraying none of the weariness his situation warranted. As General Pushya approached, the old man''s eyes, sharp and discerning, fixed upon him. There was no fear in those eyes, only a deep sense of weariness. "General Pushya," the old man greeted, his voice steady. ¡°King Nahusha,¡± said the general. ¡°When will you tell me about the mani? I¡¯m reaching the end of my patience.¡± The old man''s lips twitched into a knowing smile. "Ah, yes, the mani. But like you made the deal, you need to defeat the one who is meant to own it.¡± ¡°Who is this person?¡± asked Pushya. ¡°I hear of a blind cultivator,¡± said the old man. ¡°He seems to go by the name of Svetavastra.¡± "Svetavastra?" Pushya repeated, the name was unfamiliar to him. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard of any person with that name.¡± ¡°You should pay more attention to the gossip of your own soldiers,¡± remarked the old man. ¡°Even, I, confined within these walls, have heard of his deeds against the undead.¡± General Pushya¡¯s brows furrowed. The undead? He thought. ¡°The mani will go to this Svetavastra?¡± He asked the old man. ¡°If you can defeat him,¡± said King Nahusha. ¡°It will, of course, go to you.¡± General Pushya fell silent, thinking about the matter. "Why tell me this?" He asked, his tone wary. "Because General,¡± the old man explained, ¡°when fate presents us with a path, we need to take it,¡± Pushya considered this, the gears of strategy already turning in his mind. "Very well," he said, at last, his decision made. "I will seek out this Svetavastra. And I will have the mani." With those parting words, General Pushya turned and left the chamber, leaving the old man to himself. King Nahusha looked at the closed door for a long time. He had made a wild gamble based on uncertain rumours. How else could he test the strength of Svetavastra? How else could he know if he could entrust his mani to Svetavastra? This is the way, he thought to himself.
Aryaman had introduced Svetavastra to the king of Dayita as his new guru. Svetavastra stood in front of the king in the empty courtroom. The king sat upon his throne, his countenance a mask of regal duty shadowed by a touch of melancholy. The moonlight cast its glow into the large hall from the large windows and the openings to the balconies. ¡°This is a huge palace,¡± the preta talked more to himself as it appreciated the grandeur of the Dayita palace from inside. "Your Majesty," Svetavastra said, his voice echoing slightly in the grand room. ¡°I request a private audience.¡± The king nodded and Aryaman left the hall and waited outside with the guards. ¡°I come to you with the heaven¡¯s mandate,¡± Svetavastra said in a calm voice. ¡°I come to you to take the son of Ila with me as I investigate and fight the dark forces that have crept into Bhu-loka.¡± The king''s eyes narrowed. Ila, he thought to himself. He felt a sharp ache in his heart as the floodgates of his memories surfaced images of his time together with Ila from the past. "Svetavastra," the king replied, his voice tinged with a mix of wariness and sorrow. ¡°What if I refuse?¡± "Your son, Aryaman, bears the blood of gods,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°How can you deny the call to fulfil his duty?¡± The king paused, his thoughts a tempest of conflict and duty. The prospect of sending his only son into such peril gnawed at his soul, yet the fate of their world hung in the balance. "Aryaman is all that remains of Ila in this world," the king murmured, his voice heavy with grief. "I fear for his safety. I did not wish for him to be entangled with the affairs of Swarga-loka, he may have the blood of gods but he is also a human. Only a human like me. That¡¯s why I never wanted him to learn about his true self. That¡¯s a burden far greater for him to bear let alone being a future king of a mighty kingdom.¡± ¡°I can understand you,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°But you cannot make those choices for him. It¡¯s for him to decide the path he wants to take.¡± The king fell silent for a while. "I''m entrusting my only son to you," he said grimly breaking the silence. "Please take care of him. I ask of you not as a king but as a father.¡± "I will," Svetavastra said solemnly. Chapter 22: A Celestial God Makes Plans to be a Mortal on Earth As the night draped its velvety cloak over the opulent palace of Arang, Svetavastra was escorted to his quarters¡ªa room that seemed to encapsulate the wealth and grandeur of the entire kingdom. The lavish decor, the intricate tapestries adorning the walls, and the gentle glow of the oil lamps cast a golden hue over everything, creating an atmosphere of serene luxury. The preta in the bracer, gawked at everything with its make-believe eyes, it was taken aback by the splendour of the room, a stark contrast to the austere lifestyle it knew Svetavastra preferred. As Svetavastra settled in, preparing for a night of meditation and reflection, the preta couldn''t contain its curiosity and wondered aloud, ¡°All this for one person?¡± "This... this is unlike anything I''ve seen, No-god God,¡± it continued, ¡°and yet you are making your bed on the floor!¡± Svetavastra, who had been arranging a simple sleeping mat on the floor, looked up, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Luxury is a distraction," he said simply, his attention turning back to his preparations. "About earlier today," the preta started, a hint of hesitation in its voice. "You said I did not ask to be your disciple. That I lack focus." "Yes," Svetavastra replied, pausing in his task. "Focus is crucial for the path you seem eager to tread." The preta swirled around, creating a miniature vortex of air in the bracer. "But what if I want to learn? Even if my focus is... lacking. Can you not teach me to improve it? To be better?" Svetavastra studied the preta, his expression illusive. "The path of cultivation is hard for mortals,¡± he said. ¡°For pretas like you, it could be near impossible.¡± "I am willing to face those trials," the preta insisted, its voice carrying a determination that surprised even itself. "Teach me, No-god God. Allow me to prove that even a preta can rise above its nature, with proper guidance.¡± The room, illuminated by the soft light of the lamps, seemed to hold its breath as Svetavastra made his decision. "Very well," he said, his voice firm yet not without warmth. "If you are sincere in your wish to learn, I will guide you." The preta, its form stabilizing with a newfound determination, nodded eagerly. "Thank you, No-god God. I... I will not disappoint you." "As your first lesson," Svetavastra continued, "learn to appreciate the silence of the night. Let it teach you the value of stillness, of focus." ¡°Ahh!¡± groaned the preta. ¡°I hope this is not a ploy for No-god God to keep my mouth shut!¡± Svetavastra sat cross-legged on the floor on his mat and closed his eyes to meditate.
"Father," Aryaman greeted the king, his voice echoing slightly in the vastness of the chamber. The king studied his son, noting the subtle changes, the sparkle in his eyes, the confidence in his shoulders, Aryaman for some reason was happy. "Aryaman,¡± said the king. ¡°I take it that finding a guru has put you in good spirits.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°He¡¯s not just any guru, father,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°He¡¯s amazing! You should have seen him battle the undead corpses! The grace with which he wielded the sword!¡± Aryaman began to animate some of the moves of Svetavastra he remembered. ¡°I granted your wish,¡± the king continued. ¡°I will declare to the court that Svetavastra is your official guru and that you will accompany him to eliminate the undead menace.¡± Aryaman¡¯s eyes lit up. He came forward and hugged his father despite himself. The king though taken aback by this sudden expression of affection, patted his son on the back. ¡°I need you to listen to me now as a subject,¡± said the king. Aryaman distanced himself from the king and took a bow. ¡°Yes, Your Highness,¡± he said in a serious tone. "The General has agreed to make a Blood Oath to you," the king said. A Blood Oath? thought Aryaman. That¡¯s serious business. ¡°Why now, Your Highness?¡± asked the prince. ¡°Do you suspect the general?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± said the king. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to take any chances.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said the prince pondering it over. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you ask him to make the Oath to you, Your Highness?¡± The king smiled. ¡°As a king, my duty is to secure the future of the kingdom,¡± said the king. ¡°Not myself. You are its future, Aryaman.¡± Aryaman let the weight of those words sink into him. His initial high spirits dampened a little. His heart foreboded of future times when he would need to make difficult decisions and where his own autonomy and desires might mean nothing. Yet, a part of him wants to rebel against the chains of duty, yearning for the freedom to forge his own path. ¡°Yes, Your Highness,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°I will not forget my duty to Dayita.¡± ¡°For now, I will leave you to Svetavastra,¡± said the king. ¡°For now.¡± Aryaman felt he could breathe again. As he turned to leave, a resolve settled within him. He will make the best of what he has at the moment. When the time comes for him to make the sacrifices he is destined to make as a king, he would do them. For now, he would be a disciple, undergoing his training under a spiritual master. The chamber''s doors closed behind him, leaving the king alone with his thoughts, gazing out at the stars that watched over their kingdom. Ila, he thought to himself, are you watching over our son?
Lord Samye stood in the floating pavilion with the fish pond. The smell of incense from the marble holder permeated the air as a gentle breeze spread the incense smoke across. Lord Vaiswa appeared on the floating pavilion. "Lord Samye," Vaiswa said, ¡°It¡¯s been a while.¡± ¡°Lord Vaiswa,¡± greeted Lord Samye with a bow. ¡°Indeed, my lord. A great while. It¡¯s good to see you.¡± Lord Vaiswa smiled. They stood shoulder to shoulder as they overlooked the fish pond. ¡°The three fish are still thriving,¡± he remarked. Lord Samye nodded with a bit of pride. ¡°They are the General¡¯s wards,¡± he said. ¡°They would of course thrive.¡± ¡°Atisha does have the best of people rooting for her,¡± Lord Vaiswa commented. Lord Samye eyes dimmed as if attacked. A sense of sadness and guilt crept in. ¡°The best of us betrayed her,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s the reality.¡± ¡°That may be true of the past,¡± said Lord Vaiswa slowly. ¡°It may change in the future.¡± Lord Samye went still and looked at Lord Vaiswa. He knew instinctively that whatever Lord Vaiswa was going to mention henceforth, it would be strictly confidential between the two of them. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He asked. ¡°Atisha is on Bhu-loka,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. Lord Samye eyes immediately welled up with tears. ¡°She¡¯s alive,¡± he muttered more to himself. ¡°Thank heavens, thank heavens!¡± Lord Vaiswa patted Lord Samye on his shoulders gently as if to comfort him. ¡°She does not have her cosmic weapons,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. ¡°She¡¯s relying on her spiritual powers for the time being to fight against the dark energies of Patala-loka.¡± ¡°Dark energies of Patala Loka?¡± echoed Lord Samye, his eyes widening in shock. ¡°You heard me,¡± said Lord Vaiswa, ¡°the sealing of the barrier between Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka may not be as simple as it seems.¡± ¡°But all of the gods are here in Swarga-loka!¡± said Lord Samye imagining the horrors that could unfold. ¡°If Patala-loka wants to take over Bhu-loka, if would be as easy as plucking a flower off the ground!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate your General,¡± said Lord Vaiswa with a smile. ¡°Of course not,¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°If anyone can stop those forces, it would be General Atisha. But if only there¡¯s some way to help her¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m to return to my deep meditation,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. ¡°My shadow can descend to Bhu-loka as a mortal. I can guide the general and help her retrieve her weapons.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± said Lord Samye his eyes lighting up. ¡°And what part do I play in this?¡± ¡°I want you to guard my celestial body,¡± said Lord Vaiswa. ¡°If someone interrupts my meditation, the mortal body would be in peril.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°I will stand guard.¡± ¡°Can you stand guard even against Lord Purandhara?¡± Lord Vaiswa asked looking Lord Samye in the eye. Chapter 23: The Protector of Dayita Realm In the grand hall of the Dayita palace, banners adorned with the kingdom''s crest fluttered gently in the breeze, sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting a golden light that illuminated the assembled soldiers and courtiers. The walls, built from the finest stone quarried from the kingdom''s own mountains, bore carvings of legendary battles and mythical creatures. The air was filled with the scent of sandalwood and fresh flowers mingling with the murmur of conversation as courtiers seated in semi-circular concentric rows of seating opening up to the dais that housed the throne, exchanging news and pleasantries. Servants, discreet yet attentive, moved through the crowd, offering refreshments and ensuring the comfort of the guests. The court of Dayita was in full attendance that day. Not only did the crown prince defeat the Kapala army, the General had returned after successfully annexing five smaller kingdoms into Dayita. Ample cause for celebration. At one end of the courtroom, away from the center of attention, stood Svetavastra, the blindfolded cultivator, leaning onto the wall, hands crossed. ¡°I have never seen a court in attendance before,¡± remarked the preta in the bracer, it made its make-believe eyes huge to soak in the details of the lavish procession happening in front of its eyes. Svetavastra was meditating with his eyes closed at this time not paying attention to his surroundings. ¡°Dayita is blessed with a competent crown prince, a competent general and a competent army,¡± addressed the king to his court. On his right side was the prime minister standing in attendance, on his left was the crown prince, Aryaman. Behind them were the royal guards. ¡°Duty well performed must always be recognised and rewarded,¡± continued the king. ¡°My loyal soldiers, for safeguarding the kingdom from the bandit army of Kapalas, and for expanding the boundaries of Dayita, for your bravery, for your sacrifice, you have the eternal gratitude of your king and kingdom." One by one, the soldiers were called forward. With a solemn grace, the king bestowed upon each a medallion, its design intricate and imbued with the kingdom''s sigil¡ªa token of their valour and a symbol of their place in Dayita''s history. As the last soldier received his honour, a hushed anticipation settled over the hall. ¡°For expanding the boundaries of Dayita through blood, sweat and tears,¡± said the king, ¡°I bestow the taxes of the newly acquired regions to General Pushya as well as the fort in Nauhara.¡± General Pushya bowed before the king and stood on his knee as the king added another military insignia to his crowded shoulder. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. The king''s gaze turned to Prince Aryaman, who came forward and bowed before him. ¡°Prince Aryaman," the king addressed, ¡°You stepped up to protect Arang when it needed you the most, against the barbaric Kapala army.¡± He took the ceremonial sword from the priest. ¡°Before the gods,¡± he said as he showed the sword to the statues of the gods behind him. ¡°Before our ancestors,¡± he said as he showed it to the walls that had Dayita warriors and legends carved. ¡°Before the people of Dayita,¡± he said as he showed it to the court.¡°I bestow you the title, Protector of the Dayita Realm!¡± The sword''s blade touched Aryaman''s shoulders as the king made this declaration. ¡°I vow to uphold this title with honour, to defend our realm, and to stand as its protector, in peace and in peril," Aryaman pledged, his voice steady and resolute and bowed deeply to the king. The hall erupted in applause. ¡°Long live, Protector of the Dayita Realm!¡± The court echoed. ¡°Long live, Protector of the Dayita Realm!¡± The king raised his hand to silence the crowd. ¡°Let¡¯s us now focus on still troubling matters,¡± the king said. ¡°The undead infestation is on the rise. Reports from all over the kingdom, neighbouring kingdoms as well as first-hand report from the prince itself highlights this issue. While we have closed our cities, imposed curfews and regulated the trade, this cannot be the way we live - in constant fear and worry.¡± Prince Aryaman stood solemn beside the king and the courtiers nodded to themselves in acquiescence. ¡°Dayita cannot flourish in fear,¡± said the king. ¡°The undead infestation needs to be eliminated in its entirety if we are to have any semblance of normal life.¡± ¡°I have tasked the crown prince to take care of this matter,¡± the king continued. ¡°Svetavastra, a spiritual cultivator, is anointed as the prince¡¯s official preceptor. They will leave Arang shortly on this mission to get Dayita rid of the undead.¡± Murmurs erupted among the crowd as the name of Svetavastra was mentioned. ¡°He¡¯s the one who saved the merchants from the pretas,¡± one courtier whispered to another. ¡°They say he saved the prince in the Northern Mines,¡± said another. ¡°He can wield celestial swords,¡± some other couriered murmured to his neighbour. ¡°How can we let the crown prince leave with an unknown person?¡± said General Pushya, he alone seemed unimpressed about the blind cultivator. At the end of the hall, Svetavastra opened his eyes inside the blindfold, though he could not see what was happening, he could see the auras of the people in the court room. He located General Pushya by the voice and saw his aura to be red. Interesting, Svetavastra thought to himself. Aryaman in the meantime was preparing to counter the general when the king stopped him. ¡°What do you propose, General Pushya?¡± asked the king. ¡°I want a one-on-one duel with Svetavastra,¡± said General Pushya. ¡°I want to see how well he can train and protect the prince.¡± ¡°But¡ª ¡° the prince was motioned into silence by the king again. ¡°Svetavastra, please come forward,¡± said the king. The blind cultivator moved towards the center of the crowd in an unhurried way and stood in front of the king and beside General Pushya. General Pushya looked at the cultivator to assess him. A bling and young man, General Pushya thought. Is this a joke? ¡°Your Highness,¡± said Svetavastra. The court whispered among itself. Svetavastra had become somewhat of a legend by this point. ¡°Do you accept this duel with General Pushya?¡± asked the king looking at Svetavastra. Svetavastra smiled. ¡°Yes, Your Highness,¡± he said. Chapter 24: General Pushya Chooses the Spear The afternoon sun shone brightly on the training grounds. A leaf from a nearby Ashoka tree hovered in the air gently gliding into elegant arches around the grounds and finally fell near Svetavastra¡¯s feet who waited patiently for the duel to start. In front of him at some distance was General Pushya, who was sizing up spears, swords and other weapons from the open display of armoury present on the perimeter of the training grounds. ¡°Why is he taking so long to choose the weapon?¡± The preta in the bracer said annoyed for having to wait so long. The king of Dayita and the crown prince Aryaman watched from the podium seated in their regal chairs. The King looked stoic but was mildly annoyed on the inside. He wanted to get the Blood Oath done by General Pushya at the earliest. Prince Aryaman tried to calm himself but he was somewhat anxious. General Pushya was a renowned and veteran warrior of more than four decades of experience. According to common urban legends, he had been on the battlefield since he was a little kid. It was sheer tenacity and resolute military leadership that propelled him to the position of the commander of the army of the Dayita kingdom when he was merely 23 years of age. This was before Aryaman was even born, before his parents had even met. Since then General Pushya has been safeguarding the borders of Dayita kingdom and expanding it in all directions. This was a man who never took a single day of rest or a single day of absence from his work. He had no family, and no other interests except warfare. And so Aryaman worried about the safety of his newly found mentor. Sure, Svetavastra could use his divine sword and wield spiritual powers to subdue rogue unnatural elements - but what of mortal combat with normal weapons? He was blind on top of that and looked so young. Could he really defeat the Defender of Dayita realm? (General Pushya was given this title when Aryaman was a boy of 5 or 6 years. A powerful kingdom from the North had attacked Dayita then, General Pushya commanded the army deftly and took on an army double their size, defending Dayita on the northern border.) From a concealed spot in the armoury that was in the barracks on one side of the training grounds, the old man, King Nahusha looked at the training grounds, his eyes fixed on Svetavastra. ¡°So, this is the cultivator,¡± he said to himself. ¡°I choose the spear,¡± said General Pushya coming onto the grounds with a spear in his hand. ¡°Then, I will choose the spear too,¡± said Svetavastra with an even tone. The general gave way for Svetavastra to choose his spear but Svetavastra simply shrugged, unmoving and said, ¡°Any spear will do.¡± A soldier then picked up a spear from the rack and threw it in Svetavastra¡¯s direction who caught it and held it down. General Pushya huffed slightly at this deliberate display of nonchalance, a psychological ploy to gain dominance in his opinion. It will be over before you even blink, boy, he thought to himself. Since Svetavastra was blindfolded, this was difficult to ascertain with any modicum of certainty. The spear had numerous advantages over the sword - it could be used in close combat as well as in long-range combat, it could attack any part of the opponent¡¯s body with ease be it the head, the arms, the torso or the legs. It can thrust, slice through and beat the opponent to the ground.It was honest as it was deadly. A beautiful and formidable weapon in the right hands. It took years of dedicated practice to master the weapon. One could not fake it with the spear and thus General Pushya chose it as his weapon to gauge his opponent¡¯s response. The air around the training grounds crackled with tension as the duel began, General Pushya charged at Svetavastra with his spear like a tempest, swift offence was his favourite tactic. His arms became blurs of motion, as he thrust the spear at Svetavastra with lethal precision, Svetavastra deftly managed to swerve each time, pushing his feet into the ground to gain momentum, he jumped into the air and put some distance between them. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Svetavastra observed the red aura of General Pushya from his mind¡¯s eye. He is not a demon, yet he has this aura. It must come from some deep-seated resentment and hatred. But against whom? he wondered. General Pushya rushed towards him to attack again, this time seeming like an angry bull. His spear sliced through the air when it landed where Svetavastra was but a moment ago. He slipped through the shadows of each of the spear¡¯s thrusts at him, like he was a breeze, like he was water flowing in an amorphous form evading the metal blade with elegance and grace. Aryaman watched this, his breath held, his eyes unwillingly to blink should they miss anything. His eyes turned to awe from the initial worry of his brows. He hadn¡¯t seen such craftsmanship in defence techniques till then. The king looked at the two figures moving quickly, one attacking, one defending, in the training grounds with interest. Svetavastra came with heaven¡¯s mandate, of course, he would be competent enough to defeat General Pushya but instead of doing that, he was merely evading General Pushya¡¯s attacks. King Nahusha from his hiding place also wondered the same thing. Why was Svetavastra not attacking? ¡°Why are you not attacking him, No-god God?¡± the preta asked the blind cultivator. ¡°I want to tire him out,¡± said Svetavastra simply. So, the blind cultivator ran around the training grounds with General Pushya behind him, for a moment it looked comical but no one in the audience dared to laugh, such was the reputation of General Pushya. He is baiting me, General Pushya thought to himself. And I¡¯m falling for it! He stopped chasing Svetavastra and stood motionless for a while calculating his next move. Sweating was dripping from the sides of his face from all this action. His rapid breath and fast heartbeats belied the calm his face tried to portray. Svetavastra turned around from a distance and stood in the direction of the general. He didn¡¯t worry about General Pushya throwing the spear at him, that would be futile given his display of nimbleness. He could anticipate any and all moves of the general by the subtle shifts in air and the accompanying vibration. Should I save him? Svetavastra thought to himself. His spiritual powers could cleanse the general¡¯s spirit of extreme emotions. He had been assessing General Pushya¡¯s emotions throughout the fight to mark a baseline. Which is why tiring him was so important. When the physical body is tired, the emotions are easier to gauge. If General Pushya¡¯s ill-harboured were strong even when he was physically exhausted - he would pose a danger to someone or even everyone sooner or later. General Pushya''s eyes narrowed as he reassessed the situation, he didn¡¯t see Svetavastra¡¯s handiwork with the spear as he was expecting to. This won¡¯t do, he thought. The silence between them stretched, charged with anticipation. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, Pushya charged, not directly at Svetavastra, but towards the side, picking up a cloud of dust in his wake, his movement a blur. Svetavastra remained still, his posture relaxed yet alert. At the last moment, Pushya pivoted, launching the spear with a twist of his body, aimed not at Svetavastra, but at the ground just before him, using the spear as a diversion. As the spear struck the earth, Pushya was already in motion, drawing a secondary weapon¡ªa short sword from his belt¡ªplanning to close the distance between them while Svetavastra was distracted by the spear. But Svetavastra was not distracted. The moment the spear left Pushya''s hand, he had already sensed the change in the air. Svetavastra stepped to the side with ease, with the spear embedding into the ground where he stood just moments before. General Pushya closed the gap, his sword raised for a downward strike,Svetavastra smiled and met Pushya''s sword with his spear, deflecting the blow. For a moment, the two stood locked in a stalemate, Pushya''s sword against Svetavastra''s spear. Then, with a fluid motion, Svetavastra twisted the spear, leveraging Pushya''s force against him and throwing him off balance. Pushya stumbled, his footing lost, but he recovered quickly, retreating a few steps to regain his composure. With the general momentarily unbalanced, Svetavastra executed a swift, precise strike, not with the intention to wound, but to disarm. As General Pushya fell to his knees, his sword fell to the ground with a clank. His neck was barely an inch away from the pointed end of Svetavastra¡¯s spear. ¡°Do you concede defeat?¡± Svetavastra asked the fallen general. The old man hiding in the armoury, his lips curled into a smile. I found the saviour, he thought. Chapter 25: Darkness Grips the Heart of the Bandit Chief Svetavastra had to make the decision quickly. It would take significant spiritual powers to properly eliminate the deep-seated ill-harboured emotions General Pushya possessed. Svetavastra would have to look into the general¡¯s past with his mindsight and decipher when those emotions took root in the general¡¯s heart. He would then have to cleanse the general¡¯s heart - this took the most spiritual power. Svetavastra was not the one to hesitate normally in such situations but his spiritual powers were limited and the daily cultivation was nowhere enough to compensate for the loss should he proceed. I can¡¯t leave him like this either, he thought. Maybe I can put some spiritual power into him and insulate those emotions from acting up for the time being. When I have more power I can properly help him. General Pushya was stunned. Time seemed to have stilled for him the moment Svetavastra had put the spear-head against his neck. He was outwitted at his own game when all the variables were chosen by him to work in his favour. The only wrong assumption he made was that Svetavastra was a common cultivator. That proved to be a costly mistake. This was not a common cultivator, which common cultivator could have outsmarted and defeated him in only one move? This person standing tall in front of him with a calm look on his face - this was a seasoned warrior - someone who knew the ins and outs of warfare extremely well. General Pushya wondered how many years of experience this person needed to have made the move Svetavastra had just pulled off with such ease. General Pushya with his 4 decades of military experience was nowhere near this person¡¯s abilities. Are you even a mortal? The general thought. Did I fight with a God in disguise? It was probable. If gods were involved in the affairs of humans then something must have gone wrong terribly somewhere. General Pushya hung his head. On the bright side, Pushya, he reasoned with himself. You may have fought with a God. That¡¯s a blessing in itself, at least I know what the handiwork of an elite warrior looks like. Most fortunate to learn it firsthand. ¡°I accept,¡± General Pushya conceded his defeat with grace. For a moment, silence engulfed the training grounds - no one particularly knew how they were supposed to react - the acclaimed general getting defeated so easily on the one hand made the kingdom look weak, but on the other hand, it made Svetavastra an undisputed guru of Prince Aryaman - no one would dare to assume otherwise with this display of his fighting skills. The King of Dayita was the first to make the move, he came forward on the dais and clapped his hands and smiled. ¡°This is wonderfully humbling!¡± He said in a jovial tone. He preserved his general¡¯s dignity. ¡°To compete and win against the greatest of Dayita¡¯s warriors - what a sight! We are blessed to have a cultivator as skilled as Svetavastra to guide the crown prince in these troubling times.¡± The crowd finding the way to lean, erupted into cheers. Prince Aryaman stood there wonderstruck - he had underestimated his own guru. I will have complete faith in you henceforth, Gurudeva, he thought to himself. The old man hiding in the armoury looked at the training grounds with General Pushya still kneeling and Svetavastra standing in front of the general, now throwing the spear to the ground and pulling the general gently up with his hands. The old man closed his eyes and a silver light covered him and transformed him into a silver snake and he slid through the armoury.
Somewhere somewhat away from Arang, in a forest on the border of Dayita kingdom, the Kapala chief sat against a tree, sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves and danced on the mask on his face. His right hand clutched his chest - the searing pain in his heart since he merged the Vishrava mani, the green diamond of his ancestors into his heart using his yaksha powers, only grew. It had been some days since he had escaped the Northern Mines with his subordinate Lakhan. Stolen novel; please report. But as the days passed, the pain kept increasing, sometimes in the dead of the night, he felt possessed, his eyes would turn black and he battled with voices in his head urging him to do unspeakable things, to start a rampage of bloodlust. The voices were relentless. Kill everyone who stands in your way, they whispered loudly in his head. Kill them, take what is yours. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Presently, he felt the pain getting the better of him, his right hand involuntarily gripped his whip-sword as if to lash it out. The Kapala chief surmised quickly that the target of his whip-sword was the clueless Lakhan in front of him who was preparing for the night ahead. The Kapala chief gripped his right hand with his left as if stopping it, he got up from the ground with some effort and hid behind the tree. Kill him, the voices in his head began. Kill him. ¡°Lakhan,¡± he called out, trying to maintain an even tone. ¡°Yes, chief?¡± Lakhan replied from the other side, he had been busy setting up wood into the campfire. Throughout these days, he was often sent on errands - sometimes to fetch wood, sometimes to fetch water, sometimes for a fancy fruit that grew in hidden places, unbeknownst to him, this was for his own safety. Kill him, the voices continued. Kill him. ¡°I want you to go to Arang and look into our captured troops,¡± the Kapala chief said. ¡°Yes, I wanted to check on them myself,¡± he said, standing up and dusting his hands. ¡°But you are not well. I don¡¯t want to leave you.¡± Kill him, the voices continued. Kill him. Sweat tricked from the insides of the Kapala chief¡¯s face and dripped drop by drop from the mask. His breathing was ragged. His left hand was still suppressing his right hand, and the muscles in his arms began to pop. Kill him, the voices echoed without a break. Kill him. Kill him. ¡°I can take care of myself,¡± said the chief in a firm unshaken voice, mustering all of his energy. ¡°Keep an eye on our soldiers. This is an order. Start out now. Take the horse with you.¡± Lakhan stood still for a moment. ¡°Aye, chief,¡± he said, giving the tree a salute, he got on the only horse they managed to free during the escape from the Northern Mines and set his journey towards Arang. After a few minutes, the Kapala chief finally let go of his hand and the whip-sword crackled into the tree leaving deep cuts and he collapsed to the floor and passed out. When he woke up in the night, his mask had fallen off, his eyes were pitch black and a dark miasma surrounded him swirling across his body. As he walked out of the forest with his whip-sword dragged against the ground and into the border city of Dayita, where the towering city gates were manned by a good number of soldiers, a trail of barrenness was left in his wake. Kill them. Kill them, the voices guided in his mind. Kill them. Kill them. As he reached the city gates, the soldiers there stopped him. They looked at him warily, one of them called for reinforcements while one asked for his travel documents. Neither lived to see the next moment as the whip-sword took them out in a single blow. The metal blade pierced into their necks. Soldiers from the top of the city gates quickly launched arrows at the Kapala chief, an invisible barrier covered the latter and the arrows fell to the ground. The Kapala chief razed through the soldiers who stopped him in a mechanical motion. The miasma that was swirling around him spread to the dead soldiers and they rose from the dead as the undead, their eyes pitch black and a similar dark miasma took over them and they began to attack the living. Within the next hour, the entire city that was teeming with life, was invaded by the Kapala chief and his new army of the undead, no living being be it human, animal or otherwise was spared. The entire city turned into a tomb of the undead, the corpses walked around with pitch-black eyes and the dark miasma claimed them all. The Kapala chief stood on top of the city gates and looked at the army of the undead, now standing as organised troops waiting for his orders. The darkness in his eyes and the miasma surrounding him receded, weakening the grip on him having quenched its bloodlust and spreading its matter and he regained his normal self. He looked in horror at the ghastly sight in front of him. Hundreds of undead corpses standing in line. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the eerie silence was broken only by the chilling sound of their shuffling feet. The moon cast a pallid light over them, casting long, sinister shadows that danced around the corpses. ¡°What have I done?!¡± He murmured to himself. Chapter 26: The Serpent Kings Last Request Svetavastra spread the mat on his chamber floor. Moonlight seeped into the room from the open balcony, bathing the space in a soft glow of twilight.Svetavastra sat down to meditate. ¡°Why do you keep wasting your precious spiritual energy, No-god God?¡± said the preta in the bracer. It had noticed that Svetavastra had discreetly transferred some of his spiritual powers to General Pushya after the end of their fight. ¡°They can be regenerated,¡± replied Svetavastra calmly. ¡°Won¡¯t you need to speed more time in cultivation for that?¡± asked the preta. ¡°Naturally,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°If you spend all your time cultivating, who will teach me?¡± said the preta with a grimace on its make-believe face. Svetavastra chuckled for a moment and closed his eyes under the blindfold. His spiritual powers currently were indeed limited. He had been using the spiritual powers lent by Irawati, the blind old woman. Since she was only a human and had been cultivating only for about 87 years, though impressive they were like a fledgling sapling compared to Svetavastra¡¯s original powers. His own innate spiritual powers were slowly growing within him - if he could cultivate for a few months on his own, it would be possible to increase their speed of regeneration but the undead crisis was looming around the human world like a never-ending haunting. Maybe if he trained the crown prince well, he could take a reprieve and focus on accelerating his spiritual powers. From between the gaps, a silver snake whose skin shimmered like moonlight on water, slithered slowly into the chamber and coiled itself in front of the cultivator. ¡°Serpent!¡± shouted the preta from the bracer. ¡°No-god God, there¡¯s a giant serpent in front of you!¡± Svetavastra was not alarmed. He did not sense any danger. He faced the silver snake that shimmered in the moonlight, its eyes gleaming with intelligence and sensed its aura. ¡°Greetings, Your Divinity,¡± spoke the snake bowing and then raising its head to meet the level of Svetavastra¡¯s blindfolded eyes. ¡°Presenting self, Nahusha, King of the Southern Serpents to Your Divinity.¡± ¡°Greetings, King Nahusha,¡± said Svetavastra with a smile. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I met a God on Bhu-loka,¡± it said. ¡°I¡¯m only a cultivator at the moment,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°No matter,¡± said the serpent king. ¡°You are the only one who can help me, Your Divinity.¡± Svetavastra waited for the serpent king to continue. ¡°I will briefly tell you my story,¡± said the serpent. ¡°After the Great War between the Swarga-loka and the Great Serpent Dragon of Patala-loka, we of the Naga Clan were persecuted throughout the human world because of our association with the Great Serpent Dragon. We fled to the underworld and lived there for many centuries. However, during the last few centuries, a dark miasma started to spread through the subterranean realms, it plagued our people and drove many insane. I even lost my daughter to it.¡± The serpent king paused for a moment, his eyes welling up with tears as he recounted the tragic past of his clan. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°To save the people, I curtailed their naga powers and turned the into humans and we have been living peacefully in the forest land of Ashesha, south of Dayita since then,¡± he continued. ¡°A few months back, General Pushya of Dayita started his campaign to capture the southern kingdoms bordering Dayita. He got to know about the Nagamani, the famed Naga crown jewel and captured me for it.¡± A resplendent pearl red in colour floated above the serpent king¡¯s head. ¡°The Nagamani holds immense power,¡± said King Nahusha. ¡°It can amplify spiritual powers, heal fatal injuries, grant dominion over the serpents and act as the key to the gates between Bhu-loka and Patala-loka.¡± ¡°Of course, General Pushya, being a human cannot access these powers, only a true naga can realise the nagamani¡¯s full potential,¡± said the serpent. ¡°But the constitution of the possesser affects the Nagamani - it can amplify their emotions and increase their natural powers. I cannot let it fall into the hands of someone as power-hungry as the general.¡± ¡°Which is why, this humble serpent king requests Your Divinity to take the Nagamani,¡± said the serpent. The red glowing pearl moved and floated in Svetavastra¡¯s hands. It immediately became translucent. King Nahusha smiled as if seeing evidence of his good judgment. ¡°My powers have weakened over the years as I sustained the transformation of our clan to human form,¡± continued the serpent with some effort, the loss of the crown jewel weakened it significantly. ¡°I only had enough power for one last transformation to my original form, if I perished without finding someone who is worthy of the Nagamani, all my efforts would be in vain. The Nagamani would be left unprotected and open to plunder to whoever found my body.¡± ¡°When I saw you fight with General Pushya, I thanked my good fortunes, I knew you were the one.¡± ¡°Why me?¡± asked Svetavastra finally. ¡°In my long life, I have met many people,¡± said the serpent king. ¡°I met kings, demon lords, and even Gods. None of them could completely get rid of their desires. Myself included. I¡¯m not worthy of this Nagamani, even though it¡¯s generated from me.¡± ¡°Once a desire takes root, and if the mind is weak, the Nagamani can turn even the simplest of desires into eternal greed and drive the possessor insane. That is why the red pearl is always clouded. Except for you, you have no greed, you have no desires of your own and thus it has turned translucent.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra pondering it over as he sensed the red translucent pearl floating in his hand. He could feel its immense power. He felt the weight of its responsibility on his shoulders, which slightly drooped. ¡°I thank you for your trust in me,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s entirely earned but I will try my best to safeguard it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s my honour, Your Divinity,¡± said the serpent king. ¡°Hmm¡­there¡¯s a caveat, the Nagamani¡¯s power can be harnessed the most during a full moon but they can drain your spiritual powers since you are not a Naga.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± Svetavastra nodded his head, he waved his hand and the red pearl disappeared into his self. ¡°I entrust you this responsibility as well as the lives of the nagas in Ashesha,¡± said King Nahusha. ¡°Ever grateful to Your Divinity. I request Your Divinity to relieve me of this life of endless suffering.¡± ¡°As you wish,¡± said Svetavastra in a gentle tone. He made a mudra with his right hand and generated a radiant mandala, which scanned the serpent king from top to bottom - as it did so, the silver serpent turned to silver dust and disappeared into the air. Svetavastra sighed. He felt the serpent king¡¯s torment as he relieved him of his attachment to this world. May you rest in eternal peace, Svetavastra thought. He got up and walked to the balcony to get some air. Somehow the room felt stuffy as he took on a new responsibility he hadn¡¯t wanted. This has been the case for a while, as he recounted the tasks given to him by the Preceptor of Heavenly Conduit. Svetavastra wondered if it¡¯d become a pattern he couldn¡¯t avoid. ¡°Maybe I should start saying no,¡± he said to himself. ¡°No to what, No-god God,¡± asked the preta in the bracer. ¡°Just a simple no,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°The Nagamani is a great addition to your arsenal,¡± said the preta excited. ¡°You are in luck, No-god God!¡± ¡°No,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°No?¡± repeated the preta confused. ¡°No,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Why not¡ª The preta wanted to ask more but shut itself down noticing Svetavastra¡¯s movement. He summoned the Luminous Diksuchi, the radiant compass was floating in front of him pulsating with urgency and the gem on the East dial had turned black. Svetavastra opened the map and studied the area affected by this unknown energy with his mind¡¯s eye - it was a border city on the eastern edge of Dayita. Chapter 27: The Undead Simulation Orb The night cloaked Prince Aryaman''s bed chamber in a peaceful quietude, broken only by the gentle rustle of the silk curtains at the balcony, dancing to the soft whispers of the night breeze. Seated at the edge of his ornately carved balcony, Aryaman''s silhouette melded with the silver moonlight that bathed the room, casting an ethereal glow on his thoughtful face. His legs, folded beneath him, supported his lean form as he leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on the balcony''s marble rail, hands clasped together as he kept replaying the events of the day. His mind was restless and excited, filled with anticipation for all he would be learning under his skilled guru. The excitement of his thoughts flickered in his eyes as he kept thinking about how deftly Svetavastra had defeated the war veteran General Pushya.That was so cool! He thought to himself. The cool night air brushed against his skin, carrying the subtle fragrance of night-blooming jasmine from the gardens below, but Aryaman barely noticed it.Occasionally, he would rise slightly, his body mimicking the motions of the Svetavastra from the day¡¯s fight, he was a silent shadow against the backdrop of his room, before settling back into his introspective stance. Svetavastra was standing in his balcony at this time, and he observed the crown prince¡¯s motions with his mind¡¯s eye. Prince Aryaman¡¯s chambers were located in an adjacent tower and well above in height compared to Svetavastra¡¯s own room. Svetavastra¡¯s lips curled into a soft smile and he leapt into the air to reach where the crown prince was. ¡°Gurudeva!¡± Aryaman said in surprise, getting up to bow to him. Svetavastra stood before the prince with his hands crossed behind his back. ¡°Were you practicing my moves from today?¡± Svetavastra asked gently. ¡°Yes, Gurudeva!¡± said the prince, his eyes and body lighting up with excitement he couldn¡¯t hold in. ¡°I¡¯m eager to learn and there¡¯s so much to learn! I can¡¯t wait to get started.¡± For Svetavastra, in his mind¡¯s eye, the energy from the prince resembled that of an excited puppy that wanted to play all day long. ¡°I need to leave on an urgent mission,¡± Svetavastra said in a calm tone. Aryaman went still for a moment. His excitement quickly drained away. ¡°And I¡¯m not to be joining you?¡± he asked his voice losing its earlier energy. Svetavastra cleared his throat. The pup would need some cajoling and toys to play with while he was away. ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± Svetavastra said. ¡°You are a prince, you cannot leave as you wish. Protocols must be followed. And the king wants to keep your demi-god identity under wraps.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± said the prince dejected, his shoulders drooping. ¡°Even if we ignore your stature as a prince,¡± continued the cultivator. ¡°You are not trained enough to accompany me. I do not have the luxury to worry about your safety while I encounter hordes of the rogue undead.¡± ¡°Then how would I learn?¡± asked the prince. Svetavastra felt in his mind the pleading puppy eyes from the prince. Svetavastra brought his right hand in front of his face and extracted something from his mind, wisps of white energy coalesced into a white glowing orb that floated in the palm of his hand. ¡°This is the Undead Simulation Orb,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I¡¯ve extracted my memory from the incident at the Northern Mines.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Prince Aryaman leaned in to observe the orb, his eyes wide with wonder and interest. ¡°You can access it in two ways,¡± continued Svetavastra. ¡°If you intend to learn how I warded the undead with the daityahan asi, you can simply think about it and the orb will take you to the replay of that memory. If you wish to practice, it can take you to a simulation, where you can fight with the undead with your sword.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± said the prince amazed and excited in equal parts. ¡°Is my sword called daityahan asi?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the name of the sword,¡± clarified the cultivator. ¡°It simply indicates the category of the sword in the cosmic arsenal - that being demon-slaying. You can give it a name, as you wish, and once you invoke it with the divine tongue, it will come to you.¡± ¡°I see!¡± said the prince. Svetavastra gestured to the prince to extend his hand and the orb floated to the prince¡¯s hand where it changed its colour from white to a golden hue. ¡°It recognised your cosmic aura and now it has become yours,¡± said Svetavastra. Aryaman¡¯s face lit up with a smile as he looked at the orb floating in his hands. ¡°To access it,¡± continued Svetavastra. ¡°You need to first have your emotions in control. Only if they are balanced, can you unseal the orb - any extremity in your emotion, be it too much joy, too much frustration or too much sadness, the orb would seal itself. Any strong emotion will impair your judgement and without proper judgment, you cannot fight any enemy to your favour. Therefore you are automatically disqualified from the simulation practice without first having your emotions under control.¡± ¡°How do I have my emotions under control?¡± asked the prince concerned with the prequalification. ¡°You must of course practice cultivation,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°That¡¯s a given. Follow the same instructions I gave you for the meditation exercise earlier. Do it every day for a couple of hours, it will build your spiritual energy and help you regulate your emotions. Then, you can access the orb.¡± ¡°I will Gurudeva!¡± said the prince with a determined look. ¡°Train well,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I shall see you in a fortnight.¡± The cultivator then leapt into the air and disappeared into the night sky.
Svetavastra sat and rode on a cloud that became his vehicle temporarily thanks to the power of the Nagamani. The moon shone brightly and the land sprawled beneath him stretched out like a patchwork quilt of shadows and moonlight. He brought out his compass and waved at it to get the map out. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you take the daityahan asi with you, No-god God?¡± asked the preta in the bracer. ¡°Why do I need it?¡± asked Svetavastra. The preta became silent. Of course, the god would not deprive the original master of his sword. He had even instructed the prince how to summon and use it and even created a training simulation for him. ¡°Would you create a training simulation for me too, No-god God?¡± asked the preta expectantly. ¡°You watch it live by being with me,¡± said the cultivator. ¡°Of course! Of course!¡± said the preta satisfied. ¡°I have the front-row seat after all.¡± Svetavastra looked at the map from his mind¡¯s eye and observed the swirling dark energy above the border city. He traced his fingers around the area trying to get a sense of the spread. The preta in the bracer was trying its best to look at the map but found it difficult from its position in the bracer. ¡°I also want to look at the map, No-god God,¡± said the preta. The cultivator waved at the bracer and the preta was out, it stretched its translucent make-believe arms and fluttered from side to side of the cloud and finally settled on the crook of Svetavastra¡¯s arm and looked at the map. ¡°The dark energy is covering the entire city,¡± remarked Svetavastra. ¡°That¡¯s unusual. And the diksuchi picked up the energy from a far distance. Moreover, the dark energy is not spreading outwards, it looks stable and contained.¡± ¡°Is that good or bad, No-god God?¡± asked the preta unable to deduce what that meant. ¡°It means the undead in that area are not rogue like the ones we encountered in the village and the Northern Mines,¡± explained the cultivator. ¡°Rogue undead be it pretas or the undead corpses would seek out sources of energy be it spiritual or human. If they are seeking humans, why haven¡¯t they spread outwards to other areas? And there are no major ley lines around the border city. So why are they still contained in that area?¡± ¡°Why No-god God?¡± asked the preta curiously. ¡°Somebody made them to,¡± said Svetavastra his brows furrowed. ¡°Someone can control them.¡± ¡°And that is¡ª?¡± ¡°Not good,¡± said Svetavastra. It meant that this somebody was a powerful entity and must not be taken lightly. He assessed his spiritual powers and decided to bolster them before heading to the border city. So he navigated the cloud to a nearby ley line, which was near a flowing stream in a forest. He sat under a tree by the stream and closed his eyes under the blindfold to cultivate. A spiritual barrier formed around him and the preta making them invisible to mortal eyes. Chapter 28: The Bandit Chief Goes Berserk A rider on a horse galloped swiftly through the forest, moonlight flickered through the moving branches above, briefly illuminating the rider''s mask with two lines on the forehead. Leaning close to the horse''s neck, he dodged trees and leapt over fallen logs. Their shadow flitted across the ground, merging with the darkness of the forest as they hurried towards their destination. The horse slowed down as it reached a clearing with a campfire that was lit out. The rider got down and examined the place and its surroundings for any clues. At the foot of a tree, he found a discarded mask with a sun engraved on the forehead. Lakhan grimaced behind his mask. In the seven years he had known the Kapala Chief, he had never, not once, had he seen the chief without his mask. His intuition proved right, something was amiss. His gut kept telling him to return to the Kapala Chief and he couldn¡¯t ignore it, so for the first time, he decided to disobey the orders of his chief and act on his own volition. After looking around for some time, he found the markings of the whip-sword being dragged across the ground and he followed it to the border city. At this time, the Kapala Chief was at the heart of the border city, standing atop the highest tower of the city and looking at the army of the newly raised undead he had created unwillingly surrounding him in all directions. They clawed at the stone walls through disjointed movements and their hollow groans breached the silent night. The Yaksha mani does not create undead, he thought as he looked at the grotesque figures staring with vacuous lifeless expressions on their faces. The dark miasma that engulfed the mani and this miasma emanating from the undead is the same. It¡¯s corrupted the mani and caused so much destruction through me. He looked at his hand that held the whip sword, stained with blood. The pain in his chest had lessened. As long as the mani is inside of me, he thought, the dark miasma would also keep circulating in me. Lakhan slowly entered the unmanned desolate city, his senses on high alert as he took in the horror before his eyes, the city walls smeared with blood while the silence of the abandoned streets screamed of a recent carnage. His horse balked, its hooves scraping against the cobblestone in nervous protest. Suddenly, with a piercing neigh, the horse bucked, throwing Lakhan to the ground before bolting into the forest. As Lakhan scrambled to his feet, the sound of his horse''s distress echoed off the empty buildings. It wasn''t long before the undead, attracted by the noise the undead, and sensing life among them, turned as one, their turn was mechanical, unified, and began to converge on him. Lakhan''s footsteps echoed against the stone as he darted through alleyways. Each breath he drew was a sharp, desperate gasp, his chest heaving as he propelled himself forward with every ounce of strength left in his body. The narrow alleyways twisted and turned before him and behind him, the undead emerged from the shadows, their numbers growing with every corner he turned. Lakhan risked a glance over his shoulder, his heart sinking as he saw them closing in. Around him, the undead stirred, and hundreds of hollow eyes and outstretched hands crept towards him. The space around him shrank rapidly as they converged from every direction. Trapped and panting, Lakhan found his back against a cold stone wall with nowhere left to run. High above, Kapala Chief, upon hearing the distant cry of the horse, leapt skyward. From his aerial view, he spotted Lakhan, his sword out, the glint visible through the moonlight warding off the encroaching swarm of the undead. He made fireballs, flickering with voracious flames, and with a sweep of his arms, he hurled them towards the undead. The fireballs arced through the night, trailing embers, before raining down upon the horde clearing a path of ash and scorched earth. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Descending from his leap, Kapala Chief landed on his feet beside Lakhan, the heat from his powers warping the air around them. The undead, momentarily halted by the inferno, regrouped and started to advance on them. Together, with their backs facing each other, Kapala Chief and Lakhan faced the oncoming army of the undead. ¡°You disobeyed orders!¡± He barked at Lakhan while throwing balls of fire at the undead approaching them. ¡°Sorry chief,¡± Lakhan said with a feeble voice. ¡°I thought you were in danger.¡± ¡°I can take care of myself!¡± shouted the chief as he threw more fireballs at the horde surrounding them. ¡°I will distract these undead, and escape when I create the path for you.¡± ¡°But¡ª ¡°No buts,¡± said the Kapala chief. ¡°Just follow the orders, dammit!¡± Kapala Chief''s focus sharpened, his eyes gleaming with intensity as he summoned his powers. With a movement that was both fluid and explosive, he unleashed a torrent of flame toward the nearest alleyway. The fire roared to life with hungry energy, devouring the encroaching undead, and turning them into charred husks that crumbled to ash on the cobblestones. Lakhan seized the moment and sprinted into the fiery corridor, the heat searing, the air crackling with the energy of the unleashed inferno. Avoiding the falling embers and the remains of the undead still smouldering in his path, he ran outwards. The heat wrapped around him like a cloak, but he pushed through. He almost reached the entrance of the city gates when a smaller group of undead surrounded him. With a steady grip, he brandished his sword as the first of the undead reached him and it swung with precision, a swift arc cutting through the air, severing an undead head from its rotting body. Another lunged, and he stepped aside, letting momentum carry his blade through its chest. He fought like a man possessed, taking down one undead after another. But for every undead creature that fell, two more took its place, with the fallen body parts rising on their own. He kicked, slashed, and dodged, his breaths coming in sharp gasps, the stench of decay filling his nostrils. But the undead were relentless, their bodies impervious to fatigue, their numbers a tide that sought to engulf him. Lakhan¡¯s movements began to slow, his arms heavy with exhaustion, his sword not as swift. They pressed in, hands grasping, mouths agape, their eyes void of life. A desperate war cry tore from Lakhan''s throat as he swung wildly, but the undead swarmed him, their cold hands dragging him down. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the cobblestones. The last thing he saw was the night sky, obscured by the writhing mass of bodies that consumed him, as darkness claimed him entirely. From the flames, as he was fighting a larger horde of the undead the Kapala chief saw Lakhan being outnumbered and engulfed by them. The Kapala Chief was too far to quickly do anything. Panic and a wave of desperation washed through him and he let out a primal roar that reverberated in the air and a visible shockwave erupting outward in fierce, expanding rings. The undead horde caught in the path of this unstoppable force were swept off their feet, the shockwave hurling them back, their limbs flailed, bodies tumbled, and for a fleeting moment, the advance of the undead was halted. As the roar echoed into the darkness, the green diamond in his heart came to life even though it was surrounded by the dark miasma.His body became a conduit for a raw, elemental force that surged forth - a pillar of green light shot into the air and streams of green fire spiralled into life, swirling around him and they surged outward in a wave of searing heat and blinding light. The undead flesh blistered and blackened, bones charred into fragile, ashen remnants that crumbled to dust under the force of the green inferno. The Kapala Chief stood frozen in the middle of a green maelstrom created by his power, his breathing heavy, the remnants of flames flickering in his eyes The shockwave spread far and wide, knocking down walls, trees, and everything on his path, the after waves of it spread till where Svetavastra was meditating. He awoke from his cultivation with a start. He got up and with his mind¡¯s eye saw the pillar of green light flashing into the night sky at a distance. The green fire that pierced the night sky had cast a surreal otherworldly hue to the night. For a moment, Svetavastra remained motionless. His heart raced, a mix of alarm and dismay flooding his senses. With a deep, steadying breath, Svetavastra leapt into the air towards the border city. Chapter 29: The Green Diamond of the Yakshas Svetavastra soared through the night sky, the wind caressing sharply against his skin as he hastened towards the border city. A flash of memory hit him; he had left the preta behind. His brows puckered into a mild frown. With a fluid motion, he extended his palm forward, channelling his spiritual energy. From the glowing warmth of his hand, a luminescent butterfly emerged, its wings shimmering with purple light. ¡°Protect the preta,¡± he told the translucent purple butterfly. The butterfly nodded as if understanding its purpose and then fluttered away, navigating through the breezy air, back to the tree by the stream. ¡°No-god God has abandoned me,¡± the preta sobbed lounging in the shadow of the tree. It perked up as the butterfly approached it from the sky. ¡°Preta,¡± said the purple butterfly and the preta could hear it in Svetavastra¡¯s voice. ¡°I have to take care of some things. Till I return, meditate in the barrier of this butterfly. It will keep you safe.¡± The preta looked at the glowing butterfly with make-believe wide watery eyes, its spirits lifted up when it realised it had not been abandoned. It transformed itself into a make-believe cross-legged position. ¡°I will meditate, No-god God,¡± it said enthusiastically. ¡°You just wait and watch, how good I shall meditate.¡± The butterfly dissipated and formed a translucent barrier around the preta.
Far above in the skies, Svetavastra felt the spiritual butterfly¡¯s transformation into a barrier and a smile touched his lips as he felt mildly relieved. He had not realised his attachment to the preta till then. He turned his mind¡¯s gaze forward and observed the green pillar of light that shot through the sky. Green flames from the pillar swirled in a vortex around it and hungrily devoured the undead in the vicinity, their forms disintegrating into ash upon contact. Svetavastra now hovered above the border city, his robes fluttering with the rising wind. He broadened his field of mind¡¯s vision to examine the city as a whole - he saw the dark auras from the undead spread across the city and near the exit gates of the city he spotted a mortal aura covered under a horde of the undead, fighting his way out even when he was significantly outnumbered. A human? Svetavastra thought. Making a snap decision, Svetavastra descended, the air parting smoothly around him as he approached the city gates. He extended his hand and spiritual energy started to coalesce around his palm. The undead, sensing the pure spiritual energy turned their hollow gazes and bodies towards the blind cultivator and started to approach him. With a swift motion, he unleashed a wave of purple spiritual energy towards the undead, the energy cut through the undead like a scythe, turning them to dust. Lakhan, finally freed from the unrelenting hold of the undead looked at the spectacle, his heart pounding in his chest. He could only stare in awe at the blindfolded person in front of him, weaving spiritual energy through the air and extinguishing the undead. He felt light, the weariness that had weighed his limbs seemed to lift as he looked at what he thought was a deity descending from the Swarga-loka to save him. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Svetavastra approached the mortal who had defiantly fought and held against the undead. The human bowed to him in gratitude and reverence. ¡°Lakhan thanks you for saving his life, Your Divinity,¡± said the human in a humble tone. ¡°I¡¯m only a cultivator,¡± replied Svetavastra. ¡°Can you tell me what happened here?¡± ¡°I am not sure,¡± said Lakhan. ¡°I followed my chief here and these creatures came out of nowhere. My chief is still stuck in the city with these creatures - can you please save him too?¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra thinking about this new information. ¡°What is that?¡± Lakhan pointed to the green pillar of light in wonder. ¡°I felt a shockwave earlier. Not sure if the green light and that were related. I hope the chief is alright.¡± ¡°Let me take care of that,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Wait here.¡± He summoned another spiritual butterfly that formed into a barrier around Lakhan and leapt into the sky towards the green pillar of light. Beneath Svetavastra, large vines originating from the green light, vigorous and unrestrained, surged from the ground, enveloping walls and buildings. They twisted and turned, claiming the city as their own. As he drew closer, Svetavastra''s mind¡¯s eye picked up the unusual flickering of green energy as a dark miasma surrounding the green pillar of light tried to encroach it. The green fire that was tainted by the dark miasma turned into a dark fire. The undead that came in contact with this dark fire perished to dust but returned as rouge pretas swirling in the sky. Svetavastra stilled for a moment to watch as the green fire and dark energy fought against one another to gain an upper hand. He looked at the mortal at the heart of the pillar of the green light. The green fire and vines are the powers of Yaksha-mani, Svetavastra thought to himself. Given how powerful the pillar of light is, the possessor of the mani must be a yaksha himself. His aura corrupted by the dark miasma does belong to the spirit world. The dark miasma cannot take full control of him as he is still alive. It is waiting for him to lose control of the yaksha powers that can kill his mortal body. The newly formed rouge pretas came crawling in the air to Svetavastra attracted by his pure spiritual energy. Without paying any heed to him, he offhandedly opened the Pretabandana that rose into the air to capture these pretas while maintaining his attention on the Kapala Chief. This is a tricky situation, Svetavastra mentally groaned. I would have to first subdue the yaksha powers without killing the yaksha and then purify the Yakshamani removing the dark miasma from it. Svetavastra extended his hands, palms facing the tumult of green light and dark energy below, his spiritual energy now a visible aura that encased him in a protective barrier. The shimmering barrier pulsating with his spiritual power, sliced through the green fire and dark miasma as he approached the ground. He descended and came face to face with the Kapala Chief who seemed to be suspended in agony. The chief''s eyes mirrored the torment of the energies that raged within him. The dark miasma clung to him, a parasite feeding off his intense emotions, the very emotions that set the green fire ablaze. How do I do it? Svetavastra wondered in his mind. He tried to swift through all the information he had gained till then. The chief had been in the city when it was outrun by the undead. Lakhan had come to rescue the chief but he was outnumbered by the undead. The chief unleashed his yaksha powers. Wait, Svetavastra thought, realisation hitting him like a brick of ice. The chief created the undead?! That explains why the undead incident was localised on the Diksuchi map. Did the dark miasma get the better of him then? Lakhan had not seen the green pillar of light till I saved him but he was in the city with the chief fighting the undead. Did the chief awaken his yaksha powers to save Lakhan? ¡°Let¡¯s see if this works,¡± he said to himself. He transformed himself to look like Lakhan, with black robes and a wooden mask. He pushed through the green light entering it and called out in Lakhan¡¯s voice, ¡°Chief! I¡¯m here!¡± He saw no response from the yaksha. He inched closer, holding the yaksha¡¯s face with his hands and pretended to look into the yaksha''s eyes. ¡°Chief! I¡¯m here,¡± he repeated slowly in Lakhan¡¯s voice. The yaksha in front of him blinked, a flicker of recognition passing through his eyes. Chapter 30: The Boy Who Stole Mangoes ¡°Chief! I¡¯m here,¡± Svetavastra said slowly in Lakhan¡¯s voice to the Kapala Chief in front of him. He held the chief¡¯s face with his hands as if physically trying to make the chief look at him. The Kapala Chief''s eyes flickered, the green fires in his eyes still raged relentlessly. He could see the blurred image of his comrade in front of his eyes. Svetavastra kept gently calling out to the yaksha, pretending to be his comrade. At the same time, he invoked his spiritual powers to form a barrier surrounding the Kapala Chief and the green pillar of light. He channelled some of his spiritual powers to the Pretabandana so that it could seal itself should anything happen to him. This was a precautionary measure. His spiritual powers were strong but not enough to entirely subdue the unleashed yaksha powers. He took a gamble on Kapala Chief¡¯s attachment to Lakhan to partly subdue the intensity of the green pillar of light. ¡°Come with me, Chief,¡± Svetavastra pretending to be Lakhan told the Kapala Chief, now extending his hand to him. The Kapala Chief¡¯s eyes tried to focus on the person calling out to him. Slowly, the blurred image started to get clearer. The green fire around him raged and spiralled upwards, its intensity unfaltering and unyielding. The dark miasma surrounding it, constricted the Kapala Chief¡¯s chest tightly and he held it with his hand. Don¡¯t take his hand, the voice in his head whispered to him. Don¡¯t take his hand, you are getting lured. This is not Lakhan. ¡°Come with me, Chief,¡± Svetavastra repeated gently. The Kapala Chief hesitated. His hand inched forward slowly, as he was battling the voice in his head that was imploring against it. Warmth seeped into his hand, as he held what he thought to be Lakhan¡¯s hand. He found strength from the physical contact and the voice in his head started to recede. ¡°Do you remember when we first met, chief?¡± Svetavastra as Lakhan asked the Kapala Chief. The memory unfurled slowly in the Kapala Chief''s mind, and his eyes softened. He could still vividly recall the first time he laid eyes on Lakhan¡ªan unruly orphan abandoned to the streets, brimming with raw defiance. That day was drawing to a close in the bustling streets, shadows lengthening as the sun dipped below the horizon. The Kapala Chief, cloaked in this signature black robes, moved with the shadows in the narrow alleys. A skinny teenager with ragged clothes, his breath coming in short gasps nearly collided with him. Skidding to a halt, the teenager¡¯s eyes widened in surprise and fear as he realised the cloaked figure who stood in front of him. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. A petty thief, the Kapala Chief had thought then looking at the mangos in his hand. The sudden sound of footsteps and the distant murmur of a crowd snapped the Kapala Chief to attention. Alert and poised, he sensed the approach of men¡ªperhaps soldiers or angered vendors¡ªdrawn by the commotion the boy had caused. He grasped the startled teenager firmly by the arm. The boy barely had time to register what was happening before they were soaring through the air. The leap carried them high above the heads of the bewildered crowd. They landed gracefully, almost silently, atop a nearby market building, crouched in the shadows. From their elevated vantage point, they watched as the group of men¡ªvendors and a few curious onlookers¡ªscoured the area below, their voices angered and frustrated as they searched for the elusive thief. The boy, heart still racing from the unexpected flight, glanced up at the Kapala Chief with a mix of awe and newfound respect. The Chief, his gaze fixed on the scene below, offered the boy a brief nod. As the search continued fruitlessly below, the Chief turned his attention back to the boy, the immediate danger passed. "Stealth and speed, boy,¡± he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a solid weight. ¡°Stealth and speed.¡± ¡°Thank you, Sir,¡± the boy said sheepishly and offered him a mango from the bunch he had stolen. The Kapala Chief looked at the ripe mango and asked curious, ¡°Why did you steal these mangoes?¡± If the teenager was hungry, it made more sense to steal food like roti (flat bread) than fruit. ¡°They are meant for the king,¡± the boy explained with a grin. ¡°I wanted to feel equal to the king in some way. I thought if I could eat the same mango as the king, I could be his equal for that moment.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said the Kapala Chief. ¡°But now I want to be like you,¡± said the boy. ¡°I¡¯m a wanted criminal in all the neighbouring kingdoms,¡± said the Kapala Chief calmly. ¡°Yet, you can rescue a nobody from the streets without a second thought,¡± said the boy. ¡°I want to be like you.¡± And thus Lakhan joined the bandit army under the Kapala Chief. The lure of three warm meals a day and a routine of training with skilled soldiers quickly made him adapt to the new situation. Within a few short years, he rose to become a squadron leader from a mere soldier and organised raids independently and contributed to the Kapala Army becoming a terror in many kingdoms. As the Kapala Chief was reminiscing these memories, Svetavastra had his spiritual powers slowly wrapped around the green pillar of light trying to contain the green waves of fire. The green fire, chaotic and untamed, twisted and surged against the entwining spiritual energy. The purple spiritual energy covered all the spirals of green fire, undeterred and patient, it neither rushed nor faltered. The intensity of the green fire slowly started to decline. The heat that emanated from the green fire began to slowly dissipate. The Kapala Chief¡¯s emotional upheaval was contained by the distraction of recalling his memories of Lakhan, which served as a balm for his heart, steadying it against the tumult within and around him. Svetavastra continued to pour his spiritual energy into the Kapala Chief through his hand to keep the dark miasma at bay. ¡°Who are you?¡± the Kapala Chief asked with a wary voice letting go of his hand from Svetavastra¡¯s. Chapter 31: Unlocking the Bandit Chiefs Ancestral Memories ¡°Who are you?¡± asked the Kapala Chief wariness in his voice to the person looking like Lakhan in front of him. Initially, he had thought the person in Kapala uniform and wearing the Kapala mask of the squadron leader was Lakhan due to his voice and the sense of calm and familiarity he felt when the person held his hand. Once, his emotions of rage and helplessness were in control, and the relentless voice in his head subdued, he could see clearly and he could think clearly. A mere human would have long been dissipated if they came in contact with the Yaksha fire. Yet the person with him, not only looked unscathed, he had even managed to subdue the green pillar of light. Even the vines that had spread around the city receded to only the vicinity of the green pillar. Svetavastra took this opportunity to increase the spiritual energy he sent towards the green pillar of light. He raised both of his hands, palms outwards and waves of purple energy gushed forward completely engulfing the Yaksha fire and the subdued green pillar of light. And just like that, the Yaksha fire, the vines and the green pillar of light vanished. Svetavastra transformed back to his human male skin form with white robes and the white blindfold across the eyes and behind him, darkness in the sky receded as dawn ascended, with purple and orange hues spread across. The Kapala Chief felt light as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulder. However, channelling so much power through his body left him exhausted and he collapsed to the ground surrounded by the rubble of the torn-down city. Svetavastra waved his hand and cleared the ground around the Kapala Chief. ¡°I am a cultivator,¡± Svetavastra said, sitting down beside him, ¡°known as Svetavastra.¡± A cultivator? The Kapala chief thought, his brows creased. A mere cultivator can subdue the spirit power of the Yaksha Mani? ¡°I can see you are in disbelief,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You helped me subdue it.¡± ¡°I?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°The Yaksha Mani¡¯s powers were unleashed and fuelled by your intense emotions - once those emotions were in control, my spiritual power could contain the Yaksha fire.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said the Kapala Chief looking at his hands, one with the whip and the other that held Svetavastra¡¯s hands a while back. He is a powerful cultivator, the Kapala Chief thought to himself. He looked all around him remembering Lakhan, his eyes searching the razed-down city for traces of his comrade. ¡°Lakhan is safe,¡± replied Svetavastra calmly. ¡°He is on the outskirts of the city protected by my spiritual barrier.¡± Relief flooded the Kapala Chief and he relaxed a bit - he had not realised how tense he had been till then. ¡°I want to see him,¡± the Kapala Chief said, his voice weak. ¡°Not yet,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°The Yaksha mani inside you is still corrupted. It can still cause harm.¡± The Kapala Chief grimaced recalling his loss of control and the carnage he had caused on the border city. Guilt stricken, he tried to say something but no words came out of his mouth. ¡°I know you caused the destruction of this place,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I did,¡± said the Kapala Chief. Svetavastra was silent, he waited for the Kapala Chief to offer an explanation. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°The Yaksha Mani had a dark miasma when I had uncovered the Northern Mines,¡± said the Kapala Chief. ¡°I did not pay heed to it and merged it with my heart. Ever since then, I have had the voice in my head, it does not go away and it urges me to go on a killing spree - it does not discriminate against the ones I care for or not - it keeps urging me to end it for everyone.¡± ¡°I sent Lakhan away because I could no longer keep it under control but I never imagined, that not only would it force me into a killing spree but it could make the dead rise as the undead and do its bidding.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra stroking his chin with his fingers pondering the matter. ¡°Could you control the undead?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked the Kapala Chief. ¡°When you were under the control of the dark energy, the undead,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Did they follow your orders or did they attack you?¡± The Kapala Chief fell silent trying to recollect the events of the past night. ¡°The dark energy possessing me directed the entire killing spree last night,¡± said the Kapala Chief. ¡°The undead killed the living and the dead became the undead.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Svetavastra and sighed. The chief is still alive so the dark energy could not completely take over, if it could, the destruction that it could unleash would have been terrifying. The threat still exists as long as the dark energy is corrupting this yaksha. ¡°You have an insatiable bloodlust in you,¡± said Svetavastra out of the blue looking directly at the Kapala Chief. The Kapala Chief looked at him, curiosity and caution flickering in his green eyes for being called out like that. ¡°Why do you say so?¡± He asked. ¡°I can see flashes of your past, this is not the first city you razed to the ground,¡± Svetavastra commented silently. ¡°You destroyed many places - much before you possessed the Yaksha mani.¡± The Kapala Chief felt exposed all of a sudden, with the spiritual power calming his intense emotions, momentarily he could not recollect why he had done such horrifying acts in the past. ¡°The dark energy fed on your existing bloodlust and amplified it a thousand times over. Whether it was your intention or not, whether you were under the influence of the dark energy,¡± said Svetavastra, ¡°your acts are still your responsibility,¡± ¡°I know,¡± conceded the Kapala Chief, he waited for a long moment to bring himself to say it but he said it finally. ¡°I will atone for the harm I caused unintentionally. I had every reason for the destruction I unleashed intentionally.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra, ¡°My duty is not to judge you or reform you. It is to minimise the harm you can do. I have to purify the Yaksha mani to remove the dark energy afflicting it completely.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t hear the voice in my head,¡± said the Kapala Chief. ¡°Is it not purified by you already?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not as simple as that,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I created a temporary barrier between the Yaksha Mani inside your body and you. But I still have to cleanse the mani.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± Said the Kapala Chief, ¡°how would you do that?¡± ¡°I have to find the root cause of your bloodlust and remove it,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°This could be a long drawn-out process. I suspect that the dark energy seeped into your ancestral memories through the Yaksha mani. Because of this, the source of your bloodlust may have originated through your ancestors and may merely have been amplified by the experiences you faced in your lifetime. I would have to first unlock those memories and find how deep the dark energy has seeped into and remove it from there.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said the Kapala Chief. ¡°Is that why I could not control the dark energy? Because the bloodlust I have is from my ancestors?¡± ¡°Possibly so,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I would have to look into your ancestral memories to verify it.¡± ¡°I did not know I possessed ancestral memories,¡± commented the Kapala Chief. ¡°We all do,¡± said the cultivator. ¡°Only those with good spiritual awareness can access them but they are with us - all the time.¡± ¡°How can I help you access these memories?¡± asked the Kapala Chief. ¡°You would have to cultivate with me,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°This could take some time maybe even a few days.¡± Svetavastra made the Kapala Chief be seated in a cross-legged position and asked him to close his eyes and focus on his breath. He sat in the same way facing him. ¡°Remember, you only have to focus on your breath,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Do not be swayed by intruding thoughts, return to focus on your breath each time. I will take care of the rest.¡± The Kapala Chief nodded and focused his entire attention on his breath. He noticed his incoming breath and his outing breath, again and again. His breathing slowed down as time passed and slowly, he went into a deep meditation. Svetavastra made a mudra with his hand and brought it to his forehead, his mind¡¯s eye became visible with the purple spiritual energy on the forehead. It focused a beam of purple energy toward the Kapala chief, who felt a cooling sensation when the purple energy touched his forehead. Through it, Svetavastra entered the Kapala Chief¡¯s memories. Chapter 32: The Shackles of Identity The morning sun cast a warm glow on the border city that now lay in ruins, in one night, its entire population was wiped out, first turning into the undead and then turning to dust. The structures that made the city from the high city gates, the towering mansions and the houses on the streets, all were broken down to rubble by the Yaksha powers unleashed through the Kapala Chief. In the middle of the ruined city, two men meditated, seated in cross-legged positions facing each other, the blindfolded cultivator used his spiritual powers to establish a connection with the yaksha facing him, the purple beam of spiritual power from his mind¡¯s eye connected with the latent mind¡¯s eye of the Kapala Chief. The translucent spiritual barrier around them erected by Svetavastra to protect them from external elements glistened with the rays of the sun. The Kapala Chief focused his attention on his breath, it had calmed his mind and he felt at peace. He felt the spiritual connection from Svetavastra come as a gentle touch, respectful instead of invading. He let his mind open and offered no resistance to Svetavastra. At once, the Kapala Chief felt he was being sucked into the ends of time and space, with flashes from his past all around him floating like translucent bubbles. He saw the carnage he had leashed the past night as the dark energy had consumed him. Svetavastra prolonged the memory for a while and observed the Kapala Chief¡¯s actions, as the latter¡¯s whip-sword lashed against the flesh of one mortal after another, with killing force. Svetavastra could feel the internal struggle of the Kapala Chief trying to gain control. The scene changed to the one where Kapala Chief felt intense panic and despair thinking he had lost Lakhan to the undead and how it had unleashed the latent powers of the Yaksha mani merged into his heart even though it was corrupted by the dark energy. Svetavastra examined all of it like a dispassionate observer. The Kapala Chief felt the pull again through the tunnel of time and space that housed his memories. This time, it was when he was in the forest with Lakhan. The campfire had provided warmth and heat that night and Lakhan slept beside him blissfully unaware of the Kapala Chief¡¯s inner turmoil. The Kapala Chief felt immobilised and the dark energy repeatedly voiced in his head to kill his comrade. He clutched his hand to his heart, his breathing ragged from all the infighting in his heart and his nails dung into his chest. The pain had temporarily numbed the voice. Back in the tunnel of space and time, Svetavastra found the memory of the battle of the Northern Mines. Lakhan had found the half-unconscious Kapala Chief at the entrance of one of the hollow caves. The chief had collapsed from expending his limited yaksha powers and invoking fireballs to fight the Dayita Army. The Yaksha mani was freshly merged with his heart and it left a searing pain in the chest. Svetavastra could sense the dark energy surrounding the Yaksha mani. The Kapala Chief seemed to have whispered something inaudible that made Lakhan lean closer placing his ear near the Kapala Chief¡¯s head. ¡°Get out before it¡¯s too late,¡± said the Kapala Chief weakly. ¡°No!¡± Lakhan had protested. ¡°Let me take you to safety.¡± He pulled the Kapala Chief into his arms and walked to the end of one of the large crevices that opened outwards. He placed the Kapala Chief to rest on the wall of the crevice and whistled outward. Within a few moments, his horse had galloped out of nowhere and stood below the crevice near the foothill of the Northern Mines. This was towards the back of the mines and the Dayita Army had not known of this place. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Chief,¡± said Lakhan trying to take the Kapala Chief into his arms again. At this moment, the prince of Dayita had entered the hollow cave where they were. ¡°Go and wait for me,¡± murmured the Kapala Chief in Lakhan¡¯s ears. The latter looked into the Kapala Chief¡¯s eyes as if to protest. ¡°This is an order,¡± said the Kapala Chief. Lakhan nodded and before he could do anything, the Kapala Chief had gently pushed him down. The Kapala Chief brought out his whip-sword and raised his hand to summon a fireball. Svetavastra observed the scene and realised had the Kapala Chief not been injured, Prince Aryaman would not have survived that day. Svetavastra and the Kapala Chief again went through the tunnel of time and space and this time Svetavastra stopped at the memory of a village being razed down to the ground through fire. The helpless shrieks of the villagers caught on fire filled the night air like a haunting, the Kapala Chief looked at the horror he had deliberately wrought without any emotion. A flash of a past memory seized the Kapala Chief who had been standing at the edge of the village. In the memory, he saw the villagers refusing to offer any food or water to a group of sickly destitute people. The villagers had even driven them away in fear. ¡°Vermins! You don¡¯t belong here!¡± they had shouted as some of the villagers threw stones at the destitute group. And the flash of memory was gone. The Kapala Chief found it strange but did not pursue it. Could this be an ancestral memory? Svetavastra wondered. Svetavastra and the Kapala Chief came back to the tunnel of space and time and Svetavastra sifted through his memories this way - meticulously going through them one by one until he found some traces of ancestral memories dispersed sparsely through the past memories of the Kapala Chief. Svetavastra stopped at one translucent bubble of memory. In the heart of the forest behind a hidden clearing under the night sky, a woman held the outstretched arm of a boy who looked not more than seven. A campfire illuminated their faces, a solemn look washed the face of the woman, while the boy looked at her with nervousness and anticipation. The palm of her free hand hovered over her heart and she seemed to pull out something using her spirit powers. A bone, possibly a rib came out from her chest and she used her powers to forge it into a needle. The woman felt her body convulse with pain as she directed her powers toward the bone needle. Sweat started to trickle down her forehead. ¡°Mother!¡± shouted the boy trying to break free from her grip to help her. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Toyesha,¡± the mother said. ¡°This must be done.¡± She held the bone needle and pricked it on her arm to draw out her blood. The tip now soaked in her blood, pierced through the boy¡¯s skin. He felt a sharp sting but did not flinch nor close his eyes. Instead, he fully embraced the pain as his mother made intricate lines with the needle on his arm, he looked at his mother, as her life force depleted rapidly with each stroke she made with the bone needle on her son¡¯s arm. Once it was done, she held her son¡¯s face in her hands and rubbed his cheeks gently and placed a kiss on his forehead. ¡°Toyesha,¡± said the dying woman breathing her last breath. ¡°Always remember who you are.¡± Saying so she turned to dust, leaving red embers of her remains which slowly curved upwards with the night¡¯s breeze and disappeared. You are bound by the shackles of your identity, Svetavastra thought to himself as he looked at the tattoo glow in the arm of the young Kapala Chief before the glow faded and what remained on the arm was inscrutable lines in green ink. Svetavastra experienced flashes from his past at this moment. He caught his head with his hand and tried to balance a disorienting feeling. A monk whom Svetavastra felt deeply familiar with appeared in the memory and told a young girl who seemed to be Svetavastra himself this, ¡°You will always be a god with or without your weapons. With or without your powers. With or without your vehicle. That¡¯s your destiny. Even you cannot change it.¡± Chapter 33: The Mantle of the Kapala Chief A whole day had passed while he was going through the Kapala Chief¡¯s memories. His deep meditation had unintentionally invoked some of his own memories he thought were lost. Svetavastra steadied himself from the grip of the memory that had held him paralysed for a while. In front of him, the Kapala Chief sat in meditation, unmoving, his attention focused on his breath. I am God? he thought to himself, his brows slightly creased. He tucked the memory away to process the information at a later time. Cleansing the Yaksha mani is the priority, he reminded himself. Svetavastra brought his attention to his breath to clear his mind and reentered the mind of the Kapala Chief through the spiritual connection he had made earlier. He along with the Kapala Chief entered a translucent memory bubble in the tunnel of time and space. The Kapala Chief¡¯s mother, the woman whom Svetavastra had seen in a previous memory was facing a small army of soldiers in red uniform led by a man wearing black robes on horseback. She was on her horse, her hand firmly holding the reins and Toyesha, the young Kapala Chief was secured on her back using a cloth sling. ¡°Keraku, what is the meaning of this?¡± She asked the black-robed man. Keraku curved his lips into a sinister smile. ¡°Chief,¡± he said. ¡°Surrender and plead guilty and you may live to see another day.¡± The woman looked at him for a moment in disbelief. Keraku was one of her own, her trusted squadron leader and he had betrayed her to the enemies. She felt a sharp sting in her heart. I failed as a leader, she thought to herself. ¡°The rest of the Kapala Army has already been captured,¡± continued Keraku. ¡°Why?¡± asked the woman, trying to understand where she went wrong. ¡°I¡¯m the commander of the Northern Army of Dayita,¡± said Keraku. ¡°This was all planned to rid Dayita of the Kapala Army.¡± The woman widened her eyes in shock. She had harboured a mole, she brought this on herself. Quickly regaining her composure, she assessed her options to escape. She couldn¡¯t face the soldiers head-on, her son could be harmed. She would have to backtrack into the denser parts of the forest behind her. She pulled the reins of her horse and nudged it with her legs, the horse neighed standing on its hind legs, the soldiers were caught off guard and the horse galloped into the forest. Keraku ordered the archers to shoot at her. ¡°You can shoot the child,¡± said Keraku. ¡°But I want the Kapala Chief alive.¡± The horse raced across the stretches of the forest, the woman pulled her son in front of her and hugged him close while bending down to protect him from the speed with which the horse was escaping. Keraku was still behind her and his archers couldn¡¯t aim accurately as all they could see was a blur of the brown horse that deftly dodged low-hanging tree branches and became increasingly difficult to spot as the forest became denser and denser. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Soon, the woman had reached a stream, she remembered a hidden clearing beyond it. She got down from her horse, quickly made a dummy body with the scrap twigs around her and put her cloak on it. She tied it to her horse and hit on the back to go in the opposite direction to where she was heading. Svetavastra along with the adult Toyesha came out of the memory and floated in the tunnel of time and space. So it seems, the Kapala Chief is a hereditary title, he thought, the current Kapala Chief, Toyesha, inherited in from his mother who was betrayed. She passed on the mantle and the ancestral memories through the tattoo on his arm. Svetavastra found another memory of the woman, who was leading the bandit army with a baby Toyesha strapped to her chest and raiding wealthy merchants across a ravine. In another memory bubbly, she was gently rocking him in her arms and singing him a lullaby in the Yaksha tongue that spoke of the yakshas and the Yaksha mani, she took the baby¡¯s hand and let it touch the green tattoo on her arm. In a different memory bubble, the woman was by herself in a secluded forest, she was in labour, she stood, her hands raised holding on to the branches of an Ashoka tree and gave birth to Toyesha. She is a strong woman, Svetavastra thought to himself as he went from one memory to another. But I do not sense any bloodlust in her. Svetavastra continued to sift past the memories. He saw the woman falling off a cliff after being chased by an army of soldiers. Saved by a fortuitously placed tree branch, she was found by a scholar who lived in a secluded area. Svetavastra saw the memories of the woman as she recovered while staying with the scholar, falling in love with him and then leaving him on a moonless night when she discovered she was with child. ¡°He is a good man,¡± she said to herself as she climbed up the cliff. ¡°I wish him a good life. Forgive me child for robbing you of a father but you and I do not belong with him. Let us not involve him in our tortured destiny.¡± Svetavastra found another memory bubble. This was inside a large cave, the Kapala Army had made this cave its hidden base. Inside a sequester enclosing within the cave, an old man lay on a platform. The woman, who looked younger was holding his hands while kneeling on the ground by the platform. Surrounding him were a few of their remaining relatives. This was the ruling clan of the Kapala Army and its chief unbeknownst to the army stationed outside was on his deathbed. ¡°Manavi,¡± said the old man, his frail voice strained. ¡°You must secure the bloodline of the yakshas.¡± Tears were running down the woman¡¯s cheeks. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me so soon, father,¡± she said, her voice choked with emotion. ¡°It must be done,¡± he said and raised to sit up. He put his hand to his heart sending his yaksha energy towards it and pulled out the rib that carved into a bone needle. The yaksha relatives chanted in their ancient yaksha tongue and the dim cave enclosure lit with a strange glow. As he started to tattoo on his daughter¡¯s arm, he gave her some final words of advice, ¡°We are yakshas,¡± he said, his voice weak but firm with conviction. ¡°We carry our ancestors with all their glory, all their triumphs as well as their downfall. You are our hope to set things right. Always remember who you are.¡± He finished the tattoo on her arm that glowed with the yaksha energy before settling to become green. Her father turned to embers as did her relatives, leaving her all alone, the last yaksha of a displaced clan, all by herself to lead a bandit army and to save their clan from being wiped out forever. She broke down in tears, feeling bereft and lost. After a few hours, she wiped her tears and went outside to announce herself as the new Kapala Chief, raising her tattooed arm to the sky. The Kapala soldiers at once fell to their knees, put their fisted hands to their hands and bowed their heads. ¡°Long live the Kapala Chief! Long live the Kapala Chief!¡± their voices echoed in the mountains. Chapter 34: General Pushya Prepares to Take the Blood Oath It was early morning, the sky was still dark. General Pushya had taken a headbath and clothed himself in a new pair of clothes sent by the king, a white dhoti with a gold border and a white shawl with a similar gold border to cover his upper body. He tied up his long hair into a top bun and set out barefoot to the temple situation in the palace grounds. The palace was a short distance from his manor in the city. The guards at the morning gates were still on their night duty. They quickly saluted and let the general pass through as soon as his face was visible from the light of the torches beside them. He soon reached the temple amidst a mango grove. He stopped by the water pump to wash his feet before he entered the temple. The cold water felt good running down his feet. The temple was lit with oil lamps, some hanging from the temple ceiling, some placed on the floor. A priest was waiting for him at the altar, holding an aarti plate with a small oil lamp in both his hands. General Pushya entered the temple, bowed respectfully facing the deity in the inner chamber of the temple and rang the temple bell. The sound of the bell reverberated across the surroundings. ¡°Good morning, General,¡± greeted the priest as General Pushya reached him. The priest held the aarti plate towards the general, the latter bent his head and guided the light from the lamp with both his hands towards his eyes, getting the blessing from the gods. ¡°The seclusion chamber has been readied for you, general,¡± said the priest, as he guided the general towards a hidden chamber at the back of the temple. It was a small dark chamber with no source of light except for the grill at the top of one of the chamber walls. ¡°Thank you,¡± said the general as the priest closed the chamber door leaving the general alone in the tiny chamber. General Pushya pulled open a placemat placed on the side, spread it on the ground and sat cross-legged on it. He joined his hands by letting the tips of the thumb touch one another, one set of hands sliding below the other. He relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes. This was a mandatory three-day seclusion at the temple to cleanse his mind before he could take the Blood Oath. The Blood Oath bound the Oath-Taker to a chosen individual for life, the Oath taker would live to serve this person until the day one of them perishes. It is an irreversible oath, once taken it cannot be reneged. Going against a Blood Oath would put the Oath-Taker¡¯s entire future bloodline into a never-ending cycle of betrayal till the day the bloodline perishes. The King of Dayita knew very well what he wanted when he asked General Pushya to take the oath for Prince Aryaman. The guaranteed undying loyalty of his best general to the future king would stabilise his dynasty. The general focused on his breath, he had been feeling peaceful ever since his duel with the blind cultivator, Svetavastra had ended. This had come as a surprise to him, he should be feeling anything but peaceful - to be defeated by a seemingly young man who was blind not to mention, he should have felt humiliated. He however felt a profound sense of gratitude, as if he had been taught highly advanced moves by a hard-to-obtain master. To have found King Nahusha missing from his expertly guarded confines, he should have felt dismayed but he took it well and moved on with his tasks. The key to getting his hold on the famed wish-fulfilling mani was missing, he had been searching for it relentlessly for decades and he felt okay about the loss. General Pushya mentally sighed. What was happening to him? You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Even the matter of the Blood Oath, he could not bring himself to evade it. It would bind him to the future of the Dayita kingdom till his death. The very future he had patiently sought to destroy all these years. He was 5 years old when his mother sent him to assist Dayita soldiers on the battlefield. ¡°Your life is for retribution, Pushya,¡± his mother had told him. He did not know what retribution had meant then but he nodded solemnly to his mother. He made his way to the army outposts on the border of Dayita. Dayita¡¯s borders were not secure at this point. The Dayita army led by commander Keraku fought hard to solidify Dayita¡¯s presence as a stronger power in the region. This meant constant warfare and wounded soldiers. Pushya sneaked into the outpost barracks and became an errand boy. He would carry food and medicines between barracks. The army doctors liked him because he was reliable. The soldiers liked him because they got their food on time. No one had questioned his background, they had assumed he was an orphan and took him in. So he served them from battlefield to battlefield for a number of years. When he was twelve, he asked the station master of the barracks if he wanted to join the army. The station master refused instantly. ¡°If errand boys start becoming soldiers, who will do the chores?¡± the station master had asked. Commander Keraku was passing by the barracks at that time. He stopped upon hearing the station master¡¯s words. ¡°An errand boy can of course become a soldier,¡± the commander said looking at Pushya with a smile. ¡°Provided that he proves himself capable.¡± Pushya looked into the eyes of the commander, his own eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions he was going through, this person in front of him was the sworn enemy, he was also his birth father. He nodded solemnly and returned to his chores. From then on, he silently watched the soldiers train on the grounds and would himself train in the dead of the night till dawn. He did this for two years. When he was fourteen, the army had opened a recruitment drive in a nearby town. He entered it, brisked through all the stages with ease and entered the army as a foot soldier. The foot soldier became a cavalry within a few years and went on to master swordsmanship, archery and other forms of martial weaponry. He displayed military acumen and often strategised for commander Keraku during the latter¡¯s campaigns in the North. He became a commander of the Northern armed forces when was only twenty-three. Keraku had passed away on the battlefield that year, and Pushya was unanimously chosen to lead the position based on merit and his contributions. Fate prevented patricide. His mother had sent him to Dayita to bring the kingdom to its knees. It was for the glory bestowed by this kingdom that Keraku had infiltrated the Kapala army and betrayed it, wiping them out mercilessly. Pushya¡¯s mother was a squadron leader in the Kapala army who too came under the sway of Keraku and unwittingly aided the latter. She repaid it with her life and ingrained in Pushya that his life was for vengeance. Pushya had left his mother when he was five but the vengeance in him grew steadily and strongly, akin to his rise in the Dayita army. As General Pushya meditated in the seclusion chamber at the temple, his mind dispassionately went through the events of his life. His vengeance had faltered once when had fallen in love. The Blood Oath would make him falter again. Chapter 35: Blood Oath and the Divine Right Prince Aryaman prepared for the Blood Oath ritual the same way General Pushya had prepared, by secluding himself in a different room in the temple premises. He too was tasked with cleansing his mind, he had been in meditation for three days straight. He considered this as a win-win situation, he had to train his mind to open the Preta Simulation Orb, this three-day retreat would boost his spiritual reserves. In short, Prince Aryaman happily went into meditation. As one day progressed into another, his thoughts became clearer and clearer and kept lingering on his duty as a king. Ever since he was a child, he had been taught about the dharma of a king. While dharma, predominantly covered his duty towards his kingdom, it went beyond it - a dutiful king would perform necessary duties to maintain order and promote the prosperity of the kingdom. The king guided by dharma would not only fulfill those duties but do it with compassion, seeing his happiness, in the happiness of his people, his welfare in their welfare, he lived for the people. Aryaman had mulled over this on and off for many years. When he was young he did not really understand it, as he grew up and watched his father make decisions for the benefit of the people, he slowly began to realise it. He would often go in disguise and roam throughout the kingdom to understand in person how the policies the king made at the court, affected the people in everyday life. He had met the old woman in one of his escapades and soon discovered that her humble hut by the city outskirts was a ripe center for news and gossip from all across Dayita kingdom and beyond. Naturally, it did not surprise Aryaman that the old woman also served as a hearing post for the king¡¯s spies. Sometimes, he wondered what it would be to live a life not for a grand purpose such as his, a simple life like that of a farmer in an obscure village. What would it mean to live a life as he pleased, do what he wanted, and pursue what he liked? What do I even like? He thought to himself. He did not have a definite answer for it. His only obsession was the divine sword left to him by his heavenly mother. For years he had tried to wield it without success, only to witness its glory through the cultivator Svetavastra. He had been in awe back then, and a renewed sense of purpose filled him again. Learning how to wield a divine weapon, could help him protect Dayita in these turbulent times. The king had closed the kingdom to contain the undead situation but Aryaman did not see that as a viable solution. They needed to take the offensive and rid the land of these ghastly creatures. And he felt the calling in his bones to do so. It was early morning on the fourth day. The temple cellar was lit by the torches on the wall. A golden hue spread over the dim and dark stone walls. The priest, the King, Prince Aryaman, and General Pushya gathered, the latter two had freshly bathed in the temple pond and wore new clothes provided by the king. The new clothes were no longer austere like the two-piece shawl and dhoti they wore to the seclusion rooms. These befit their station and were made with fine silks and brocades. The King stood at the center of the cellar, with the priest by his side and the prince and the general facing him. The priest carried a plate with the oil lamp and a white-stoned ring. He began chanting ancient verses from the scriptures to begin the Blood Oath ritual. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The general knelt on one knee as did the prince. The king took the ring from the plate and bestowed it to the general, who accepted it with his head bowed and both palms cupped to receive the ring. ¡°I present to you the heirloom passed down to the Dayita family through generations,¡± said the king. ¡°General Pushya, this ring will bind you to Prince Aryaman through the Blood Oath. Do you accept?¡± ¡°I accept,¡± said the general solemnly. The king turned to Prince Aryaman. ¡°Prince Aryaman, do you pledge your life for the people of Dayita and become worthy of the Blood Oath?¡±He asked the prince. ¡°I pledge my life to the people of Dayita,¡± said Aryaman with a firm voice that gently reverberated in the room. The general wore the ring on his right index finger. He presented that hand to Aryaman. The white gem gleamed from the reflection of the light from the torches. Aryaman pulled out a short sword from his sash and cut his palm with it, letting droplets of blood fall into the white gem. The gem glowed the instance the blood drops started to fall on it and it latched into the skin of the general, who tightened the fist to cope with the searing pain but did not make a noise. The glow soon subsided and the white gem turned yellow like a topaz. The priest gave a cloth to the prince to cover his bleeding palm, who wrapped it around his hand. ¡°The Blood Oath is complete,¡± said the king addressing the prince and the general. ¡°You may rise.¡± ¡°General,¡± said the king. ¡°You have given your undying loyalty to Prince Aryaman and he pledged his life for the people. This ensures that both of you are serving the same goal and selfish desires of one do not compromise the other. Both of you are but instruments for the greater good. Never forget that.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t, Your Highness,¡± said the general. ¡°Prince Aryaman,¡± said the king holding Aryaman¡¯s shoulders with both his hands. ¡°You will carry a heavy burden on your shoulders once you become the king. The general¡¯s loyalty is for the wellbeing of Dayita people attained through you, I hope your future reign carries forward the legacy we have built over the past centuries of peaceful rule.¡± ¡°I will strive for it, Your Highness,¡± said Prince Aryaman. The general now knelt on one knee before the prince and expressed his loyalty to him. ¡°I will serve you till the day I die, Your Highness,¡± said the general. ¡°I will strive to be a person worthy of being served,¡± said the prince and motioned the general to rise. ¡°I may make mistakes in this process for I am young and there is much that I do not yet know or have experienced. Do counsel me, General,if you feel like I am making wrong choices that can harm the kingdom. I don¡¯t want a blind follower. I want a collaborator who can work together with me, without fear or favour.¡± The king smiled at these words. Prince Aryaman had everything it takes to become the best king in his lineage. ¡°I will,¡± the general nodded and shook the prince¡¯s hands firmly. Chapter 36: Deep into Ancestral Memories Svetavastra and the Kapala Chief continued to meditate, sitting cross-legged in the same position for the past three days and three nights. Svetavastra filtered through all the memories of the Kapala Chief and his mother. He could not find the trace of bloodlust that got corrupted with the dark energy. He suspected that the source of the bloodlust could be deep in the ancestral memories, a few generations into the past. If he continued to sift through the memories as meticulously as he was doing currently, his spiritual energy would be severely depleted by the time he actually encountered the dark energy. Svetavastra¡¯s spiritual projection in the tunnel of time and space stopped and floated in the space. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± the Kapala Chief asked, halting beside him. Svetavastra took a moment to gather his thoughts. ¡°The source of the bloodlust is buried deeper than I initially thought,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I don¡¯t think the pace with which we are screening the memories is fast enough to dig through generations of past memories.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± said the Kapala Chief, ¡°what¡¯s the alternate option you are considering?¡± ¡°I can fly through this tunnel much faster on my own,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°If you can continue to meditate steadily. I can focus on quickly moving through the ancestral memories to find the dark energy.¡± Moving quickly through the tunnel of time and space was risky, if Svetavastra flew with such speed in the tunnel, it could create ruptures, and these ruptures held the realm of illusions. Any energy could manipulate the rupture and thereby the realm of illusions. One wrong move and he could get trapped in one of those ruptures. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you start doing that in the first place?¡± asked the Kapala Chief curious. ¡°I was waiting for your breath-work to be stable enough during the meditation,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°If your meditation isn¡¯t stable, the tunnel of time and space will collapse. I took you along with me so that you can experience it yourself.¡± ¡°Is it stable enough?¡± asked the Kapala chief slightly worried. ¡°Yes,¡± said Svetavastra with a smile. ¡°You are doing a great job. Keep focusing on your breath. All your attention on your breath.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Okay,¡± said the Kapala Chief. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, his spiritual projection vanished from the tunnel of time and space. What Svetavastra didn¡¯t bother letting the Kapala Chief know was that being in Svetavastra¡¯s company and in contact with his spiritual energy which was pure, as pure as it gets, naturally would stabilise the Kapala Chief¡¯s own breath-work and meditation. Svetavastra leapt into the air and bolted forward, whizzing into the tunnel of time and space, his spiritual energy leaving a trail behind. He sped through the lifetime memories of Kanaka, the Kapala Chief before Manavi who was also her father. Kanaka had inherited the Kapala Chief through the tattoo on his arm from his father, Maruta, the then Kapala Chief. Maruta had left Kanaka with a bandit army of nearly a hundred committed men and women. Honed in strategy and combat from a young age by his father, Kanaka had established the Kapala Army as a force to be reckoned with. He orchestrated raids on corrupt merchants, intercepting their trade caravans and redistributing their wealth to impoverished villages, securing their loyalty. Slowly the number of troops under him began to rise. The Kapala Army made their base in the obscure caves in the forest of the far West of the Dayita kingdom during this time. He consolidated the code of conduct for his bandits, where they were bound by oath never to harm those weaker than them. Tales of the Kapala Army raids spread across neighbouring kingdoms and it became famous for its vigilante justice. The Kapala Chief would raise his tattoo showing arm into the sky and over his head and his army would kneel in front of out of respect, fear and loyalty, ready to go on raids and minor battles to keep the Kapala Army going. His most audacious act was securing a negotiation of a pact between two minor warring kingdoms adjacent to Dayita, alleviating his status from a bandit to a power broker. This rise did not go unnoticed in Dayita whose king issued several missions to capture and limit the Kapala Army. Many of them were unsuccessful due to the Kapala Army¡¯s guerrilla tactics and deep understanding of forests and hidden places as well as the loyalty of villages who never betrayed their trust. Kanaka died of old age, leaving a flourishing bandit army to his capable daughter Manavi. He lived all his life as a bandit chief, but he always remembered that he was but a pawn in the greater scheme of things and that his true identity was that of a yaksha. To boost the bloodline through his daughter, he along with all of his remaining yaksha relatives passed on their curtailed ancestral powers to Manavi through the tattoo on her arm. Svetavastra kept flying in the tunnel of time and space. ¡°No bloodlust,¡± he said to himself confirming what he already had suspected. He sped past Maruta¡¯s life memories, the Kapala Chief before Kanaka. Maruta through his resourcefulness and commitment had raised the Kapala Army into one of loyal soldiers. His memories did not contain the blood lust as well. The tunnel of time of space, with its translucent envelope started to form ruptures here and there. A sliver of energy would gleam from one of these ruptures. As Svetavastra was flying past them, one of the ruptures had a flash of dark energy and Svetavastra¡¯s spiritual energy got pulled into the rupture with a sudden force. Svetavastra was trapped in the realm of illusions now. Chapter 37: The Realm of Illusions Svetavastra got pulled into the rupture in the tunnel of time and space. It happened all too quickly for him to react. Before long, he felt himself on the ground, his mind¡¯s eye couldn¡¯t see anything. He sat down to meditate but as soon as he began to focus on his breath, he blacked out and fell conscious. He recovered his senses after a while and repeated it to find himself falling unconscious again. He got up and walked around - nothing, he could see nothing, his spiritual powers were blocked completely. He didn¡¯t want to risk opening his eyes - his spiritual powers were still buttressed by the spiritual powers transferred by the old blind woman, Irawati. It would take him at least a good number of months with continuous cultivation to raise his inherent spiritual powers. Until then, he would have to make do with the situation of being physically blind. The force that pulled me into the rupture must be the dark energy, Svetavastra thought to himself. It had manipulated and corrupted the rupture. Either my spiritual powers are blocked or I am made to believe they are blocked. Interesting. A cold wind blew past him, his robes fluttered in the wind and his body shivered with the cold draft. He walked against the resistance of the wind and felt a gentle incline of the ground. Was he climbing something? Was the wind blowing down from somewhere? He suspected both. A cold place, possibly the foothill of a mountain, the terrain seems dry, and there¡¯s no snow or moisture, Svetavastra thought to himself. It¡¯s a barren land. He concentrated on straining his ears to find more sensory information about his surroundings. Apart from the roar of the draft wind, there wasn¡¯t anything else. He continued to walk upward and soon found himself on a steeper slope, his hands felt solid rock formations as he continued to ascend. He searched the ground for any fallen sticks to aid his hiking. His hands stopped as he touched something not quite a rock but still solid. Bones? He thought and searched around with his hands. A human skull? It feels so real. If they perished climbing the mountain, then am I supposed to reach the summit? Or is it a warning to turn back? For some time, all he found was more broken skeletons and after a while a wooden staff. He picked up the staff, stood for a brief moment making a snap decision about where to head. Using the staff as a walking aid, he continued his upward journey. Fear, he thought to himself. The dark energy is trying to instill fear in me. As he climbed upward, the air started to become thinner and he had difficulty breathing for the initial few minutes. He stopped for a while to acclimatised to the new height and continued to climb. Maybe it was the physical exertion that was taking its toll or maybe it was a simple miscalculation on his part, his feet slipped against the rock he was trying to climb and he rolled downwards bruising his hands and legs, his robes tore in some places, exposing his pale skin to the harsh wind. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. He got himself up and began his ascent again, braving the cold winds, navigating deftly through treacherous slips and falling boulders, all his senses highly alert and focused on the immediate task of getting him safely to the next step and the next step after that. He couldn¡¯t gauge for how long he had been walking. It could have been 7 hours or 17 hours or even 7 days. Time stopped making sense and he felt himself slowly getting caught up in the desolateness of the place and the futility of his walking. The dark energy is trying to wear my willpower, he thought. It has cunningly blocked my access to spiritual powers and is goading me into experiencing physical hardships to weaken my mind. If the body is weak in such cases, the mind would follow suit. I have to stay strong. Thus, he continued his ascent to the top of the mountain. At times he felt shortness of breath, his heart beat incredibly fast and he feared losing his grip on the ground and another fall, much more dangerous now because of the short cliffs, one fall from these and he would be falling through the air, not knowing where the ground would be. The slope was getting steeper and the falling boulders from the top kept increasing in frequency. He had to take multiple breaks to even advance a few meters upwards. A monotonous task, imbued with immediate physical peril and no sign of the end - any normal person would be overwhelmed and frustrated by this point. Svetavastra was not immune to these feelings but he could observe them dispassionately from a distance in his mind. If he succumbed, his mind would weaken, the dark energy needed him just once to give in to all the feelings he was feeling. Once he gave in, once he collapsed from fear or overwhelm or exhaustion, it could enter him with ease and corrupt his perceptions. Had he been able to meditate, this would not have been an issue at all. Cultivation made one immune to physical, mental, and emotional distress. The physical exhaustion of mountain climbing devoid of sense of time, visual cues being removed from his senses and a volley of emotions that come about from isolation for so long threatened to break his composure. He continued to climb, not ignoring them but not giving in to them either, just observing them as if he were a third person. This is the realm of illusions, he reminded himself. The illusion I need to break is that I¡¯m powerless in this situation. Svetavastra found himself on the edge of a precipice. Had he reached the top? He extended his staff ahead probing the space in front of him - only air, no ground. He felt a chill down his spine, silence filled the air. The wind had stopped. The abyss beyond his feet seemed endless. He felt a palpable fear to the core of his bone, a paralysing fear that seemed to have frozen him from moving. He was meant to collapse here and be broken at the meaninglessness of it all. He took a deep breath, and let go of the wooden staff that fell to the ground with a thud - he embraced the fear, spread his hands outward, with a smile on his face, tipped forward falling into the endless darkness of the abyss. Chapter 38: The First Kapala Chief Svetavastra felt a searing pain in his head. He felt it being pierced with a thousand fine needles. He focused on the sensation of the pain to gain control. He observed it with his mind''s eye. Slowly, he could disassociate himself from the physical pain. He had regained his access to the spiritual powers. He could see now with his mind''s eye. He had fallen from the realm of illusions, where he was trapped in the rupture of time of space into an ancestral memory. He could see with his mind''s eye that he was in a forest and that it was afternoon time. He felt the pull of the dark energy in the memory. This must be it, Svetavastra thought to himself. This must be the source of the ancestral bloodlust. He moved around the memory to get accustomed to the place and found a man meditating beneath a huge tree. The canopy sheltered him from the sun but light sifted through from the gaps and the soft shadows of the leaves played on his marred but stoic face. His body was also scarred. Some wounds were fresh. A wooden mask lay beside him on the ground. This man was a yaksha, Svetavastra could sense his yaksha powers. He could also sense an intense emotion emanating from him and a flicker of dark energy twirling around him unseen to the mortal eye. He is channelling such strong emotions of rage and vengeance, Svetavastra thought. He sat down to observe him and continued to do so till late evening when the sun had set and darkness soon filled the forest. To maintain such intense emotion beneath the surface without diluting them in any way was a tremendous feat. No wonder the bloodlust spilled over into future generations, Svetavastra thought. The yaksha opened his eyes and put on his wooden mask covering his scars and walked further into the forest. Svetavastra followed behind him. They soon reached a small settlement with a few huts and a campfire being set up in the middle. A young boy was playing around under the supervision of an old man. As soon as the boy spotted the man coming from the thicket to the settlement, he ran towards the masked man and jumped into his arms. "Father!" he said excitedly, happy to see him at last. "I''ve practiced all week the moves you taught me!" "Maruta," the yaksha said, with traces of fondness in his voice. "I will test you tomorrow then." "Yes, father!" the boy nodded enthusiastically. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "Your Highness," the old man said bowing to the yaksha. The yaksha put his son down and beckoned him to play. He sat down on a wooden log by the freshly lit campfire. The old man stood by the yaksha, his long gray hair glistening in the golden hue of the campfire. "I have performed the divination as you requested, Your Highness," the old man said. The yaksha waited for the priest to continue. "It would take another four generations for an heir to be born under the same star as you," he said. "Are you certain he or she can unlock the yaksha powers on their own?" the yaksha asked the priest. "It''s possible but I cannot give you full assurance," said the priest. "It''s a matter of probability than certainty." "Hmm," said the yaksha thinking about it. "How can I increase the probability then?" "There...is a way," said the priest with some hesitation. "Speak without fear," said the yaksha. The priest still hesitated for a while. The yaksha waited patiently. "If you can bring forth a bone needle from your body and use your yaksha blood to carve a tattoo into your son," said the priest. "You can transfer your core memories and latent yaksha powers to them." "What''s the caveat?" asked the yaksha. "The pain of course is extremely excruciating," said the priest. "But the main issue is, you will turn to dust once you do so since your yaksha core will be transferred and you will be devoid of the yaksha root." "It''s....," the priest hesitated again,"...suicide." The yaksha stayed silent sensing there was more. "Each generation for four generations down must do the same for the yaksha core to be potent enough to regain powers," said the priest. "Then it''s possible to regain the yaksha mani?" asked the yaksha. "Yes," said the priest. The yaksha slapped his hands on his knees before getting up as if to signal his decision. "It''s decided then," he said to the priest. "I urge you to give this proper thought," said the priest. "I will," said the yaksha before leaving to play with his son. Svetavastra observed this as a spectator, he was of course seeing a memory, and he could neither intervene nor participate in any way. The yaksha powers are curtailed? Svetavastra thought. That''s interesting. Could that be a reason for the bloodlust? Svetavastra needed to access more memories to make any concrete assumptions. But he pieced together how none of the yakshas that followed this yaksha had shown the yaksha powers in their life except when they passed on the tattoo to the next generation. They all lived as humans, more specifically as feared bandit leaders. They all wore wooden masks as well. It was the mark of the Kapala Army. Originally, Svetavastra had assumed that they wore masks to hide their faces from getting recognized by the Dayita officials. But now, he was having second thoughts. Could there be another reason? He came out of the ancestral memory and floated in the tunnel of time and space and looked at the ancestral bubbles filled with the memory of this yaksha surrounding him. All of them had traces of dark energy. His task was staring into his face, purifying all the ancestral memories and getting rid of the dark energy. I have to give this proper thought as well, Svetavastra told himself. Chapter 39: A Curious Fish in a Celestial Pond Prince Aryaman retired to his chamber for the night. The past few days and the Blood Oath ceremony had aged him. It finally began sinking in what it would mean to be a future king of Dayita. While he wouldn¡¯t be ascending to the throne shortly, he would have to start behaving like one and would have to start making decisions like one. The general of the kingdom has to stand resolutely behind the chosen heir. The Blood Oath was the king¡¯s way of binding both his son and General Pushya to the future of Dayita. Prince Aryaman was never the one to shy away from responsibility but sometimes the burden felt heavy, he was merely seventeen years old. Had his mother been around with him during this time, maybe he would have had the emotional support he needed at this crucial juncture. He stroked the hilt of the celestial sword in his hand as he stared into the night sky from his balcony. ¡°Mother,¡± he said softly. ¡°Sometimes, I just want to escape.¡± He remembered his mother¡¯s hand stroking his hair when he was a child sleeping in her lap. She would sing him soothing lullabies in her celestial tongue. He could still remember them, the words and the tune and he hummed it to himself to soothe his anxiety. He felt calmer and clear-headed after a while. He went inside his chamber and summoned the Undead Simulation Orb, the golden orb came forth from his chest and hovered in front of him. He touched it with his hand and he felt pulled into the simulation. He was in Northern Mines. The undead corpses were narrowing in on Svetavastra who stood with the celestial sword in its true glory.
Lord Samye felt the whole idea to be ridiculous but he humoured his old friend and colleague, Lord Bhoja who had turned himself into a fat red fish and was lying low in the lotus pond in Lord Samye¡¯s residence. ¡°You think you can escape the Heavenly Emperor''s notice this way?¡± asked Lord Samye shaking his head. He had nonetheless sat by the pond and started to feed the fish in it. Lord Bhoja came to the surface of the pond, his fish face looked comical as he tried to eat the feed. ¡°Samye, has the Heavenly Emperor ever paid attention to fish or other small creatures in the heavens?¡± asked Lord Bhoja. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean he can¡¯t,¡± said Lord Samye still shaking his head. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°Well, I intend to take advantage of that fact till he does,¡± returned the fish. ¡°Can you feed me some more?¡± Lord Samye sighed and threw some more fish feed into the pond and the hungry fish quickly ate that too. ¡°Spill the beans,¡± said Lord Bhoja finally satisfied with his meal. ¡°What beans?¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°The beans you have been cooking with Lord Vaiswa,¡± said the fish. ¡°Those beans.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you are talking about,¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°You know very well what I¡¯m talking about!¡± said the fish, getting agitated. ¡°I saw you two at the Pavilion of the Three Fish!¡± ¡°Where you there?¡± asked Lord Samye. ¡°I saw you two leaving the place,¡± said Lord Bhoja. ¡°I often go there to feed the fish.¡± ¡°Interesting,¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°I never ran into you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because I go there after you¡¯ve left,¡± said the fish. ¡°Ohh,¡± said Lord Samye. He became silent as he looked at the fish in the pond. It must have been tough for him too, he thought to himself. We can¡¯t even grieve together lest we rouse suspicion. ¡°No wonder the fish looked so fat,¡± Lord Samye commented. ¡°One might even assume they were being fattened for a feast.¡± ¡°Blasphemy!¡± said Lord Bhoja, flapping his fins in the water attempting to throw water at Lord Samye but failing miserably. ¡°You are deliberately provoking me Samye!¡± ¡°There there,¡± Lord Samye said, finally breaking into a smile. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since we sparred so.¡± The fish calmed with those words. ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± he said solemnly, a whiff of nostalgia clouding his fish eyes. He recovered within a few moments. ¡°You are trying to distract me!¡± the fish said pouting with his mouth. ¡°I don¡¯t even have to try,¡± grinned Lord Samye. ¡°You are too gullible.¡± The fish showed its tongue out to Lord Samye. ¡°So you won¡¯t give me anything?¡± it asked after a while. ¡°That¡¯s for the best,¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°The fewer people involved in this, the better.¡± ¡°Hmmpf!¡± said the fish annoyed but understanding. ¡°I feel left out.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no need for that,¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°Nothing is happening right now anyway. We just have to wait for the barrier to be opened.¡± ¡°Are you sure it can be opened?¡± asked the fish. ¡°The Heavenly Emperor mentioned an ancient god - is she the one who we think she is?¡± ¡°You seem to think I have all the answers just because I had a conversation with Lord Vaiswa,¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°I don¡¯t have the answers, Bhoja.¡± The fish turned silent. ¡°I miss her,¡± it said finally. ¡°Hmm,¡± said Lord Samye. They spent their time in silence for the next hour or so, tacitly comforting one another by their presence. ¡°Don¡¯t do this again, Bhoja,¡± said Lord Samye. ¡°It¡¯s too risky.¡± ¡°So we just spend the rest of our lives in fear?¡± said the fish. ¡°Maybe not the rest of our lives but for now, we can¡¯t let the Heavenly Emperor become suspicious,¡± said Lord Samye. The fish opened its mouth but no words came out. So, there is a valid reason for the Heavenly Emperor to be suspicious, Lord Bhoja thought, his mind racing with the possibilities. ¡°I understand,¡± he said nodding and went deep into the pond. That¡¯s all I can give you for now, Bhoja, Lord Samye thought to himself. The fewer people involved in this, the safer it was for everyone. The safer it was for General Atisha. Chapter 40: The Root of the Bloodlust A few hundred years before the present time, the Northern Mines was a prosperous abode under the rule of yakshas, forest spirits, who took shelter in the mineral-rich hilltop. The king of yakshas was a power-hungry and paranoid yaksha, who lived in constant fear of getting ousted by his younger brother, who was renowned for his righteousness. The younger brother did not have any intentions on the throne but the paranoid king did not believe that. To calm the king and quell and mis-founded fears, the younger brother willingly gave up his yaksha powers to the yaksha mani, the mythical gem under the care of the king of yakshas. In turn, the yaksha mani became more powerful with the influx of yaksha powers. This led to a power trip for the king and one by one he made all the yakshas give up their powers to the yaksha mani in return of safeguarding them in the Northern Mines. The only yaksha who had not transferred his powers Vajrin, the son of the younger brother, who had left Northern Mines to roam the vast lands beyond it and see the world. When Vajrin returned to the Northern Mines a few years later, tragedy struck the hill. The king of yakshas had placed the Northern Mines and all the gems in it as a bet with a hitherto unknown young man in a game of dice in a bout of arrogance. Luck was on the side of this young man, who would later find the dynasty of Dayita. The king of yakshas bound by the heavenly rules, gave up his claim to the Northern Mines and buried the yaksha mani deep within the mines so that in principle it could belong to the young man but not be known or found by him. When Vajrin returned, the exodus of yakshas from the Northern Mines had just begun. Yakshas by nature were being spirits rooted to a place, this exodus did not suit them, and some outrightly refused and chose to perish in the Northern Mines. Vajrin enraged by the injustice meted out to the yakshas by the stupidity of their king, challenged the latter and defeated him in a duel that lasted for thirty days and thirty nights, both sides were heavily injured affecting their yaksha powers but the king of yakshas lost to Vajrin. Having finally realised the futility of everything he had done, the king entrusted the location of the yaksha mani before passing away. Vajrin now heavily injured and unable to use his yaksha powers led the remaining yakshas away from the Northern Mines, seeking a safe place for them to relocate. Without the yaksha powers, they were similar to normal mortals and as they passed by one city to another, one village to the next, they found no help, on the contrary, they were actively shunned from every place they visited. Some more yakshas perished in this manner unable to bear the destitute state they found themselves in. Vajrin was merely seventeen years old at this time, the series of tragic events and fate that put him in helpless situations one after the other darkened his heart and he swore to become strong and get revenge on all those who looked down on them at their moment of weakness. The despair and hatred he harboured gave me strength to power through the difficulties they encountered on their seemingly perpetual journey. One time, they were surrounded by a group of bandits as they were passing through a forest. Vajrin and his yaksha kinsfolk were outnumbered by the bandits. They fought with whatever strength they had left with Vajrin leading his kinsfolk. Vajrin defeated the bandit chief and took over the bandit group and found safe haven in the deep forests on the west of what would later be the vast Dayita empire. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The hatred in his heart turned to bloodlust and Vajrin put on the bandit mask and would wreak havoc among any wealthy traders who had passed by those forests. Rumours spread of masked bandits who called themselves Kapalas, carrying heads of rich men as trophies in their war chests tied to their horses. He married into the bandit group and soon his son Maruta was born. Vajrin kept trying to revive his yaksha powers through all of this but to no avail. That was when he learned that it could take a few generations down his bloodline to revive the yaksha powers. He was determined to make that happen and created the blood tattoo that passed down from his to his son and from his son to his future generations, till the time Toyesha, who had the same star as Vajrin was born, reviving the once-lost yaksha powers. The yaksha mani having acquired all the yaksha powers and being a chalice of power and greed became corrupted and prone to getting affected by dark energy that was seeping into the subterranean realms during this time. Toyesha having found the yaksha mani and merging it with his heart became susceptible to the dark energy and the ancestral bloodlust that revived yaksha powers through him. This is what Svetavastra had learned from all the memory bubbles that were floating around him in the tunnel of time and space, with wisps of dark energy surrounding them like a veil. This dark energy has grown strong having fed on the bloodlust, Svetavastra thought to himself. It¡¯s too strong for me to purify it inside of Toyesha - it might even be dangerous for him should I do so. He could be the last of his kind, I cannot take that kind of risk. Svetavastra became pensive as he thought of the ways in which he could contain the dark energy without affecting the Kapala Chief. First, I need to separate the dark energy from Toyesha, Svetavastra thought, resolving himself to see it through. He made a gesture with his hand as he floated in the tunnel of time and space and a small fire of purple spiritual energy sprung from the tips of his fingers, rising from it, gaining volume as it rose higher and higher, its purple flames twisting and turning as if guided by unseen wind, covering the ancestral memory bubbles one by one. Chapter 41: The Rays of the Full Moon The ruins of the border city were washed by the golden-orange light of the afternoon sun, Svetavastra continued to channel his spiritual energy to the Kapala Chief. In the mind realm, in the tunnel of time and space, Svetavastra was using his spiritual powers to engulf the dark energy that cast a net on the ancestral memory bubbles. These memory bubbles were directly linked to the yaksha mani in the Kapala Chief¡¯s heart. As Svetavastra progressed, sending the purple spiritual flames to separate the dark energy from the ancestral memories, the Kapala Chief grimaced. He felt unbearable pain like a thousand knives were stabbing his heart repeatedly. However, he continued to meditate focusing on his breath to numb his pain. ¡°Toyesha,¡± Svetavastra called out to him from the mind realm. ¡°I cannot purify the dark energy from within your body, I would not be able to control the spiritual flames if I release them completely, they can devour you from within.¡± The Kapala Chief stayed calm and continued to listen to Svetavastra. ¡°I will be separating the dark energy from your ancestral memories and the yaksha mani,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I have to fight this dark energy on my own. In a short while, once I¡¯m done separating the dark energy from you, I want you to escape from this place. Your body will be drained and exhausted. Go to the spring in Amarkantak and regain your powers. Lakhan is waiting for you at the western entry of the city.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± said the Kapala Chief. ¡°I want you to reflect on your actions during this time, Toyesha,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Even though it¡¯s the dark energy that unleashed horror on this city, it is you who has to bear responsibility. You are the vessel through which it acted.¡± ¡°I know,¡± said the Kapala Chief, his voice bleak. ¡°When you have done reflecting, come to me,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You can find me using your yaksha powers. Help me fight the dark energy manifesting on Bhu-loka.¡± ¡°I will find you,¡± nodded the Kapala Chief. This was the first time, Svetavastra spoke so much at a time, however, these things needed to be said. He pushed his hand forward increasing the intensity of the spiritual flames. But the dark energy persisted on the ancestral memory bubbles with a striking resistance. The dark energy is stronger than I anticipated, Svetavastra thought to himself his brows furrowed. Looks like I have to use the naga mani to separate it from Toyesha. With one hand channelling the spiritual powers, he called forth the naga mani, the red pearl from himself. The luminescent red pearl floated before him, he willed it to go forth and it became bigger in size as big as Svetavastra himself and sent a shockwave that could be felt in the human realm as well creating an energy barrier. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Svetavastra trapped the dark energy in the red energy barrier created by the naga mani. He brought it outside of the Kapala Chief using his spiritual powers and took it high above the ground to separate them physically to the extent possible. ¡°Toyesha!¡± shouted Svetavastra, ¡°Run!¡± At once, the Kapala Chief opened his eyes, and got up momentarily transfixed by the levitating Svetavastra surrounded by a red energy barrier fighting the dark energy within it above the city. ¡°Run!¡± He heard Svetavastra¡¯s voice in his head and he ran towards the western gate, clutching his chest with his hand. Soon, he saw his faithful comrade Lakhan obediently waiting at the gate protected by a spiritual barrier. ¡°Chief!¡± Lakhan shouted in relief seeing him and ran towards him. The Kapala Chief collapsed in Lakhan¡¯s arms, tired from all the exertion he had been put through. ¡°We need to head North,¡± he whispered before losing consciousness. Lakhan at once picked him, put him on the horse and galloped northward at full speed. Long shadows cast by the rays of the setting sun, blurred on the ground as they sped through the road bound to the North. As night began to descend, the man stood on the outskirts of the forest outside of the border city, only his silhouette was visible. He gazed at the sky where the red energy barrier floated like a small tiny sun. He began to walk towards the city. Svetavastra found his spiritual energy steadily depleting as he kept using the naga mani to contain and purify the dark energy. Fortunately, he had the good sense to send some of his spiritual powers to double-seal the pretabandana in case something happened to his own powers. Having a cosmic weapon would have made it easier for him to vanquish the dark energy. He couldn¡¯t remember anything about his own weapons, he felt he had a few. He felt the irony of how he was able to penetrate into the ancestral memories of the Kapala Chief, while he himself couldn¡¯t regain the memories of the current life. If only I can cultivate without being disturbed for a few months, he thought to himself. I can generate enough spiritual powers to balance my chakras and maybe even regain some memories. As the red flames began to vanquish the dark energy, Svetavastra wondered if he would have such luxury to devote so many days at a time to cultivate when episode after episode of the dark energy kept cropping out throughout the land. He brushed aside the thought and shifted his attention back to the naga mani. The flames had almost eaten the dark energy, only a tiny sliver of it remained. Svetavastra could feel himself weakening, he was losing control of the flames and his body, as his spiritual powers drained to their last. The last of the dark energy sliver was consumed by the flames of the naga mani and the red barrier vanished the next moment. It was early night by this time and the full moon started to come out from behind the clouds. Svetavastra felt heavy like lead and realised he would fall to the ground with no spiritual powers to support his levitation. He felt frozen unable to do anything and the rays of the full moon fell on him, his male skin disappeared with the rays revealing his original female form. She closed her eyes and resigned herself to falling, feeling the cold air brush past her rapidly as she fell. I can survive a crash, she thought to herself. Instead of feeling the ground, she felt herself caught in the arms of a man. Chapter 42: A Walk Under the Moonlit Sky The rays of the moonlight illuminated the king¡¯s chamber through the large balcony, the night was still young and the silk curtains gentled and swayed with the breeze. The King of Dayita paced across the length of his large and luxurious chamber. He had just received some disturbing news from the prime minister who acted as his chief of spies. Prince Aryaman was duly summoned and it was while waiting for the prince that the king started to pace about the chamber to calm his nerves. After a short while, the prince had come to join him. ¡°Come in, Arya!¡± the king gestured with his hand beckoning him inside. ¡°Greetings father,¡± said Prince Aryaman paying his respects with a bow. The king put his hand on the prince¡¯s shoulder and sighed. Prince Aryaman immediately understood that something grave had taken place. ¡°What do you require me to do, father?¡± he asked without even knowing about the situation. The king smiled at him feebly, internally swelling with pride and love at Aryaman¡¯s devotion to him and Dayita. ¡°A border city towards the east of Dayita is reported to have been annihilated,¡± said the king collecting himself, putting his hands behind his back and walking towards the balcony. ¡°Annihilated?¡± asked Prince Aryaman, his eyes widening in surprise. ¡°Is it an act of war?¡± ¡°It seems to be an isolated incident,¡± said the king. ¡°The undead may be involved.¡± ¡°Ohh!¡± said the prince. ¡°I shall at once go and investigate it, Father!¡± ¡°Take someone trustworthy with you,¡± said the king turning to look at him. Prince Aryaman nodded. ¡°I will,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s keep it under wraps for now,¡± said the king. ¡°I don¡¯t want to create panic unnecessarily. We shouldn¡¯t also alert our neighbouring kingdoms lest they take advantage of this situation.¡± ¡°Understood Father,¡± said the prince. He bowed and took leave. The king stared at the bright full moon in the sky for a while before he retired for the night.
Svetavastra felt herself caught in the arms of a strong man. Drained of her spiritual powers, she couldn¡¯t see him using her mind¡¯s eye. She felt his chest with one of her hands, it felt toned and solid. Her hand rose to touch his face, feeling his eyes, nose, and lips, the latter quivered under her touch. She withdrew her hand quickly as if it had caught fire. She loosened the blindfold to look at him. She caught her breath as she saw his face, a beautiful face, illuminated like a pearl by the full moon. What a beautiful man, she thought to herself, fully transfixed by the sight. It took her a few moments to catch herself. It¡¯s the chakra imbalance which is causing these stupid feelings, she flicked herself mentally. She gently pried herself out of his arms and put some distance between them. She turned to look around partly to avoid meeting his eyes again. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The man for his part stood frozen for a while. She¡¯s interested in me, he thought to himself in disbelief. He took some breaths to calm himself down. ¡°Thank you for saving me,¡± Svetavastra said bowing to him. ¡°Right time, right place,¡± said the man and raised his hands to brush the matter aside. ¡°You are¡­?¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I am Manu,¡± said the man. Ma..nu, Svetavastra mentally spoke his name to herself. ¡°I¡¯m sent to you by the heavens to help you recover your cosmic weapons,¡± said Manu. ¡°Ohh,¡± said Svetavastra somewhat taken aback and trying to process this information. My weapons! Svetavastra thought to herself. I have cosmic weapons?! ¡°You know me then?¡± She asked. Manu opened his mouth to say something but stopped seeing Svetavastra¡¯s hand gesture. ¡°No no, don¡¯t tell me,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to know, let me regain my memories and form my thoughts based on them. I don¡¯t want external influence on my thoughts.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± said Manu with a smile. Svetavastra gasped, her heart seemed to have become captive of his smile. It physically hurt her just looking at his pure unadulterated beauty. This won¡¯t work, Svetavastra turned around and slapped her face with her hands to get her act together. She cleared her throat. ¡°I drained my spiritual powers due to an ordeal,¡± she said. ¡°I need to go to the nearest ley line and cultivate to recuperate my powers.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Manu. ¡°Let¡¯s head there, we can talk while walking.¡± Svetavastra headed out of the razed city and into the forest with Manu by her side. He gave her enough space to navigate through the forest. He simply seemed content to be walking by her side, stealing occasionally glances at her. Svetavastra for her part, decided it was best if she didn¡¯t look at him. She needed her wits to be about and well. ¡°So where are my weapons?¡± Svetavastra asked finally breaking the silence. ¡°Do you not remember anything?¡± Manu said trying to understand Svetavastra¡¯s memory loss. ¡°Not much,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I seem to be cavalier with my spiritual powers. The ones I drained right now were given to me by Irawati, a generous and kind blind avva. My original spiritual powers were drained again by my own actions but I don¡¯t remember why, for what reason, or where.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Manu. ¡°My chakras are imbalanced as a result,¡± continued Svetavastra. ¡°I cannot regain my original spiritual powers until I balance my chakras properly. I need to cultivate unimpeded for that to happen, at least for several months. But that seems like a distant luxury given whatever is happening.¡± ¡°I can imagine,¡± said Manu nodding along. ¡°As a stopgap solution, I have switched to Irawati¡¯s spiritual powers as my source,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I can generate and use her powers properly as long as I comply with her physical infirmary. Hence, the blindfold.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Manu. Silence filled in for a while and they continued to walk through the forest. ¡°Your weapons,¡± said Manu breaking the silence. ¡°They are spread across four corners of this world.¡± ¡°How many weapons do I have?¡± asked Svetavastra curious. ¡°You had four,¡± said Manu. ¡°The divine sword, the divine bow, the divine mace and the divine chakra.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°How do I get them back?¡± ¡°You just have to go and retrieve each one from where they are stashed,¡± said Manu. Svetavastra eyed him with doubt. ¡°Something tells me it¡¯s not so straightforward,¡± she said. ¡°It is straightforward,¡± said Manu. ¡°It may not be easy to retrieve them though.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± said Manu. They walked in silence through the forest for the next few hours until they reached a stream. Svetavastra found the tree she had initially started to cultivate under before the whole incident with the Kapala Chief had occurred. She couldn¡¯t see the preta deep in meditation protected by her invisible barrier as her own powers were drained. She turned to look for Manu but he was right behind her, so she collided into him. He caught her to keep her from falling and she looked at him, her eyes fixed on his, her cheeks flushed. They stood like that for a while, how long it was difficult to determine, Svetavastra felt she lost her senses and the sense of time. ¡°I¡­I need to cultivate,¡± Svetavastra drawled. Manu let go of her with grace. ¡°As you wish,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll stand guard.¡± Svetavastra sat down cross-legged under the tree and closed her eyes to meditate. Her breathing became even quickly and she went into a deep meditative state. Chapter 43: The Ruins of a Fallen City Prince Aryaman set out to the border city along with Sanjaya, a trusted aide who had been a key player in the Battle of the Northern Mines. It had taken them an entire day on horseback to reach the border city. They had set out the previous night and when they reached the city, the sun had already set. Prince Aryaman slowed down his horse as he reached the city gates, he could see silhouettes of broken buildings beyond it. He got down from his horse and looked around to examine the surroundings. Sanjaya followed suit and lit up a couple of torches and handed one to the prince. ¡°What the heck has happened here?¡± Sanjaya said as he looked at the desolate and empty city lying in ruins. A cold wind blew rustling the fallen leaves and sending a shiver down the two men at the rubles of the city gate. ¡°Who could have done this?¡± said Sanjaya as he stepped forward into the city. He brandished his torch like a sword as he moved forward. ¡°You coming, Your Highness?¡± he asked looking back. Prince Aryaman stood still, rooted to the spot, lost in thoughts, with his hand rubbing his chin. The flame from the torch flickered near his face highlighting his deep contemplative eyes. ¡°Your Highness?¡± repeated Sanjaya. ¡°Sanjaya,¡± said Prince Aryaman looking at him. ¡°Have a quick run through across the city and look for any surviving people. Meet me at the center of the city in a couple of hours.¡± ¡°Aye Your Highness!¡± saluted Sanjaya, he got on his horse and rode into the city. Prince Aryaman walked to the rubble of the city gates, with Himmat, his horse by his side, who looked visibly uncomfortable walking in spooky-looking places. He examined the dried blood he had noticed earlier. Blood but no bodies anywhere near, thought Prince Aryaman. Were the bodies moved or did they move themselves like it happened in the Northern Mines?! Prince Aryaman looked around for any evidence of footprints going outward into the forest from the city. He went ahead and looked around for any signs of movement in the vicinity of the forest and the beginning of the forest. Not finding anything of use, he returned to the ruins of the city gates and entered the city. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Someone or some people had attacked and killed the soldiers and city folk, thought Prince Aryaman. But the bodies just disappeared. If the bodies had indeed turned into the undead, they either are inside the city or have escaped from other entrances. Prince Aryaman then proceeded to walk along the perimeters of the city wall and searched all the entrances for any signs of outbreak outward. Having found none, he slowly walked towards the center of the city. The wind at times made shrill noises as it blew through fallen buildings. As Prince Aryaman walked admist the ruins, he noticed the vines that had crept over the debris of the fallen city. He touched a vine and felt it¡¯s rough surface. Vines spreading across the fallen buildings, thought Prince Aryaman. Are forest spirits involved?! As Aryaman walked further into the city, he noticed ash, soot and charred remnants in some places. Fire? Aryaman thought. Did the fire burn the bodies? This doesn¡¯t confirm whether the undead rose here or not. Aryaman finally arrived at the center of the city and found the spot where the pillar of green fire arose some days back. It had left charred ground in its wake with imprints of the flames on the ground. Aryaman stooped to have a better look at him. He heard the sound of Sanjaya¡¯s horse reaching the place. ¡°This is unbelievable!¡± said Sanjaya alighting his horse. ¡°Not a single soul dead or alive anywhere! It¡¯s a ghost city!¡± Aryaman continued his examination of the marks on the ground and found a half-charred wooden mask inside a pile of ash. He dusted the ask off the mask and inspected the mask. The Kapala Mask?! Prince Aryaman thought, his eyes widening in surprise. ¡°Did you find something, Your Highness?¡± asked Sanjaya coming nearer. Prince Aryaman got up and showed the half-burnt mask to Sanjaya. ¡°The Kapala Army?¡± asked Sanjaya in shock. ¡°Didn¡¯t we capture them all?¡± ¡°The Chief of the Kapala Army escaped that day,¡± said Prince Aryaman recollecting how he was attacked by a ball of fire by the Kapala Chief. Could the Kapala Chief be a yaksha? Did he cause this horror? Aryaman thought, pondering the possibility. It explained the supernatural powers. However, Aryaman kept his assumptions to himself. He didn¡¯t want to put any unfounded theories into his subordinate¡¯s mind. ¡°He could have perished for all we know,¡± said Sanjaya looking around. ¡°Hmm,¡± said Prince Aryaman. ¡°Where¡¯s the nearest settlement to this city?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a village south of this place in a couple of yojanas,¡± said Sanjaya. ¡°I used to routinely visit it when I was on border patrol duty.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s head there and ask around,¡± said Prince Aryaman. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll find some more clues.¡± ¡°Aye Your Highness,¡± said Sanjaya. Both alighted their horses and headed towards the nearby village south of the border city. Chapter 44: The Manipulation of Ley Lines A day had passed since Svetavastra started meditating under the tree by the stream. Manu had kept vigil and did not even take a short break for the entire time. Finally registering both of their presence after an entire day, the preta who had been meditating under the same tree hidden by the spiritual barrier broke its meditation. This meditating woman looks similar to No-god God, thought the preta. Is she No-god God? If so, what happened to her blindfold? And why is she here with a man?! The preta tried to get out of the barrier to have a closer look at the meditating woman but it found itself trapped within the barrier. I can¡¯t get out of this barrier! the preta thought. ¡°No-god God! No-god God¡ª The preta started to shout but stopped mid-sentence. If it¡¯s really No-god God, I shouldn¡¯t disturb her divinity while she¡¯s in cultivation. The preta sighed and hovered in despair inside the barrier and after a short while turned its attention to the man instead. Who is this pleasant-looking young man? It thought and scratched its head with its make-believe translucent hands. Why is he keeping guard? It¡¯s good that he¡¯s keeping guard. He seems vaguely familiar. But I can¡¯t recall where I¡¯ve seen him. Should I frighten this man by trapping him in an illusion? the preta thought. He is standing guard and if this is really her divinity, I shouldn¡¯t disrupt this man¡¯s service. The preta sighed again. I¡¯m trapped and I¡¯m tied by morality now! Speak of influence of association! No-god God, all of this is your fault! Large and dark clouds slowly covered the sky and hid the waning full moon and soon the sky became a shroud of darkness. Manu furrowed his eyes in concern as he looked up at the dark sky. The air grew colder in an instant, a sharp contrast to the warm night. The ley line intersection, previously invisible to the eye, began to crackle and glow with an ominous red energy. A vortex of red energy emerged from the intersection of the ley lines and spit out grotesque rogue pretas that made unholy sounds that sent shivers down the spine of both the preta protected by the spiritual barrier as well as the unarmed and unprotected human. Rogue pretas again! The preta protected by the spiritual barrier thought. Manu quickly placed himself as a shield protecting the meditating Svetavastra. The rogue pretas were all but ready to pounce on Manu and eat his flesh - at once, Svetavastra covered her eyes with the blindfold she hid in her robes and leapt into air hovering over the stream to attract the rogue pretas away from the human. Since she possessed spiritual energy, made more pure and attractive to the pretas by her white robes, the rogue pretas quickly turned and swarmed towards her. Manu stood by the bank and helplessly watched Svetavastra fend the hungry rogue pretas all by herself. Stolen story; please report. The preta from the spiritual barrier also watched the scene unfold with growing alarm. It is No-god God! It thought to itself, as the woman¡¯s identity was finally confirmed. ¡°Use the pretabandana, No-god God!¡± it shouted from the spiritual barrier. As if hearing the preta¡¯s words, Svetavastra brought out the pretabandana, the ghost-capture urn and thrust it up into the air. The spiritual device cast a net around the swarming rogue pretas and within moments captured them all into the urn. Svetavastra having expended all of the spiritual she recently acquired from a day¡¯s cultivation, collapsed from air and fell into the downward-flowing stream. Manu quickly jumped into the stream himself and swam towards her. ¡°No-god God! No-god God!¡± shouted the preta banging the spiritual barrier with its make-believe hands to no avail. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me behind!¡± Manu''s breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale a struggle against the cold, swirling water that threatened to drag him under. His eyes were fixed on Svetavastra, her white robes a stark contrast against the dark, churning water. She floated, unconscious and vulnerable, her form tossed about like a rag doll. The current carried her further away, and for a heart-stopping moment, she seemed almost out of reach. Manu''s heart pounded in his chest, fear mingling with determination as he surged forward. Water splashed into his face, blinding him momentarily. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, his arms aching from the constant, powerful strokes. Just when it seemed he might not reach her, his fingertips brushed against the fabric of her robe. The brief contact sent a jolt of hope through him, and with a final, desperate lunge, he extended his arm fully, his fingers curling around her wrist. He pulled her towards him with all the strength he could muster, the effort nearly causing his muscles to cramp. Her body was limp and cold against his, her head lolling to the side. Manu tightened his grip, wrapping his arm securely around her waist, and pulling her close to his chest. ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± he told her unconscious self between his gasps. As Manu looked forward he noticed the sharp fall of the water at some distance. They were heading towards the precipice of a waterfall!Holding her with one arm, he tried to steer towards the bank swimming against the current. He found a branch of a tree as a last respite and held onto it, gasping for breath and trying to keep Svetavastra¡¯s face above water. He adjusted his grip on her and pulled her closer. The branch creaked with the heavy weight and cracks started to appear at the base. Manu tried to get Svetavastra onto the bank and just as he was about to reach the edge of the bank, the branch gave away and both of them got caught up in the swirl of the current and headed precariously towards the edge of the water. Unable to swim against the current any longer, Manu held Svetavastra close to him and wrapped his hands around Svetavastra¡¯s head. ¡°I¡¯ll protect you,¡± his voice broke through the din of water, strained but unwavering. His grip on her tightened as his desperation increased. Ahead, the stream¡¯s roar grew louder, the edge of the waterfall drawing near. Manu¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I¡¯ll protect you,¡± he said again. Chapter 45: A Fair to Remember Svetavastra twitched her eyes open, she had been resting on a woven bed. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, she could barely make sense of it. Her clothes had been changed and she was now wearing a cotton tunic and skirt. Where am I? She thought to herself. She could hear voices from the foyer, a casual conversation was in progress. ¡°How long have you been married?¡± a male voice asked someone. ¡°I bet they are newlywed!¡± a female voice said confidently. ¡°They look young and in love!¡± ¡°Honoured hosts,¡± said Manu, his voice gentle, light, and calm. ¡°I am grateful for your help. You are our saviours!¡± ¡°Enough of it, Shriman!¡± said the male voice. ¡°You have thanked us multiple times already!¡± ¡°Have you guys eloped by any chance?¡± asked the male voice. Manu coughed in response. Svetavastra, having realised the conversation was about Manu and her, decided to interrupt them before Manu could respond. ¡°You are awake!¡± Manu said getting up from the stone bench in the foyer. ¡°Are you feeling well?¡± He asked coming near to her. Svetavastra felt somewhat disoriented by his concern and his devoted eyes. She murmured that she was feeling alright. Manu was in the company of an older couple, who exchanged knowing looks. ¡°Not past the honeymoon stage,¡± whispered the older woman to her husband. ¡°Sveta,¡± said Manu. ¡°This is Acharya Parama and his wife Shrimati Anasuya. They saved us from drowning in the river after we fell from the waterfall.¡± ¡°We were just at the right place, at the right time,¡± said Acharya Parama his voice meek from all the prolonged gratitude conveyed by Manu. ¡°It is the will of Gods!¡± ¡°Thank you for your kindness, respected sir and madam,¡± said Svetavastra with a bow. ¡°You must be hungry,¡± said Anasuya. ¡°You have been sleeping since morning and the sun has just set.¡± ¡°I¡ª Before Svetavastra could say anything, she was interrupted. ¡°Why don¡¯t you guys go to the fair in the village and check it out?¡± Anasuya suggested. ¡°You would find many local delicacies, much more than what I can make right now for you.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a fair in the village right now?¡± asked Manu curious. ¡°Yes, indeed,¡± said Acharya Parama. ¡°Tomorrow is the grand festival of the local deity here, so the celebrations have already begun. Looks like you two have come to the village at the right time.¡± Acharya Parama then went on to explain the significance of the local deity and how tomorrow¡¯s festival is an annual festival, held to commemorate the protection offered by the local deity to the village. Ritual prayers would be conducted the next day at the main temple outside the village where the villagers would perform pooja to the local deity. It was considered to be an auspicious day and a highly anticipated event. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°Usually, we would have merchants from other regions coming here to set up their stalls,¡± said Acharya Parama. ¡°But the movement of trade has come to a stop even since the curfew has been in place. We don¡¯t know when it will be lifted.¡± ¡°Trying times,¡± commented Manu. ¡°Indeed!¡± said Acharya Parama. ¡°A green pillar of light was spotted some days ago nearby. It¡¯s a terrible omen. We hope to seek protection again from the local deity through the ritual prayers tomorrow.¡± ¡°All will be well,¡± said Manu in a comforting voice. Svetavastra stomach made some noises interrupting the conversation. Anasuya smiled and took the cue to act. ¡°Off you guys go now!¡± She pushed them out of her house and into the streets. ¡°Go and enjoy the evening! And don¡¯t forget to buy new clothes for tomorrow¡¯s prayers!¡±
Svetavastra and Manu started walking towards the fair at the center of the village, they didn¡¯t have to walk for long since it was a small village and they didn¡¯t have to worry about the directions since many people were going and coming towards the well-lit fair. The fair was a lively event with people teeming around, local musicians were playing drums and singing folk songs. Many food stalls with freshly made sweets and savoury food were on display and the food vendors kept calling out announcing the varieties to the public. Manu took Svetavastra to a food stall and they ate freshly made jalebi and some savoury bajjis. ¡°These are so good!¡± said Svetavastra as she helped herself to a second round of both. Manu smiled looking at her. Once they were done eating, they slowly walked from one stall to another. Svetavastra was transfixed with all the stalls and there was so much to see, her eyes lit up in wonder! Stalls selling prayer essentials such as coconuts and sandalwood, stalls for clothing, cosmetics, jewellery, and so on. She hadn¡¯t encountered anything so lively from what she could remember. She soaked in all the sights and the sounds. ¡°This is amazing!¡± she said to Manu. ¡°Yes, it is,¡± he returned. ¡°You can buy anything you want, it¡¯s on me.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± said Svetavastra. She didn¡¯t realise she could buy things for herself, it was entirely a new concept. She didn¡¯t recall having any money either. She never needed it thus far. ¡°But why would I need anything?¡± she asked genuinely puzzled as they continued to walk. Manu smiled to himself. Of course, you wouldn¡¯t need anything, he thought to himself. ¡°We need to buy new clothes for the pooja tomorrow,¡± said Manu. ¡°Are we staying here till tomorrow?¡± Svetavastra asked. ¡°Yes,¡± said Manu. ¡°This is a great opportunity! You are a god, If you perform the pooja yourself, you can get some of your powers back via the local deity.¡± ¡°I am a god?¡± asked Svetavastra puzzled. Manu sighed. ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± said Manu. ¡°But you are one, although you don¡¯t have the powers of one.¡± ¡°Why would the local deity give me her powers?¡± asked Svetavastra. ¡°Because you¡¯ll perform the pooja as a rite and you¡¯ll take up the responsibility of protecting this village,¡± said Manu. Svetavastra fell silent as she absorbed this information. ¡°No hesitation,¡± said Manu. ¡°Protecting comes naturally to you. And in return, you will gain enough powers to protect them." He gestured to all the people around. "And some for yourself as well. It is only fair.¡± They stopped at a clothing stall selling silk sarees at this point. Many beautiful sarees in lovely colours of pink, orange, lavender and more with contrasting borders adored with golden threads were on display from top to bottom. ¡°This pink saree would make you look like a princess, young lady,¡± said the vendor showing the pink saree. Svetavastra shook her head to say no. She browsed through the sarees and pointed to one white saree hidden among other sarees. It had maroon border and golden thread. The vendor pulled it down from the top and he had an interesting look on his face. ¡°This is actually not for sale,¡± he said slowly. ¡°This is an extra piece of saree that was made as a backup. The original one was weaved for the local deity to be worn for the ritual tomorrow.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll take it!¡± said Manu. ¡°But I don¡¯t think¡ª Manu placed a heavy pouch filled with coins on the counter and the vendor¡¯s objections promptly stopped with the weight of the thud he heard. ¡°You have the divine blessings, young lady,¡± he said with a grin.
Shriman - a honorific conveying respect. Similar to Mister Acharya - teacher Pooja - ritual prayer Jalebi - a curly fried sweet dipped in sugar syrup Bajji - fritters made of chickpea flour and varied vegetables Saree - an unstitched garment of about 6 meters which is tied around the waist in pleats, with the open end thrown across the chest and hanging from the back. Chapter 46: A Water Fairy in the Lotus Pond Prince Aryaman and Sanjaya had reached the village late in the night, they were exhausted by their continuous travel and the inspection of the fallen border city. They found the boarding house Sanjaya used to frequent during his border patrol duty. The housemaster instantly recognised Sanjaya and warmly welcomed them. He quickly arranged their rooms and housed the horses in the stables (Himmat was finally happy to have found some respite from continuous travel and access to hay, without wasting any time, he lunged into his favourite food) and amidst conversation mentioned about the fair happening in the village and the festival that was to take place the day after. Having found nothing else of significance, Aryaman and Sanjaya retired to their rooms and rested for the night. The next day, after taking a bath and having a good breakfast, Prince Aryaman and Sanjaya headed out into the village leaving the horses to rest for the day. The village was decked for the festival, there were leaves and flowers tied to every house entrance, rangoli adorned the ground in front of the house and the people were dressed in festive clothes and cheerfully preparing for the day¡¯s ritual at the temple outside. ¡°Who would be the right person to talk to regarding the fallen city?¡± Prince Aryaman asked Sanjaya as they were walking through the village. ¡°Usually, traders would be ideal but there has been no trade since the curfew has been implemented,¡± said Sanjaya. ¡°The local priest would be the next best bet. People might approach him if they witnessed anything untoward.¡± Prince Aryaman nodded pleased with Sanjaya¡¯s reasoning. ¡°I agree,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s head towards the temple then.¡± ¡°Sveta,¡± said Anasuya who wore a green silk saree with a golden threaded blue border. ¡°You look so beautiful in the saree!¡± Svetavastra had worn the saree Manu had got her the previous day. She looked like a vision, divine and ethereal in the white saree, like a cosmic emissary sent to this world. Svetavastra felt uncomfortable with the compliment, she did not like getting attention for her looks (especially by men but now she felt ambivalent about it ever since her encounter with Manu and her attraction to him) and that was the main reason she chose to wear a male skin. She was stuck in her original form for a while, she still needed to recover her spiritual powers and if she indeed received cosmic powers from the pooja she would do today, they would accelerate her spiritual powers and aid in their quick regeneration. They had come out into the foyer and Svetavastra¡¯s eyes met Manu¡¯s. A blush crept into her cheeks and she averted her gaze. She didn¡¯t have to hear Manu¡¯s compliments. His eyes said it all. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°We¡¯ll meet you inside the temple after we collect the lotus flowers,¡± said Anasuya to the two men clad in white dhotis and white shawls. ¡°Sure madam,¡± said Manu. He stood still for a while and his eyes lingered on Svetavastra as both women headed out. Acharya Parama cleared his throat. ¡°Shall we also make a move?¡± he said. The lotus pond was right outside the temple and was teeming with women who all wanted to get the fresh lotuses as offerings to the local deity. The sea of lotuses was surrounded by a sea of women in brightly coloured sarees. The vendors along the path to the temple had stalls with cut lotuses, coconuts, and leaves auspicious for prayer offerings such as tulsi, bael, mango leaves among others, camphor, incense and sandalwood. The air was filled with the pleasant aroma of fresh flowers such as marigolds and the whiff of lotuses fused with the scent of sandalwood paste. ¡°It would be nice if we could also get fresh lotuses,¡± said Anasuya as she eyed the crowded edge of the pond. ¡°Let me get us some then,¡± said Svetavastra, she tied up her saree to knee level and disregarding Anasuya¡¯s protests, she nudged herself into the crowd and moved forward into the pond (the rest of the women were on the edge since they didn¡¯t want to wet their sarees by mistake). The center of the pond was less crowded and also had more lotuses. Svetavastra smiled at the lotus blooms and gently plucked a few of them. ¡°What a lively sight!¡± said Sanjaya referring to the women surrounding the pond. They had just reached the temple. Prince Aryaman had no interest in the women but he spotted the one in the middle of the pond, the water was shimmering golden and gave her a radiance that immediately caught his attention. She seemed ethereal, like a water fairy out to enjoy the day. What a lovely lady, he thought to himself. Before he could take a proper look at her she had disappeared into the crowd of colour sarees. He searched for her over and over again with his eyes but he couldn¡¯t find her anything in the temple premises. ¡°Are you okay, Your Highness?¡± Sanjaya asked in concern. ¡°Yes,¡± said the prince without looking at Sanjaya, still continuing his search. ¡°The priest is here,¡± said Sanjaya gesturing to a podium of the temple where the pooja setup was being done by Acharya Parama. ¡°Yes,¡± said the prince trying to snap out of his sudden obsession with the white saree fairy lady. ¡°Greetings Archakamuni,¡± said Prince Aryaman. ¡°Greetings young man,¡± said Acharya Parama looking up from his arrangements. ¡°You seem new here.¡± ¡°I am Arya,¡± said Prince Aryaman. ¡°My friend Sanjaya and I were passing by escaping from bandits and we ended up here.¡± Acharya Parama looked at them curiously. ¡°Did you get in trouble with the bandits as well?¡± He turned to ask the young man beside him, who nodded in refusal. ¡°Interesting times,¡± said the priest. ¡°This is Manu, he and his wife are also new to the village.¡± Aryaman nodded his head in greeting looking at Manu who returned the gesture. New to the village? Thought Aryaman to himself, suspicion getting the better of him. ¡°Young men,¡± said the priest before Aryaman could proceed to ask any questions, ¡°the pooja is about to start, let us focus on with all our hearts and minds in sync and continue the chit-chat after it¡¯s done.¡±
Archakamuni - respectful honorific to address the priest, literal translation ¡°priest-sage¡± Chapter 47: The Lifeblood of Gods In the stone-carved temple courtyard, on a raised podium Acharya Parama prepared for the ritual. He arranged the offerings with meticulous care on a wooden platform beside the consecrated fire pit. Ghee, grains, fragrant herbs, and sandalwood pieces were neatly placed in brass vessels, glinting softly in the morning light. Surrounding the fire pit, an array of vibrant flowers and fresh mango leaves adorned the altar. The priest¡¯s deep, resonant voice began to chant ancient Vedic mantras as he lit the fire, the air crackled with the sound of kindling wood. Inside the sanctum sanatorium of the temple, where the local deity had already been cleansed with milk in a ritual bath and adorned with silks and jewellery. Her forehead had the vermillion and her neck had the sandalwood and turmeric paste smeared on it, signifying the ritual purity and sanctification. Anasuya had applied it the same to Svetavastra herself as was the practice for all devotees to be purified themselves. Behind the idol of the local deity, Svetavastra sat cross-legged and joined her hands together in prayer. She didn¡¯t know how Manu convinced the priest who let her do her prayers inside the sacred and highly restricted area of the sanctum. She was only grateful and put her heart into aligning herself with the sacred chants the priest''s resonant voice invoked from outside. This ritual was being performed mainly for protection against evil forces. As the priest invoked the mantras the spiritual energies of the devotees who have purified their mind and body started to flow into the idol of the local deity in an invisible flow of energy. The local deity started to have a translucent shimmer with this influx of spiritual energy. Prince Aryaman who was seated among the devotees with Sanjaya by his side, happened to catch the instance of a glimmer of the idol. His eyes were transfixed as he recalled the water fairy wearing the same saree as the local deity. Was it the local deity that I saw in the lotus pond? the prince wondered. Manu who was also spread among the devotees was praying with his eyes closed looking serene and stoic. Inside the sanctum, Svetavastra could feel the influx of spiritual energy near her. She focused on her prayers when she heard the voice of the local deity. Greetings ancient one! said the voice, feminine, authoritative, and reverberant. Thank you for letting me pray here in your vicinity, deity of the place, said Svetavastra conversing with the local deity in her mind. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. No matter, said the voice. I hardly get any special visitors. Interesting to see one of you. One of me? asked Svetavastra puzzled. Yes, one of you, repeated the local deity. You are an ancient god. Or rather were an ancient god. Your core is missing, you are but an empty shell that once must have housed supreme cosmic power. I see, said Svetavastrea. Hmm¡­I¡¯m here to request you to lend me some of your powers. The voice chuckled. The mighty do fall! she said. No matter, I do not sense any arrogance or greed in you. But you must know that your cosmic powers and mine are fundamentally different. Different how? asked Svetavastra. Outside, the priest reached for the grains and herbs, each handful offered with a specific mantra, invoking blessings from different deities. Smoke curled upward, carrying the prayers to the heavens. Your ancient powers are bestowed by the cosmos to you, said the local deity. They are independent of external sources. They reside within you. Mine come from my devotees. Let me tell you how I came to be. Long ago, on a night bathed in moonlight, a celestial lotus bloomed in a serene pond you now find outside this temple. From within this sacred flower, I emerged, born of divine energy. The villagers welcomed me with reverence. They called me their guardian, and I grew up among them, blessing their crops and healing the sick. Due to my connection to nature, the village thrived, under my care. A demon Virochana descended upon the village, spreading darkness and despair. I confronted him. The battle was fierce and prolonged. Drawing upon the celestial energy of the lotus from which I was born, I trapped Virochana in the depths of the lotus pond. In doing so, I sacrificed my physical form as well as my celestial energy. Grateful for my efforts, the villagers built a shrine by the pond in my honour. Over time, this shrine grew into the temple where I am worshipped today. My spirit resides within this idol kept alive by their unwavering faith in me. I have the powers as long as they have faith in me. This collective faith is the lifeblood of current gods. That power binds the gods to the people and their well-being. Without their devotion, I am but a sculpted stone. Beautifully sculpted one, I might add. But a stone nonetheless. I see, said Svetavastra. The priest added the last of the offerings¡ªa mixture of fragrant sandalwood and flowers. The flames, red and orange, seemed to respond, reaching higher and higher. With a final, resonant chant, the priest completed the ritual, offering a concluding prayer for peace, prosperity, and protection for all. Since the power comes to you from the devotion and goodness of these people, said the local deity, you are bound by the thread of fate to protect them through time. If I give you access to my powers, you are bound to that destiny, said the local deity with solemnity in her voice. Do you accept it? Chapter 48: The Offering of Divine Grace The temple courtyard, decked with marigolds, lotuses, and hibiscus blossoms, their petals now soft and muted in the afternoon light, buzzed with the soft hum of devotees'' voices. The air was rich with the mingling scents of incense and freshly prepared payasam a creamy concoction of rice, milk, jaggery, and a hint of cardamom, emanated a sweet, heady aroma that was brought out to be distributed as prasadam, signalling that the ritual was over. The priest, his face serene and hands steady, ladled the sacred rice payasam into bowls made of dried leaves. The golden raisins and cashews that adorned the sweet dish added a festive touch, their rich fragrance tantalising the senses of all the devotees that had fasted since daybreak. Children, their eyes wide with excitement, eagerly received their portions. The first taste brought delighted smiles to their faces, the sweetness of the payasam spreading warmth through their small bodies. They savoured each spoonful, licking the leaf plates clean before shyly returning for more, their eyes pleading for another serving. Elders, too, enjoyed the payasam with quiet appreciation, nodding in gratitude as they relished the rich, comforting flavours. Among the devotees, Prince Aryaman and Sanjaya also partook in the prasadam. Aryaman accepted his portion with a respectful bow. As he tasted the payasam, a smile of genuine pleasure spread across his face. The sweetness and warmth of the dish seemed to dissolve the tensions of the day, leaving him with a sense of peace. Sanjaya, standing beside him, eagerly followed suit. His eyes lit up as he savoured the rich flavours, and he quickly finished his portion. With a playful grin, he nudged Aryaman, signalling his intent to go for a second serving. Aryaman chuckled, watching his friend''s enthusiasm, and joined him in the line once more, both men blending seamlessly with the joyful throng of devotees. Inside the sanctum sanctorum, the gentle flicker of oil lamps cast shifting shadows on the stone walls, bringing the intricate carvings to life. Compared to the humdrum of the courtyard outside, the sanctum was a haven of stillness. Svetavastra sat cross-legged on the cool floor, her silhouette barely discernible in the soft, golden glow. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and steady. The carvings on the walls seemed to shift and change in the flickering light, ancient stories playing out in silent, sacred pantomime. They told tales of gods and demons, of battles fought and won, of duties accepted and fulfilled. In this sacred space, Svetavastra felt the weight of her own story, the path she was on, the choices she had yet to make. "If I give you access to my powers, you are bound to protect these people through time," the local deity had said earlier. "Do you accept it?" The question lingered in the air, the sanctum seeming to hold its breath, waiting for Svetavastra¡¯s decision. It should have been an easy choice to make. She was in dire need of cosmic powers that could assist her in fighting the darkness unleashed upon this world. Stolen novel; please report. The memory of the villagers¡¯ joyful faces, their unwavering belief in the ritual, lingered in her mind like the fading notes of a song. She had seen their hopes, felt the warmth of their faith in the surging spiritual energy of the temple. Their faith is a living thing, she realised, a resilient thread that binds us all. Am I not already bound by this responsibility? Why do I hesitate? she wondered, her thoughts swirling like the smoke from the incense. The power would make me stronger, and more capable of protecting these people. Yet, the cost... the cost feels too high. What am I afraid of? Is it the power itself, or the immense expectations that come with it? The image of herself, bound by invisible strings, flashed in her mind. Each string a prayer, a wish, pulling her in different directions. She saw herself dancing to the whims of countless unseen hands, her autonomy slipping away with each gentle tug. The thought made her shudder. I can''t become a puppet, she thought to herself. I can''t lose what makes me... free. Her mind drifted to the faces of the villagers, innocent and full of trust. They looked at the local deity with hope and belief. But what would happen when their desires turned selfish? When the purity of their faith becomes tainted by human flaws? Would I be forced to grant every wish? she pondered. Even those born from greed or envy? Her moral compass, always pointing towards the greater good, felt fragile in the face of such potential manipulation. My duty is to protect, to shield the world from evil, she thought, But if I become bound to their every whim, would I still be able to fulfil my duty? You fear becoming a puppet, losing yourself to the whims of others, her inner voice reasoned. But what if accepting this power allows you to set boundaries, to decide how best to fulfill your duty? The power does not have to control you; you can control the power. Her heart pounded with the revelation. The chains she feared were not new¡ªthey were part of her, forged from the same essence that made her who she was. Accepting the deity¡¯s powers would not change the essence of her responsibility; it would only provide her with the means to fulfill it more effectively. "You are not a vessel for their every desire," the local deity spoke affirming Svetavastra¡¯s self-revelation. "You are a protector, a guardian. You can use this power to shield them from true threats, to guide them towards the greater good, without succumbing to their selfish whims." Is this what it means to be a god? Svetavastra thought. To wield power with wisdom and restraint, to use it as a tool for protection and guidance, not for subservience. She opened her eyes, looking around the sanctum, seeing the dancing shadows and feeling the weight of the ages upon her. The gods depicted on the walls had faced their own challenges, their own moments of doubt and fear. They had accepted their roles, not out of a desire for power, but out of a sense of duty, a commitment to the balance of the world. Svetavastra took a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity wash over her. The fear of being bound by obligation was overshadowed by the understanding that she was already committed to protecting the people. The power offered by the deity is a tool, a means to an end, not a shackle. It would only be a shackle if I let it corrupt me and if I am dependent on it for selfish reasons. It was her own heart, her own sense of duty, that bound her to this path. This wouldn¡¯t be an external imposition. The flickering flames of the oil lamps reflected in her determined and clear gaze as she said, ¡°I accept.¡±
prasadam - food that is first offered to a deity and then distributed to devotees blessed with the deity¡¯s divine grace Chapter 49: So It Shall Be The air hung heavy with incense, curling in languid spirals that wove through the temple''s sacred space. Acharya Parama moved with practiced grace, his robes trailing behind him, still fragrant from the sacred rituals. He handed out the last of the prasadam, his voice a gentle murmur as he offered blessings to the devotees. Anasuya stood beside him, her sari rustling softly as she shifted her weight. She leaned in close to Parama, their hushed conversation filled with the kind of intimacy that spoke of years spent together, weathering countless rituals and ceremonies. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the intricate patterns on the edge of her sari as she waited for her husband to finish his work. Aryaman, regal in his bearing yet humbled by the solemnity of the temple, walked with purposeful strides toward the priest. His cloak swayed with each step, His eyes, usually clear and focused, now held a flicker of urgency. Just as he reached Acharya Parama, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned, his gaze drawn to the sanctum sanctorum. Emerging from the shadows was a figure of ethereal beauty¡ªthe water fairy from the lotus pond. Her white silk saree with its red border shimmered in the dim light, each step she took graceful and fluid as if she glided on air. Aryaman''s breath caught in his throat as he beheld the water fairy. Her presence seemed to command the very elements around her, an ethereal aura enveloping her form. Memories of childhood stories whispered by his nursemaid came rushing back¡ªtales of spirits and deities that protected the natural world. He felt a strange connection, as if her gaze pierced through his very soul, revealing secrets he had yet to uncover. The shimmering hues of her saree, the delicate grace of her movements, and the serene yet enigmatic expression on her face captivated him. It was as though time itself had paused to honor her presence. "Arya!" a voice broke through his trance. Aryaman felt a firm hand on his shoulder, the familiar grip of his trusted advisor. "We must speak with the priest about the fallen city," Sanjaya urged, his tone insistent. Aryaman turned to Acharya Parama, who now looked at him with calm, expectant eyes. The weight of his duty reasserted itself. With a final, longing glance towards the retreating figure of the fairy, Aryaman squared his shoulders and addressed the priest. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. "Acharya Parama, we need your counsel. The border city has fallen, have there been any unusual occurrences over the past few days?" Aryaman''s voice trembled slightly, betraying the weight of his emotions. He recalled his last visit to the border city, a vibrant place bustling with life and laughter. The marketplace where merchants traded goods from distant lands, the schools where children learned under the shade of ancient trees, and the temple bells that rang out prayers for prosperity¡ªall were now silenced. The thought of those familiar faces, now lost to the chaos, filled him with a deep, aching sorrow. Parama''s serene expression darkened, the gravity of Aryaman''s words sinking in. Beside him, Anasuya whispered a prayer, her fingers tightening around the edge of her sari. The priest hesitated, his eyes darting to Anasuya for a moment. He felt the weight of Aryaman''s plea, the prince''s earnestness piercing through his own fears. "There have been... unusual occurrences, my friend. But I do not know much." Acharya Parama''s mind raced, recalling the ancient texts and oral traditions passed down through generations. The green light had always been a harbinger of turmoil. He remembered the stories his grandfather had told him, of a time when the world was engulfed in a war between gods and demons, the sky painted with the ominous glow of the green light. It was a symbol of impending chaos, a warning that history might be on the verge of repeating itself. Aryaman stepped closer, his voice laden with emotion. "Acharya, I need to know what happened. When I walked into that city, it was an empty shell. Lives destroyed, homes abandoned. Please, tell me what you can." The emotion in Aryaman''s voice seemed to move Parama. The priest sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "All I know is this: a green light shone continuously over the city for several days. Then, one day, it vanished." "A green light?" Aryaman asked, puzzled. "Why is that significant?" Parama''s eyes grew distant, as if recalling a story from long ago. "Many centuries back, a similar light was seen. It was before the Great War, a time when gods and demons fought relentlessly for many decades. That light was considered a bad omen, a herald of chaos and destruction." Aryaman''s face hardened. "Then we must be prepared. Whatever this omen signifies, we cannot allow history to repeat itself." Parama nodded solemnly. "If you seek more answers, I suggest you visit the palace archives in Arang. There, you might find records from the time of the Great War that could shed light on this mysterious green light." ¡°How do you know I would find information at the palace archives, Acharya?¡± asked Aryaman. ¡°My cousin works there, Arya,¡± said the priest. ¡°His name is Gopala. You can consult him, take my name. He will surely help you.¡± Aryaman bowed to him saying many thanks and touched the priest¡¯s feet seeking blessings. ¡°Tathastu.¡±
Tathastu - Blessing meaning ¡°So it shall be.¡± Chapter 50: The Cosmic Form of Svetavastra As she emerged from the inner sanctum, Svetavastra''s senses heightened, attuned to the energies around her. The gentle hum of the courtyard buzzed in her ears, mingling with the faint scent of incense that still clung to her robes. Her gaze swept across the temple grounds, searching for Manu, when she noticed Aryaman standing in conversation with Acharya Parama. The prince''s regal bearing was unmistakable, his presence commanding attention even in the sacred space. She instinctively drew herself into the shadows, her movements still graceful but deliberate. The last thing she wanted was to draw Aryaman''s attention to herself in this form. Unnecessary complications would arise. She watched him closely, noting the flicker of urgency in his eyes as he spoke to the priest. She put two and two together and figured out that the prince must have come to the village to investigate the border city. Good that you are investigating this, Aryaman, Svetavastra thought to herself. I can let him know about the corrupt ley lines and take him there for practice against the undead. As she lingered in the shadows forming her next steps, her eyes drifted to Manu. He stood at the edge of the courtyard, his handsome face full of stoic concern. Svetavastra felt a familiar flutter in her chest, the unspoken tension that seemed to simmer between them of its own accord. She couldn''t afford to let these emotions cloud her judgment. Manu was her trusted ally, and they needed to act swiftly and decisively. Taking a deep breath, Svetavastra gave a final look at Aryaman who was now fully engaged in conversation with the priest. She moved towards Manu, her steps silent and graceful like a cat. "Manu," she said as she reached near him. "We need to talk." Manu turned to her, his dark eyes widening briefly, a spark of surprise flitting across their depths before settling into a look of understanding. He didn''t question her urgency, didn''t ask for explanations. He simply fell into step beside her, their movements synchronized by an unspoken bond. They slipped into the hidden grove, the entrance veiled by cascading vines and thick foliage. The world outside seemed to fall away, replaced by the serene whisper of the wind through the leaves and the gentle rustle of unseen creatures. The grove was a sanctuary, a cocoon of green where the air felt cooler, and crisper, and every breath seemed to steady her racing thoughts. Svetavastra paused, taking a moment to center herself. She could feel the cosmic energy still humming within her, a reminder of the immense power now at her disposal. But it was Manu''s presence that grounded her, his calm demeanour a counterbalance to the storm of emotions swirling inside her. He stood a few steps away, watching her with a quiet intensity. There was something reassuring in his gaze, something that spoke of trust and something else¡­could it be interest in her? The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows across his face, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the soft curve of his lips. ¡°How do you feel?¡± Manu said stepping closer to her. Svetavastra took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the grove and the solidity of Manu''s presence wash over her. She felt her resolve harden, her focus sharpen. There was no room for hesitation, no time for doubt. She turned to Manu, ready to share her plan, to entrust him with the weight of their shared mission. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "Good!" Svetavastra exclaimed, a grin lighting up her face. "I feel renewed! The surge of cosmic power is quite intoxicating!" Manu''s lips curled into a slow, warm smile, the kind that seemed crafted just for her. It was a smile that reached his eyes, creating a spark of something unspoken between them. "Great," he replied softly. Svetavastra''s heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by the intimacy of that smile, a moment shared in a world only they seemed to inhabit. ¡°I have a plan,¡± she began, composing herself and steadied her voice, ¡°with these cosmic powers, my capabilities have increase manyfold. I can fly, I can traverse great distances swiftly, I can use cosmic powers against the undead.¡± ¡°But?¡± said Manu sensing a but oncoming. ¡°While I no longer need spiritual powers to fight the undead,¡± continued Svetavastra. ¡°They can come in handy - I can split myself into two forms - one with the cosmic powers - she can go with you and find the cosmic weapons. I can stay in behind and guide Prince Aryaman to fight the undead.¡± ¡°You are basically creating a puppet of yourself,¡± said Manu. ¡°The cosmic form is merely a puppet. The true form is you with your spiritual powers.¡± ¡°Naturally,¡± said Svetavastra. Manu sighed. He didn¡¯t know how he felt about escorting a puppet to retrieve the cosmic weapons. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about the form,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°She would have my true form, that would make her identical to me in every aspect.¡± ¡°Except that it won¡¯t be you,¡± said Manu immediately. ¡°It¡¯s still me,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Besides, that¡¯s the best solution at this point, I still need to teach Prince Aryaman how to use his cosmic powers and his cosmic sword.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Manu somewhat put off by this new plan. "Are you sure this is wise?" he asked, his concern evident. "Splitting yourself might weaken you." "It will, if I don''t merge the two forms from time to time, especially on the night of the full moon," Svetavastra admitted. "The full moon is when the cosmic energies are at their peak, and I can recharge and stabilise my essence. If I don''t do this, I risk weakening both forms." "It''s a risk I have to take," she said softly looking at him. "Alright," he said nodding, his voice firm. "What do we need to do?" Svetavastra stepped back, the tension in her muscles releasing as she closed her eyes. The air around them began to change, a subtle hum that grew louder, vibrating with unseen energy. The leaves of the trees rustled from an unseen wind. Manu watched, his breath caught in his throat, as a soft glow began to emanate from Svetavastra. It started at her feet, a faint light that shimmered and danced up her form, wrapping her in an ethereal, heavenly radiance. Svetavastra took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they were no longer just her eyes; they were portals of intense inner light, glowing with the power that now coursed through her veins. "Stand back," she instructed, her voice resonating with authority. Manu obeyed, stepping aside. Svetavastra raised her hands, palms facing each other, and began to chant in an ancient tongue, her voice steady and powerful. "By the power bestowed upon me, I call forth the division of my essence," she intoned. Her words seemed to hang in the air, vibrating with a timeless resonance. "Let the cosmic energy within me take form." A brilliant light exploded from her, so intense that Manu had to shield his eyes. He could feel the raw power radiating from Svetavastra, an energy so pure and potent it seemed to shake the ground beneath them. The earth trembled. The light reached a crescendo, a blinding white that swallowed everything in its path. When it finally subsided, Manu blinked against the afterglow, his vision slowly adjusting. Before him stood two distinct figures, identical yet different. One Svetavastra glowed with a living aura of cosmic energy, the light crackling around her like tiny bolts of lightning. Her presence was almost electric, a constant hum of power. The other Svetavastra exuded a calm and steady presence, her feet firmly planted on the ground, radiating a serene strength. Chapter 51: The Cosmic Form of Svetavastra - II This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Chapter 52: A New Resolve Takes Shape Svetavastra returned to her white robes. She bid farewell to Manu, her fingers lingering in the air as if to hold onto the warmth of his presence. She slowly trekked her way back to the top along the waterfall. As she climbed, the cool mist from the waterfall clung to her robes, tiny droplets shimmering like diamonds in the dimming light of the setting sun. Reaching the top, she paused, breathing deeply, the air crisp and alive with the scent of wet earth and foliage. The sun was setting, casting a warm, diffuse light over the landscape. From her vantage point, Svetavastra could see Manu and her cosmic counterpart as they exchanged farewells with Acharya Parama and Anasuya. Aryaman and his aide, mounted on horses, were making their way out of the village, their silhouettes stark against the pinkish-golden sky. She lowered herself to the ground, the grass was cool and damp beneath her. She wanted to savour the stillness and peace of this moment, just by herself, away from the worries of the world for a brief moment. So many things have happened to her in the past few weeks and the outburst the cosmic form had about reacting to things kept ringing repeatedly in her ears. ¡°It is true,¡± she said to herself. ¡°Of late, it seems I only manage to react to whatever is happening. It feels so chaotic and out of control. I have been making reckless decisions one after the other. Somehow I feel this is not my usual state of being.¡± She passed her hand over the grass beside her, trying to ground herself to her surroundings. ¡°What is my usual state of being?¡± she asked herself out loud, the words hanging in the air, unanswered. She closed her eyes as if to find the answers in her mind. Images flickered in her mind, disjointed and fleeting. She saw herself on ancient battlefields, the clang of divine weapons and the roars of rakshasas echoing in her ears. She felt the weight of her divine sword, the rush of adrenaline as she battled her way across the army of the netherworld. Yet, amidst these violent flashes, there were moments of calm. She saw herself in deep meditation, her face serene and untroubled, bathed in a soft, divine light. She opened her eyes, the vivid images fading into the evening light. The sun was almost set, casting long shadows and a gentle, golden hue over everything. ¡°Who was I?¡± Svetavastra murmured, her voice barely louder than the whispering wind. Her past was a tangle of vague flashes, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Once, she felt she had been powerful, a god whose very presence commanded the elements. Now, she felt like a shadow of that being, dependent on borrowed strength and the fleeting grace of the local deity''s cosmic powers. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Does it matter now?¡± She found herself countering. ¡°What matters is ridding the world of those evil infestations.¡± She brought forth the pretabandana, the preta capturing urn from her inner self. The urn floated in her palm with a soft glow. Her eyes, deep and reflective, caught the light from the glow. She felt she had only been focused on attacking the glaring symptoms and had no clue about the root cause of it all. Without eliminating the underlying cause of it, no matter how many rogue pretas she captured, there would be hundreds and thousands more. She couldn¡¯t keep fighting this way, chasing shadows while the real enemy remained hidden. The darkness would keep seeping back, unbidden and unending. ¡°If only my spiritual powers could renew quickly,¡± she said. ¡°Every time, there¡¯s a fight with the undead, they are depleted to dangerous levels.¡± She remembered her last fight with the rogue pretas, they had come out of the ley line intersection. She could almost feel the chill of the ley line intersection again, the air crackling with an unnatural energy that made her skin prickle. She remembered the strain in her muscles, the cold sweat that trickled down her spine as she summoned the last reserves of her spiritual energy. The familiar warmth of her powers spread through her, a comforting but fleeting presence before she lost consciousness and fell into the stream. Ley lines could be corrupted, she knew that already. If the rogue pretas emerged at the intersections, she could actively search for them. ¡°Aryaman¡¯s celestial sword!¡± she blurted with a start. ¡°It can keep the rogue pretas at bay! If we can subdue the undead without using my spiritual powers and cleanse corrupted ley intersections, I can renew my spiritual powers more effectively! The prince would also learn how to channel his latent cosmic powers.¡± A smile spread across her face, she felt light as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She waved her hand and the pretabandana disappeared into her. Svetavastra rose from the ground and she brushed her hands clean. A new resolve had taken root in her. She would no longer be a mere puppet of circumstance, reacting to each crisis as it came. The recent uncanny events had provided her with enough clues to start forming conjectures. She felt the threads of these mysteries in her mind, and she was determined to follow them, to unravel the deeper truths hidden in the darkness. Her eyes hardened with determination as she turned towards the forest. She would take the initiative, hunt the undead, and track their movements. No more passive defences; she would go on the offensive. The thought filled her with a sense of purpose she hadn¡¯t felt in weeks. The tree where the preta was trapped came into view. The spiritual barrier glowed faintly, a shimmering web of light that held the creature captive. The preta''s translucent form writhed within. Svetavastra approached, her footsteps soundless on the forest floor. The preta turned its gaze towards her. ¡°No-god God!¡± it said with excitement. ¡°Finally!¡± Chapter 53: The Palace Archives Prince Aryaman and Sanjaya rode into Arang just as the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon. The cool morning air was thick with the scent of dew-covered grass, and the chirping of early birds filled the silence of the waking city. Aryaman¡¯s heart felt heavy, burdened by the images of desolation and ruin of the border city. As they approached the palace, the familiar sight of its towering spires and majestic gates provided little comfort. The palace courtyard was bustling with the early morning activities of servants and guards. Aryaman dismounted from his horse, his muscles aching from the long ride, but he barely noticed the discomfort. His mind was consumed by the haunting memories of the border city, now reduced to ashes and echoes. "Sanjaya," Aryaman said. ¡°I¡¯ll go brief His Majesty. You can take the day off. You¡¯ll need the rest.¡± ¡°Yes, Your Highness,¡± said Sanjaya bowing and left with both the horses. Aryaman made his way through the palace corridors, the rich scent of incense and polished wood mingling with the faint aroma of morning meals being prepared in the kitchens. The usually comforting smells did little to ease Aryaman''s tension. As he entered the King¡¯s chamber, the room was bathed in the soft, golden light of the rising sun. The King sat at a large, intricately carved desk, poring over a stack of documents. He looked up as they entered, his eyes immediately locking onto Aryaman''s troubled face. "Father," Aryaman began, bowing to pay his respects. The King¡¯s concern turned to wariness as Aryaman recounted the desolation they had witnessed. He spoke of the charred remains of homes, the eerie silence that hung over the ruins, and the accounts from the nearby village. As he described the green fire that had engulfed the city, a shiver ran down his spine. ¡°It¡¯s possible it¡¯s done by yakshas,¡± said the prince. ¡°Yakshas?!¡± The king repeated, his eyes widened and alert. Aryaman nodded. ¡°The Kapala Chief had escaped during the Battle of the Northern Mines,¡± said the prince. ¡°I have a foreboding feeling that this is his doing.¡± ¡°You think he is a yaksha?¡± asked the king. ¡°I have no proof, it¡¯s merely a conjecture for now,¡± said the prince. ¡°I need to look into the palace archives, they may hold some clues. A priest from the village suggested they might.¡± The King¡¯s brows furrowed and the room seemed to grow colder as they discussed. "This is a grave matter,¡± the King said, his voice grave. ¡°The implications of a rogue powerful yaksha does not bode well for the Dayita kingdom.¡± ¡°Yes, father,¡± said Prince Aryaman. The king was silent for a moment as if debating whether or not to mention something to the prince. But he finally gave in. ¡°Arya,¡± said the king, his voice gently but tired. ¡°The palace archives contain many manuscripts from ancient times, it also contains the history of the Dayita kingdom since its inception a few hundred years ago.¡± Aryaman did not immediately understand what the king was getting to. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Every kingdom has secrets, Arya,¡± said the king. ¡°And some of them are preserved in the restricted section of the palace archives. Should you need to access that wing, do remember that the past is not as rosy as you were raised to believe.¡± Aryaman nodded trying to process what secrets that kingdom withheld that made his father, the fearless and righteous king wary. The thought unsettled him, but his resolve remained firm. ¡°I understand, father,¡± he said with a serious tone.
Prince Aryaman stood at the entrance of the palace archives, a grand hall filled with ancient manuscripts, scrolls, and palm-leaf manuscripts that held the wisdom of the ages. The dim light of oil lamps flickered, casting dancing shadows across the dusty shelves. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and incense, creating an atmosphere both reverent and eerie. He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing softly in the vast, silent room. The musty scent of old parchment mixed with the faint, lingering aroma of incense enveloped him, wrapping him in the whispers of the past. "Your Highness," came a voice, soft yet clear. Aryaman turned to see Gopala, the elderly keeper of the archives, approaching him. The old man''s eyes were sharp despite his advanced age, and his movements, though slow, were deliberate. ¡°How may I be of service to you?¡± Gopala asked, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet hall. ¡°I want to know more about the history of the Dayita kingdom and all the information we have about yakshas and their powers,¡± Aryaman said. ¡°Yakshas?¡± Gopala repeated, his brows lifting in surprise. ¡°Haven¡¯t really heard anything about them in a while.¡± With a nod, Gopala turned and began to walk towards a neat row of wooden shelves that housed the manuscripts. The sound of their footsteps echoed softly. ¡°You can learn the general history of the Dayita kingdom from the manuscripts on these shelves,¡± Gopala said, pointing to a particular section lined with thick, leather-bound tomes and carefully rolled scrolls. ¡°These documents chronicle the journey from the kingdom¡¯s humble beginnings to its current glory.¡± Aryaman¡¯s eyes scanned the shelves, taking in the centuries of history preserved in the delicate scrolls and heavy volumes. He could almost hear the clanging of swords and the cries of victory, the whispers of treaties and the hum of bustling markets that these documents encapsulated. ¡°The scrolls related to yakshas are in the restricted section,¡± Gopala mentioned quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as if the very word ''yaksha'' carried a weight too great to be spoken aloud. ¡°I have permission from the King to enter it,¡± Aryaman said, showing the seal his father had given him. ¡°Let me go through these documents first.¡±
Aryaman settled at a large mahogany table, the rich grain of the wood gleaming under the soft light. He selected a thick, ancient manuscript and began to read. The pages, yellowed with age, detailed the founding of the Dayita kingdom by a young nobody who would later be known as King Dayita the Great. In the shadow of the Northern Mines, this young man had discovered veins of precious gems and metals. With courage and relentless determination, he rallied a group of followers, forming a settlement that grew into a thriving town. Over time, this town became a fortified city, and King Dayita was crowned its ruler. The manuscript detailed how the kingdom expanded, its borders pushing outward as alliances were forged and enemies vanquished. The harsh northern landscape was tamed, and the wealth from the mines funded the construction of grand palaces, temples, and schools. Trade routes were established, bringing prosperity and new knowledge. Under the reign of Aryaman¡¯s grandfather, the kingdom experienced a golden age of trade and culture. Markets buzzed with activity, filled with exotic goods from distant lands. Art and scholarship flourished, and the kingdom¡¯s influence spread far and wide. Aryaman¡¯s father, the current King, had continued this legacy. His wise rule and strategic alliances ensured peace and stability, allowing the kingdom to prosper even further. The scent of spices and the sound of merchants haggling were as much a part of the kingdom¡¯s identity as its military might and rich history. As Aryaman absorbed the chronicles of his ancestors, he felt a renewed sense of pride and responsibility. The weight of their achievements pressed upon him, mingling with his determination to uncover the truth about the yakshas. After hours of reading, Aryaman set the manuscript aside and rose, his back stiff from sitting. He turned to Gopala, who had been quietly working nearby. ¡°Gopala,¡± Aryaman said. ¡°I need to see the scrolls on the yakshas.¡± Chapter 54: The Palace Archives II The restricted section of the archives was narrow and dark, its air heavy with the scent of ancient paper and aged wood. Long rows of wooden shelves, their surfaces worn smooth by time, stood like silent sentinels guarding the secrets of centuries past. Dust blanketed the manuscripts and tomes, undisturbed for ages, lending an almost ethereal quality to the dimly lit space. Prince Aryaman, having been left alone by Gopala, the head archivist, ventured deeper into the labyrinthine passageways. His footsteps echoed softly, mingling with the faint rustle of his robes. The flickering torchlight cast wavering shadows on the walls, creating an illusion of movement in the stillness. Aryaman''s eyes scanned tomes and palm-leaf manuscripts, their titles barely discernible under layers of dust. He reached out occasionally, his fingers brushing against the worn leather covers, feeling the history embedded in their fabric. He paused, drawn inexplicably to a particular tome resting on a high shelf. It seemed to pulse with a faint, almost imperceptible glow as if echoing the remnants of a cosmic energy long dormant. Aryaman''s heart quickened as he carefully lifted the book from its resting place. The cover, though aged and cracked, bore intricate designs. As he opened the tome, a slight breeze stirred, ruffling the pages as if they remembered the touch of divine hands. Aryaman''s eyes widened as he began to read, the words - written in cosmic language he alone knew revealing the chronicles of a great war between Gods and Rakshasas, and the pivotal role played by the Yakshas. The descriptions of battles fought with ferocious intensity, the sky ablaze with otherworldly fire, came alive in his mind. Aryaman, recalling the cosmic tongue his mother had taught him, whispered an ancient incantation. The tome vibrated slightly in his hands, its pages flipping of their own accord until they settled on the section related to the yakshas. He asked the tome to reveal the truth about the green fire of the yakshas. The air around Aryaman seemed to shimmer as the tome''s magic took hold, drawing him into the scene. The skies darkened with ominous clouds as the barrier between the worlds shattered, unleashing chaos upon Bhu Loka. The gods, radiant and resplendent, descended from Swarga Loka with their cosmic power. Each deity wielded weapons imbued with celestial energy, their auras shimmering with divine brilliance. In contrast, the Rakshasas, fearsome and monstrous, rose from Patala Loka, their forms twisted by dark, demonic energy. Their eyes glowed with malevolent fire, and their roars echoed like the harbingers of doom. The ground trembled under the might of their assault, as they unleashed torrents of dark flames and streams of corrupting energy that consumed everything in their path. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The battlefield was a maelstrom of clashing powers. Agni, the god of fire, summoned infernos that danced and writhed, incinerating legions of Rakshasas. Varuna, the god of water, conjured tidal waves that crashed upon the demonic hordes, drowning their malevolent cries. But the Rakshasas were relentless, their demonic energy resisting the divine onslaught. They conjured illusions to deceive and ensnare the gods, and their dark flames burned with a hunger that defied the celestial fires. Amidst this chaos, Aryaman saw the yakshas. Some stood with the gods, their forms glowing with a soft, ethereal light. Others, corrupted by dark promises, fought alongside the rakshasas. These traitorous yakshas wielded the green fire, a terrifying weapon born from the Yakshamani, a gem that contained the essence of yaksha powers. The green fire was no ordinary flame. It twisted and writhed with a malevolent will, spreading destruction and chaos wherever it touched. Aryaman could almost feel its heat, a sickly, consuming energy that gnawed at him fiercely. The yakshas wielded it with a dreadful grace, their eyes reflecting the eerie green glow. The tome showed the yakshamani, a gem glowing with a fierce, emerald light. This gem was the source of the green fire, harnessed through dark rituals and forbidden mantras. The gods, recognizing the danger, launched a desperate mission to strip the yakshas of this power. Aryaman watched as a fierce battle unfolded. The gods, led by Purandhara, the emperor of Swarga Loka, managed to wrest the yakshamani from the yakshas'' grasp. The gem''s glow faded as it was sealed away, hidden from the world to prevent its dark power from being unleashed again. The yakshamani''s removal marked a turning point in the war, but its eventual disappearance left a lingering fear of its potential return. In the chaos of the war, a group of rakshasas, driven by a desire to corrupt the human bloodlines, targeted some sects of humans. Aryaman saw visions of his ancestors fighting valiantly but ultimately falling victim to a dark curse. The rakshasas infused a strain of their demonic energy into the Dayita bloodline, a seed of corruption that threatened to bloom into chaos. The gods, realizing the gravity of this act, decreed that only a union with a celestial being could cleanse the tainted blood. Thus, Aryaman''s mother, a divine being from Swarga Loka, married into the Dayita dynasty to neutralize the rakshasa strain. As Aryaman absorbed the weight of these revelations, the room seemed to close in around him. The realization that his own blood carried a potential for darkness was unsettling, yet it also ignited a fierce resolve within him. I won¡¯t succumb to its darkness, he swore to himself. Closing the tome gently, Aryaman felt the lingering traces of cosmic energy still resonating in his fingertips. He placed the book back on the shelf. As he stepped out of the restricted section, the flickering torchlight seemed brighter, the shadows less foreboding. Chapter 55: Svetavastra Returns to Arang Why am I so conflicted? she wondered, a frown creasing her brow. She had changed forms countless times before, always with ease and without hesitation. Yet, this time was different. Why does it matter what Manu thinks? she questioned herself, the unfamiliar sensation of doubt creeping in. He knows me as Svetavastra, the woman, she thought, her heart aching with uncertainty. Will he still see me the same way in this form? Will he understand that beneath this exterior, I am still the same person? I have never hesitated like this before, she reflected, the realisation hitting her with the force of a wave. What is it about Manu that makes me feel this way? Is it entirely the effect of the chakra imbalance? Focus on the present Svetavastra, she told herself firmly. There are greater issues at hand. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Chapter 56: What Soma Cant Quell Why can''t I stop the darkness spreading in Bhu Loka? I''m the king of the gods, yet I feel so powerless. Is it my fault the barrier is sealed? Look at them, he thought, his eyes barely focusing on the dancers. So perfect, so harmonious. And here I am, drowning in soma, trying to forget how incompetent I feel. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. And what about Atisha? he thought, a pang of guilt striking him. Did I really do right by her? Was it fair to her? No, no... His paranoia crept in. She''s powerful, too powerful. She could outshine me. But I am the lord of the heavens, he asserted to himself, trying to quell the insecurity gnawing at him. I must be. Who else can bear this burden? How can I help you, my lord? She thought to herself as her fingers brushed against his as she lifted the golden chalice from his grasp, the warmth of his hand lingering on the cool metal. Chapter 57: Aryaman and the Wild Boar Demonic energy? He thought to himself. This keeps getting complex. boring. I was determined at first, but that determination didn¡¯t last long.¡± The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Chapter 58: The Army of the Rakshasas The underground cavern was silent except for a drip of water falling from the ceiling from time to time and making a small puddle on the floor. Lady Vishara coiled her serpentine tail around the crystal dais, her upper body leaning forward as she gazed into the large mirror. The flickering light from the crystals illuminated her striking features and mesmerising eyes. In the mirror, she saw the sealed portal of Dandakaranya, the glowing light of spiritual energy that held the portal sealed from both sides. Atisha, she thought, her eyes shimmered with mixed feelings part admiration and part loathing. Her tail flicked with irritation, the tip scraping against the crystal floor. Where have you gone? The mirror shifted, showing scenes of Svetavastra in his white flowy robes fighting rogue pretas in the village and in the Northern Mines. She watched as he had purified the corrupted yakshamani by channelling his spiritual energy into the yaksha she had corrupted with the darkened yakshamani. ¡°Who is this new variable?¡± She hissed, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Thwarting my plans at every chance. And to purify the Yakshamani? That should have been impossible.¡± She waved her hand at the mirror to see the rogue pretas she had released into the ley lines but once they had been released into a source of energy, they became truly rogue and were no longer under her control and she couldn¡¯t summon visions related to them. She hissed, her forked tongue danced in frustration. She considered the possibilities. "Could Atisha be behind this? Could she have sent him to thwart me in her stead? Or worse, could she have fallen? No..." The thought of Atisha''s end brought a pang of strange and acute discomfort. "If she had fallen, I would sense it. Her spirit is too strong to disappear without a trace,¡± she reasoned. Lady Vishara''s tail tightened around the platform as she weighed her options. ¡°This white-robed spiritual master must be investigated. I cannot allow him to disrupt my plans further. " Her eyes flicked back to the mirror, where Svetavastra was shown battling the pretas in the Northern Mines again. ¡°But how?¡± She thought aloud. ¡°The ley line corruption is not under my control and I cannot track when and how it will erupt.¡± She flicked her hand at the mirror, and it turned dark. The surface shimmered and transformed, revealing a vast expanse of underground tunnels that seemed to stretch endlessly into the abyss. The tunnels were dimly lit by flickering torches held by an army of rakshasas, their shadows dancing wildly on the rough, uneven walls. The torches cast a sinister glow, illuminating massive, hulking forms moving in unison. Their synchronized footfalls echoed ominously through the confined space, a steady, rhythmic drumbeat of impending doom. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Darkness twirled and swirled around the rakshasas like a living entity, clinging to their armor and seeping into every crevice. It flowed like black smoke, wrapping around them in tendrils that moved with an eerie sentience. The darkness seemed to pulsate with malevolence, amplifying the already formidable presence of the rakshasa army. Their red eyes gleamed with a ravenous hunger for human flesh, glowing like embers in the dim light, piercing through the darkness with a terrifying intensity. Their hands, muscular and clawed, brandished deadly scimitars. The blades, curved and wickedly sharp, glinted menacingly in the torchlight. Each scimitar reflected the flickering flames, creating an illusion of blood dancing on the metal. The sight of these weapons alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of any who might face them. Low, guttural growls and murmurs passed among the rakshasas, resonating through the tunnels like the ominous rumble of a distant thunderstorm. The very air seemed to vibrate with the sound, heavy with the promise of violence and death. As Lady Vishara¡¯s eyes adjusted to the relentless exodus of the rakshasa army, a formidable entity came into focus. Towering over the others, Raktabija was a colossal figure clad in dark, intricately engraved armor that absorbed the dim light, making him appear as a shadow within shadows. His presence was magnetic, drawing the eye and commanding absolute attention. The other rakshasas seemed diminutive in his presence, their fierce appearances paling in comparison to his overwhelming aura of power. Raktabija''s eyes blazed red and piercing, the eyes of a predator, unblinking and merciless. His muscular frame exuded sheer power, each movement radiating controlled strength. His long, unkempt hair flowed like a dark river down his back, swaying with his every step. He wielded a pair of wickedly curved scimitars, each blade glinting with a deadly sheen. The metal seemed almost alive, pulsating with a dark energy that mingled with the red rakshasa energy twirling around him. As he advanced, rakshasas in his path instinctively stepped back, their eyes widening in fear and awe. They bowed their heads as he passed, their bodies trembling with reverence. The deference they showed him was absolute, a testament to his unchallenged dominance and the terror he inspired even among his own kind. "Raktabija," Lady Vishara said, a smile creeping onto her lips. "In all his bloody glory! The unstoppable force! His name alone strikes fear into the hearts of gods and mortals alike!" "He must be nearing The Abyss by now," she thought, her eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "Once he reaches the portal, no one and nothing in Bhu Loka will be able to stand against him." Lady Vishara''s eyes glinted with malice as she imagined the scenes of carnage that would follow Raktabija''s arrival in Bhu Loka. Villages burned, the acrid smell of charred wood and flesh filling the air. Temples crumbled, their sacred grounds defiled by the relentless march of the rakshasa army. Screams of terror echoed through the night as Raktabija''s forces descended upon the helpless inhabitants, their weapons slicing through flesh and bone with horrifying ease. "The world will drown in darkness and fear," she said, her voice echoing in the cavern. "All will bow before the might of Patala Loka." Chapter 59: Aryaman Learns to Cleanse Dark Energy As they settled into the clearing, the vivid image of the wild boar lingered in Aryaman''s mind. Its fiery, demonic eyes haunted him, contrasting sharply with the serene forest. His thoughts churned with a mix of fear and realisation. During the encounter, Aryaman had watched Svetavastra raise his hand, a look of serene concentration on his face. The air grew still, an eerie silence enveloping them. Aryaman''s grip on his sword tightened, every muscle in his body poised to strike. But Svetavastra remained calm. A soft hum filled the air, purple spiritual energy emanating from the guru, wrapping around the boar like a gentle, yet unyielding embrace. Aryaman''s eyes widened as the boar, mid-leap, froze. The furious glow in its eyes faded, replaced by a calm, almost docile expression. The transformation was immediate. Svetavastra lowered his hand, and the boar landed softly, subdued and harmless. The moment was a revelation for Aryaman. The cosmic sword at his side suddenly felt heavier, a reminder of his struggle with his powers. Watching Svetavastra, he realized the true depth of his guru''s strength. It wasn''t just about cosmic abilities; it was about the spiritual foundation that anchored them. Noticing the shift in Aryaman¡¯s demeanour, Svetavastra spoke, hoping Aryaman would grasp the gravity of the situation. "The dark energy here is powerful, Aryaman. It''s not just affecting the animals. It can reanimate the dead and corrupt the living, turning them into demonic entities. This energy must have seeped from a tainted ley line intersection near the forest." Aryaman listened intently, understanding dawning in his eyes. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. "The darkness here isn''t just in the air," Svetavastra continued. "It stems from a deep, corrupted source. We must purify it. Meditation will help us channel our spiritual energy to cleanse this place." The prince nodded, a new resolve in his eyes. They found spots under a couple of poplar trees. Svetavastra took his place, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. Aryaman followed suit, his fingers brushing the hilt of his sword one last time before settling beside him. As he began to meditate, the translucent spirit lotus, a gift from Svetavastra, floated above his joined hands, its petals faintly shimmering. The first day was a struggle. Aryaman¡¯s thoughts darted like startled birds. He felt the weight of his impatience, the itch to act rather than sit still. But he persisted, focusing on his breath, drawing it in deeply and letting it out slowly. The forest seemed to breathe with them, the rustling leaves synchronizing with their rhythmic inhales and exhales. By the second day, the world outside began to fade. Aryaman¡¯s breaths grew steady, his mind a calm ocean rather than a stormy sky. He felt the spirit lotus''s warm glow. He could feel Svetavastra''s spiritual energy surging beside him as well. On the third day, something shifted. Aryaman''s focus sharpened. He could feel the spiritual energy building within him, a soft hum resonating in his bones. The spirit lotus responded, its petals unfurling, glowing brighter with each exhale. The energy spread from their bodies, a radiant wave of purity flowing through the forest, touching every leaf, every stone, every hidden crevice tainted by darkness. The forest responded in kind. The oppressive weight of the dark energy lifted, replaced by a serene stillness. Birds began to sing again, and shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy, illuminating the now-vibrant green moss and wildflowers. The air smelled fresher, cleaner, as if life had been restored. Svetavastra opened his eyes, his gaze immediately falling on Aryaman. The prince sat under his tree, still deep in meditation, looking serene. The spirit lotus before him was in full bloom. "Aryaman," Svetavastra whispered, though he knew the prince couldn¡¯t hear him, "you have begun to understand." Chapter 60: Training with Svetavastra My sword, I summon you to me,¡± Aryaman said in the language of the gods. daityahan asi, his sword that lay by the tree, hummed with cosmic power and rushed towards Aryaman. Once in his grip, it transformed into a glorious celestial sword, with a golden hilt and golden energy emanating from it. ¡°So now I can fight the undead?¡± asked Aryaman with a grin. ¡°You can,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You have to be careful to avoid being too near the undead though.¡± If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Why?¡± asked Aryaman curious. ¡°The undead are carriers of the dark energy,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°While dark energy is mostly effective with the dead, living beings can be corrupted too.¡± ¡°Corrupted how?¡± said Aryaman. Svetavastra was silent for a moment. ¡°Have you ever had any untoward or unkind thoughts about anybody?¡± asked Svetavastra. Aryaman felt exposed for no reason. He always had the pressure to live up to the expectations of being the perfect prince. The perfect prince was never untoward and never unkind. ¡°I did, gurudeva,¡± said Aryaman silently not particularly happy at being made to acknowledge it. ¡°Have you acted on them?¡± asked Svetavastra. ¡°Hmm,¡± said Aryaman thinking about it. ¡°No¡­not really.¡± ¡°Why?¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Because it¡¯s not a good thing?¡± said Aryaman. ¡°Yes, you have an innate moral compass that keeps you on the right path,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°Dark energy corrupts your soul and removes that moral compass,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°It feeds you with a thirst for death and destruction. And as it gains a foothold in you, it begins to control you more and more and you act as you are led by the darkness.¡± Aryaman raised his brows, trying to imagine a scenario where he went on a rampage of destruction, killing anybody and everybody on his path. He shuddered at the mere thought. ¡°How do I protect myself against it, gurudeva?¡± Aryaman asked earnestly. ¡°Keep a safe distance from the undead and any rogue pretas,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Learn how to channel your cosmic powers through your sword, it can create cosmic waves and lasers. You can use them for long-range attacks. In case you are face to face with them, be quick and precisely stab them to let the sword penetrate through them in one go and you should be good.¡± ¡°What if I am surrounded by a hordes of undead?¡± asked Aryaman. ¡°Then, get out of that situation,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You can use your sword to fly by riding on it. If ever, there are way too many of them for you to handle on your own, just escape. There¡¯s no shame in it.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°What about the rogue pretas? Is it similar to the undead?¡± ¡°You can fend them off for a while with the cosmic sword,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°But they do not possess a physical form, so you cannot really vanquish them.¡± ¡°How do we deal with them then?¡± said Aryaman. ¡°I remember you using a special artifact for it, gurudeva, at the Northern Mines.¡± ¡°Yes, the pretabanda,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°I trap the rogue pretas in it using my spiritual energy. So, if and when we encounter rogue pretas, you can herd them towards me and I will take care of the rest.¡± ¡°Sounds like a plan, gurudeva,¡± said Aryaman nodding his head. ¡°Why don¡¯t you practice using the preta simulation orb I had given you and we can gauge how a real encounter may pan out,¡± suggested Svetavastra. The prince summoned the preta simulation orb from within him and it made a shimmering translucent barrier around him. Aryaman asked it to simulate the environment of the Northern Mines where Svetavastra had earlier took care of the undead using the daityahan asi. The undead from the Northern Mines started marching towards the prince in the simulation, he tightened his grip on the sword and braced himself for the attack. Chapter 61: Training with Svetavastra II The Preta Simulation Orb cast a shimmering translucent barrier around Prince Aryaman, encasing him in an eerie, otherworldly glow. Before him, a horde of undead surged forward, their dark energy swirling around them in sinuous waves. Their eyes, fully dark and glazed, lifeless yet possessed, emitted low guttural groans that reverberated with unshakable hunger. A sense of dread gripped Aryaman, these were once his fellow comrades and foes. To see them in this unnatural state, bereft of a decent burial, made him quiver with silent anger. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his sword tightly, veins pulsing under his skin. The undead approached from all sides, closing in like a tightening noose. Aryaman''s eyes darted from side to side, scanning for the best point of attack. He adopted a balanced stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. His weight was evenly distributed, providing a stable base for the powerful movement to come. With a smooth motion, he lifted the cosmic sword above his head. As he did, he channelled his cosmic energy into the blade, causing it to glow with a brilliant, pulsating light. In a swift, decisive motion, Aryaman brought his sword down. The cosmic energy intensified, creating a shimmering wave of light that surged toward the undead, disintegrating them into dust on contact. The brilliance of the strike illuminated the grim Northern Mines, casting fleeting shadows of the obliterated undead. Aryaman¡¯s lips curled in satisfaction at the impact of the cosmic energy. Simultaneously, he felt a drain on his spiritual reserves. The respite was short-lived. Another surge of undead, now closer, marched towards him, their dark energy swirling more fiercely. With a determined frown, Aryaman lunged forward, pivoting on his heel. His blade pierced through the decaying flesh of the undead, each strike turning them to dust. He moved with calculated precision, hitting one after the other, his movements a blur of deadly efficiency. He jumped into the air, using his sword as a pivot beneath his feet to gain distance from the relentless horde. His spiritual energy depleted further, making the cosmic energy within the sword imbalanced and harder to control. Aryaman felt the strain on his body intensify, his muscles weakening, his shoulders and elbows throbbing from overuse. But there was no time to rest; the undead were unrelenting, growing in numbers and closing in. Summoning his remaining strength, Aryaman focused his energy and struck the ground with a mighty blow. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it A blinding rift of cosmic energy tore through the earth, creating a barrier that momentarily held the undead at bay. The force of the strike sent tremors up his arms, his muscles quivering from the exertion. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, his spiritual energy waning with each powerful attack, further destabilizing the cosmic power. The respite was brief. The undead, undeterred by the temporary setback, pressed forward once more. Aryaman swung his sword in wide arcs, releasing consecutive waves of energy that cut down the advancing horde. Each wave required a precise, powerful swing, the repetitive motion taxing his shoulders and wrists. He spun rapidly, the world around him blurring as he tried to maximize his reach. His legs struggled to maintain balance, his core working overtime to stabilize each movement. Despite his training and stamina, the rapid depletion of his spiritual energy made him feel physically weak, his limbs growing heavier with each strike. Desperation set in as the undead continued their relentless assault. Aryaman executed a series of spinning strikes, each rotation releasing a burst of energy that swept through the encroaching enemies. His vision swam, the edges of his sight darkening as exhaustion crept in. The spins demanded perfect coordination, his legs trembling from the effort to stay upright. His spiritual energy was nearly depleted, and his control over the cosmic power became increasingly unstable, each attack more erratic than the last. The ground seemed to shift beneath him, his knees buckling as his strength waned. With a final, desperate slash, Aryaman cut through the last of the immediate threats, the remnants of his energy attacks scattering the undead. He fell to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps, clutching his sword for support, sweat dripping from his face. Aryaman¡¯s body throbbed with pain. His shoulders and arms ached from the relentless strikes. His spirit, too, felt drained, the immense spiritual energy required to fuel his attacks leaving him dizzy and disoriented. The depletion of his spiritual energy had rendered his cosmic powers almost uncontrollable, the final attacks sapping the last of his physical strength. Aryaman knelt in the flickering half-light, his vision blurred. His vision swam again as he tried to stand, his knees buckling under his weight. He fell forward, catching himself with his hands. His sword slipped from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Darkness crept in at the edges of his sight, and he collapsed, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion. Svestavastra, watching from outside the shimmering barrier, sighed. "Much to learn," he said quietly. Chapter 62: Training with Svetavastra III If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Chapter 63: The Trail of Dark Energy As the first light of dawn touched the treetops, Aryaman began his drill for the day, he stretched his body with a few basic exercises and started the practice with his sword. The swoosh of his blade echoed in the early morning quietude. He had spent half of the previous day building his cultivation through meditating and the other half dissecting his fight in the preta simulation orb and mulling over the guidance Svetavastra had provided. He corrected his posture based on Svetavastra¡¯s suggestions and refrained from any continuous bursts of energetic movement. He pulled back his shoulders ever so slightly and his stance became more balanced. He slowed his sword movements such that each strike became more deliberate and controlled. He avoided the rapid high-energy burst from the fight in the orb. He could already feel the difference of technique and the solid grounding it provided. He grinned as he swooshed his sword into the air feeling the power of the strike. Once in a while, he glanced at the cross-legged Svetavastra deep in meditation, his eyes shining with gratitude. Sweat soon formed on his brow, trickling down his face despite the morning chill. His muscles strained and flexed with each precise movement, the rhythm of his breathing syncing with the flow of his sword. The physical exertion was intense, but Aryaman relished the challenge, pushing himself harder with each pass. As the sun ascended in the sky, the forest awoke with the soft glow of morning, revealing the dewy leaves and fresh blooms, Aryaman¡¯s drill culminated in a final, powerful swing. He stood for a moment, the weight of the sword balanced perfectly in his hand, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. His skin glistened with sweat, and his muscles ached with a satisfying fatigue. Aryaman sheathed his sword, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. Svetavastra broke his meditation shortly thereafter. ¡°Good morning Arya, that¡¯s a good sweat,¡± he said. ¡°Good morning gurudeva,¡± said Aryaman. ¡°Thank you.¡± He wondered how the blindfolded Svetavastra was able to determine how much and how well he sweat. ¡°We will start the journey towards the nearest ley line intersection,¡± said Svetavastra as he pulled out the luminous diksuchi from his self. The spiritual artifact emitted a soft glow as it levitated on Svetavastra¡¯s palm. The gemstone indicating the north direction had turned black. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Ley line intersections have a surge of spiritual energy,¡± continued Svetavastra. ¡°They would help us in improving our cultivation. But of late, they seem to be getting corrupted with dark energy. Let¡¯s start following this trail of dark energy and see where it leads.¡± ¡°Is that way the forest had the miasma and the boar got affected?¡± asked the prince. ¡°Quite possible,¡± said Svetavastra scratching his chin. The preta in Svetavastra¡¯s bracer was also awake by now. ¡°Those rogue pretas are no joke,¡± it said. ¡°I get shivers whenever I think about them.¡± Of course, only Svetavastra could hear these comments and the prince had no idea there were three of them in the conversation. ¡°If we cleanse the ley lines would it stop them from getting corrupted again?¡± Aryaman asked, curious. ¡°Good question, Arya,¡± said Svetavastra and he waved his hand and his purple spiritual powers formed a globe showing latitudes and longitudes and certain nodes that flickered with energy - these intersection nodes were few in number and dispersed across. ¡°You see these flickering intersections?¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°These are the energy ley line intersections. Most of them are usually near a portal to Patala Loka, the underworld.¡± Aryaman looked at the globe with in wonder. ¡°Seven portals to the underworld exist,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Scattered across the world.¡± Aryaman tried to absorb this information as his eyes reflected the spiritual globe. ¡°I believe the root cause for the spread of darkness is the weakening of the barriers of these portals,¡± continued Svetavastra. ¡°Ohh,¡± said Aryaman and he was silent for a moment. ¡°So, unless we seal the barrier themselves, cleansing the ley line intersections would be a temporary measure,¡± he said. ¡°Precisely,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°One of these portals is sealed.¡± Svetavastra pointed to an area near Dayita kingdom. ¡°I didn¡¯t know we had a portal near Arang!¡± said the prince. ¡°Oh wait! Is it in Dandakaranya? Is that way we had such an influx of the undead?!¡± Svetavastra nodded in the affirmative. ¡°But gurudeva, how do we know that the portal is sealed?¡± Aryaman asked. ¡°Because I sealed it,¡± Svetavastra said simply. During his stints of deep mediation, he had been able to recover some of his past memories including the sealing of the portal. ¡°It must have been difficult, right gurudeva?¡± said Aryaman. ¡°Indeed,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°It cost me my entire spiritual base. And I¡¯m yet to recover.¡± Aryaman felt a shiver run through his spine. If it proved so difficult for Svetavastra to seal just one barrier, what chance did they have realistically to stop the darkness? ¡°Does that scare you?¡± said Svetavastra reading Aryaman¡¯s expression from his mind¡¯s eye. ¡°Ahh,¡­no¡­,¡± stammered the prince. ¡°Well, I¡¯m a little concerned, would we be really able to stop the dark energy?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Svetavastra simply without any hesitation. ¡°How can you be so sure, gurudeva?¡± asked Aryaman. ¡°Because, this time,¡± said Svetavastra with a short smile. ¡°I¡¯m not alone.¡± Chapter 64: Lord Purandhara Has a Fitful Sleep Lady Sachi looked at her husband with concern. It took her a while to cajole the heavenly emperor to rest. Lord Purandhara tossed and turned on his grand, opulent bed in the celestial palace, the plush silks and velvets could not provide him any comfort. His brow furrowed, and his breath came in ragged gasps. The ethereal light of Swarga Loka bathed the room in a constant, soothing glow, yet it did little to ease his restlessness. In the dark recesses of his mind, memories forgone surfaced like a giant wave upending the calm ocean of his mind. This was the time of the Great Drought, the one caused by the serpent dragon, Vritra who had held all the waters of the world as hostage. Bhu-loka, once lush and verdant, became a barren wasteland. Cracked earth stretched endlessly, fissures snaking across the desolate plains. The parched ground shimmered under the relentless sun, waves of heat distorting the horizon. Rivers that once flowed with life were now desiccated scars, their beds littered with the bones of dead fish. Villages lay abandoned, their wells dry and crumbling, the fields barren and dust-blown. The cries of the suffering echoed through the emptiness like a haunting chorus of despair that pierced the helpless silence of the gods. Purandhara¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he floated above the desolation. He found himself standing on a battlefield, the sky darkened by the shadow of the serpent dragon, the latter rose from the depths of the earth, his colossal shadow eclipsing the sky. The enormous body of the serpent dragon towered above him, blocking out the light. Vritra¡¯s immense, sinuous body is coiled and uncoiled, stretching across the horizon like a dark river. Scales the colour of midnight glistened with an eerie, oily sheen, reflecting the sparse light in the darkened landscape. His eyes, twin orbs of blazing fire, radiated an intense, underworld menace. Each breath he took released plumes of dark smoke that coiled upwards, tainting the sky with their darkness. ¡°You are powerless, Purandhara,¡± Vritra taunted, his voice a deep, resonant growl, that filled the air. ¡°Your people suffer, and you can do nothing to save them.¡± Purandhara¡¯s grip tightened on the Vajra, his thunderbolt weapon. He raised the vajra, his eyes narrowing. With a swift motion, he hurled the vajra towards Vritra, aiming for the serpent''s heart. But Vritra was quick, his immense body undulating as he twisted out of the weapon¡¯s path. The vajra struck the ground, sending up a shower of sparks and debris. ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got, Purandhara?¡± he mocked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that.¡± Purandhara gritted his teeth, retrieving the vajra with a swift motion. He launched himself at Vritra, aiming strike after strike at the elusive serpent. But Vritra moved with a speed that belied his massive size, dodging each attack with fluid grace. His scales shimmered darkly, reflecting the vajra¡¯s light as it missed its mark time and time again. The battlefield echoed with the sounds of their struggle¡ªthe thunderous clash of the vajra against the ground, Vritra¡¯s mocking laughter, and Purandhara¡¯s labored breathing. The air was thick with tension, the ground scarred by their battle. Purandhara could feel his strength waning, each missed strike sapping his energy and eroding his confidence. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Vritra¡¯s laughter echoed across the barren plains and sent a shiver down Lord Purandhara¡¯s spine. The serpent dragon¡¯s massive head lowered, bringing his blazing eyes level with Purandhara. The heat from Vritra¡¯s breath scorched the air, and the ground trembled with each hiss. Sweat dripped down Purandhara¡¯s temples, mingling with the dust on his skin. His muscles ached, his vision blurred, and doubt began to creep into his mind. Vritra¡¯s voice taunted him, each word a dagger to his already bruised pride. ¡°You rely on the sacrifices of others, Purandhara,¡± Vritra sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. ¡°But sacrifices will not save you now.¡± Just as despair threatened to overwhelm him, beams of radiant light pierced through the smoke that choked the battlefield. Purandhara¡¯s eyes widened in awe as four dazzling lights broke through the gloom, cutting through the darkness with a searing brilliance. From the heavens descended Atisha¡¯s divine sword, its blade a shimmering cascade of ethereal light. It sliced through the air with a high-pitched hum, positioning itself in the east. Close behind followed the divine bow, its golden arc taut with an arrow made of pure energy, taking its place in the west. Next, the divine mace appeared, a massive, glowing weapon that radiated an intense, pulsating light. It moved with purpose, hovering in the north like a vigilant guardian. Finally, the divine chakra, a spinning disk of incandescent light, circled with blinding speed, its edges shimmering with cosmic power, anchoring the south. The divine sword, bow, mace, and chakra stood in the four cardinal directions and formed a celestial web that trapped the mighty serpent dragon - their combined light so intense that it seemed to burn away the darkness itself. Vritra, found himself immobilized. Brilliant threads of light connected the four weapons, weaving an intricate, glowing net that encased Vritra. His scales, once glistening with an eerie, oily sheen, now reflected the radiant light of the cosmic weapons, creating a mesmerizing but terrifying sight. General Atisha, the goddess of War descended from the clouds, her eyes fixed on the serpent dragon as she directed her weapons to tighten their hold on Vritra. The serpent dragon roared in defiance, but the divine light held him fast, his immense body unable to break free from the celestial web of power. "Take him down now, Purandhara!" Atisha¡¯s voice rang out, clear and resolute, cutting through the din of battle. Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, Purandhara hurled the vajra with all his might. The thunderbolt soared through the air, a streak of light trailing behind it. It cut through the radiant beams of Atisha¡¯s weapons, merging with their glow for an instant before striking Vritra with a force that sent shockwaves through the entire three worlds. Vritra¡¯s eyes widened in shock, his roar turning into a deafening scream of agony as the vajra pierced his form. The serpent dragon''s body convulsed, shattering into a million fragments. ¡°You rely on the sacrifices of others¡­¡± Vritra¡¯s voice echoed, even as his form disintegrated into nothingness. Lord Purandhara awoke with a start startling Lady Sachi who had sat beside him. ¡°My Lord,¡± she said. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± brushed off the heavenly emperor as he stumbled into the celestial balcony. The cool celestial air doing little to calm his racing heart. He looked out over the timeless beauty of Swarga Loka, the golden spires and radiant gardens bathed in an eternal glow. The stars twinkled indifferently, their light cold and distant. You rely on the sacrifices of others. The voice of the mighty serpent dragon kept reverberating in his ears. You rely on the sacrifices of others. You rely on the sacrifices of others. Chapter 65: Aryaman Faces the Rogue Pretas Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Chapter 66: The Omens of Surya Dwara The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the desert sands that surrounded the village of Surya Dwara. The village, a small cluster of mud-brick homes, seemed to blend into the landscape. Life here in the desserts was simple, dictated by the rhythm of the sun, and each day in the village of Surya Dwara began with ritual prayers to Surya, the Sun God. Aarava, the goat shepherd stirred in his bed, the rough blanket pulled tightly over his head in a futile attempt to block out the sounds that signaled the start of another day. The distant hum of chanting from the shrine echoed through the village, mingling with the soft bleating of goats and the murmurs of villagers greeting the dawn. "Aarava! Get up, you lazy boy!" His mother¡¯s voice cut through the morning air, sharp and insistent. Aarava groaned and rolled over, squinting against the light that filtered through the small window of their modest home. Reluctantly, he pushed aside the blanket and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He could hear his mother bustling around the small kitchen area, preparing breakfast. The aroma of flatbread and goat¡¯s milk mingled with the scent of the desert¡ªdry and earthy, with a hint of warmth that promised another scorching day. Aarava dressed quickly, pulling on loose trousers and a faded tunic, before wrapping a turban around his head to protect himself from the sun¡¯s harsh rays. As he stepped outside, the brightness of the day greeted him, making him squint against the glare. His mother was waiting for him, a cloth sack in her hand filled with bread and milk for the day. ¡°Finally, you¡¯re up!¡± she exclaimed, handing him the sack. ¡°You¡¯ll never get anywhere in life if you keep sleeping your days away.¡± ¡°I was just resting my eyes, Ma. You know I¡¯m always up with the sun.¡± Aarava grinned sheepishly, taking the sack and slinging it over his shoulder. His mother shook her head, but there was no hiding the concern in her eyes. ¡°Just be careful today,¡± she said, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. ¡°The desert is restless.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Aarava asked, noting the unease in her voice. ¡°This morning, when I went to the well, I saw a black kite circling low.¡± She hesitated, ¡°It¡¯s an ill omen.¡± ¡°Ma, you are overthinking,¡± Aarava said. ¡°Last night, the jackals howled near the village. They never come so close unless there¡¯s a reason,¡± his mother said with insistence. ¡°Something is wrong, Aarava. I can feel it,¡± she said with a shudder. Aarava patted his mother¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Should I not go then?¡± He asked gently. ¡°And getaway from work!¡± His mother shouted. ¡°No way! I¡¯m just asking you be to be more careful. Stay vigilant and don¡¯t day dream or rest your eyes. Understood?¡± ¡°Yes, Ma!¡± said Aarava. ¡°The desert is my friend, mother, don¡¯t you worry!¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. With his staff in hand and his goats bleating softly, Aarava set out from the village, the sun climbing higher in the sky. As he walked, the village began to fade behind him, replaced by the vast, open desert. --- Far from Surya Dwara, the desert stretched on in an endless expanse of sand and rock, interrupted only by the occasional outcropping or solitary tree. In the midst of this desolation lay the Abyss of Talatala¡ªa massive sinkhole, its depths plunging into darkness so profound that even the sunlight seemed afraid to enter. From the heart of the abyss, the Raktabija Army began to emerge. The ground trembled as thousands of rakshasas, towering and fierce, marched out of the darkness in perfect unison. Their eyes glowed with a menacing red light. Clad in dark, jagged armor, their scimitars glinted in the sunlight, each one curved and deadly sharp. The abyss seemed to breathe darkness, exhaling a thick, inky mist that clung to the rakshasas as they moved. The mist flowed like a living entity, twisting and turning, spreading across the desert like an omen of doom. The land, once barren and silent, now echoed with the heavy, synchronized footfalls of the Raktabija Army, a sound that resonated through the earth like a drumbeat of war. Leading the endless rakshasa army that emerged from the abyss like a relentless tide was the demon lord, Raktabija. His armor, dark and intricately engraved, seemed to absorb the light, making him appear as a shadow within shadows. His eyes, blazing red, scanned the horizon with a hunger for conquest, for destruction. As the Raktabija Army advanced, the desert itself seemed to recoil. The sands shifted uneasily under their weight, and the wind, usually steady and predictable, began to howl with a mournful, eerie wail. The sky, once clear and blue, darkened as the mist spread, casting a premature twilight over the land. --- Aarava continued his task, leading the goats further into the desert. The sun was now a blazing orb overhead, casting harsh shadows on the ground. The goats moved slowly, searching for patches of grass in the sparse vegetation. Aarava paused to rest under the shade of a solitary acacia tree, wiping the sweat from his brow as he looked out over the desert. Something was different today. The wind had shifted, carrying with it a faint, unsettling scent¡ªsomething earthy, metallic, and wrong. The goats, usually docile at this hour, began to grow restless, their ears twitching and their bleating becoming more insistent. Aarava frowned, scanning the horizon. The sky, which should have been a clear, unbroken blue, now shimmered with a faint, dark haze far in the distance. It was so subtle that he almost missed it, a thin line where the earth met the sky, but it was there¡ªa shadow where none should be. He remembered his mother¡¯s warnings, and for the first time, he felt a twinge of fear. The desert, usually so familiar and comforting in its vastness, felt different today¡ªlike it was holding its breath, as if it had been held hostage. The dark haze on the horizon grew more pronounced, and the wind, which had carried the scent of something wrong, was now a steady, cool breeze that contrasted sharply with the usual desert heat. Aarava decided it was time to return to the village. He called to his goats, urging them to start moving back toward Surya Dwara. But as they began to trek across the dunes, the wind picked up, carrying with it the thick, dark mist that seemed to rise from the very ground. The mist was unlike anything Aarava had ever seen. It moved with an unnatural speed, rolling over the desert like a living thing, swallowing the landscape in its inky embrace. The temperature dropped rapidly, and the sun, now hidden behind a veil of darkness, cast the Aarava¡¯s world into a premature twilight. Aarava¡¯s heart raced as he tried to lead the goats back, but the mist was disorienting. It clung to him, wrapping around his body like a shroud, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. The familiar landmarks he relied on¡ªthe jagged rocks, the solitary trees¡ªdisappeared in the gloom. The goats bleated in fear, their usual sure-footedness gone as they stumbled and strayed. He pressed on, trying to keep his bearings, but the mist was relentless. Aarava¡¯s panic grew. He knew he was close to the village, but the mist had thrown off his sense of direction. Every step felt like it was taking him further away from safety, and the dark haze seemed to grow thicker with each passing moment. The desert, which had always been his ally, now seemed to conspire against him, leading him astray as the Raktabija Army continued its relentless march toward Surya Dwara. Chapter 67: The Destruction of Surya Dwara The sky, which had been a clear expanse of blue in the morning, was now tinged with an ominous twilight in a matter of hours. The dark mist that had been slowly creeping across the desert had finally reached the village¡¯s outskirts, wrapping around it and blocking the natural light. In the center of the village, the small shrine to the Sun God stood, its simple mud-brick walls adorned with offerings from the villagers¡ªflowers, grains, and small earthen lamps. Pandit Keshava, the village priest, looked up at the darkened sky with a frown. ¡°Bad omen,¡± he muttered to himself, feeling the weight of something sinister in the air. He lit the lamps inside the shrine. Villagers began to gather around as they too noticed the strange occurrence as darkness shrouded their dwellings. Among them was Aarava¡¯s mother, her face lined with worry, her eyes darting toward the horizon where the mist seemed to pulse and shift with a life of its own. ¡°What is happening, Acharya?¡± the village headman, Gramani, asked the priest, his voice barely concealing the fear that gripped him. ¡°I do not know, Gramani,¡± said the priest, trying to maintain his composure. ¡°This is unusual. Let me offer some prayers to the Sun God. Villagers, chant along with me.¡± Pandit Keshava¡¯s heart pounded as he led the prayers, his voice strong but underlined with an unspoken fear. The villagers, including Aarava¡¯s mother, chanted the prayers with him, their voices trembling as the oppressive mist thickened around them. And then, out of the darkness, they came. The first sign was the tremor beneath their feet¡ªa low, ominous rumble that grew louder with each passing moment. The sound echoed through the village, followed by the heavy, synchronized footfalls of an approaching force. The air thickened with the scent of sulfur, and the sky, already darkened by the mist, seemed to close in, pressing down on the village with a suffocating weight. The villagers¡¯ chants faltered, turning to gasps of fear as the mist parted to reveal the advancing figures of the Raktabija Army. Towering rakshasas with glowing red eyes and wicked scimitars emerged from the darkness, their presence exuding a palpable menace. Their armor, dark and jagged, reflected the dim light of the dying lamps, making them appear as shadows given form. Pandit Keshava froze, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the rakshasas descending upon the village. His mind raced, struggling to comprehend the horror unfolding before him. With a roar, the rakshasas charged, their scimitars cutting through the air with deadly precision. The villagers, who had been gathered in prayer just moments before, scattered in all directions, their screams of terror echoing through the night. The peaceful square was transformed into a scene of chaos and bloodshed, as the rakshasas unleashed their fury upon anyone in their path. Aarava¡¯s mother, caught in the chaos, tried to run, her shawl billowing behind her as she pushed through the panicked crowd. She glanced back toward the shrine, where Pandit Keshava stood frozen, and saw the rakshasas cutting down anyone in their way. Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and desperation, knowing she had to escape but not knowing where to go. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Pandit Keshava remained by the shrine, his eyes locked on the idol of Surya as the rakshasas closed in. The first blow came with a sickening crack as a scimitar shattered the shrine¡¯s outer walls. The idol, a symbol of the village¡¯s faith, toppled from its pedestal, its serene face now cracked and broken as it hit the ground. The shrine crumbled under the onslaught. The rakshasas showed no mercy, their scimitars cutting through the walls, the offerings, and finally, Pandit Keshava himself. As the priest fell, his blood staining the earth, the lamps were snuffed out one by one, their light swallowed by the darkness. The mist thickened, enveloping the entire village. Aarava¡¯s mother, amidst the chaos, found herself cornered by two rakshasas. She clutched at the pendant around her neck, a symbol of her faith, and whispered a final prayer. But there was no mercy to be found. The rakshasas descended upon her, and her scream was lost in the cacophony of destruction that engulfed Surya Dwara. --- Far out in the desert, Aarava struggled against the thick mist that had risen around him, obscuring his view and twisting the familiar landscape into a maze of shadows. His goats, usually sure-footed and calm, were skittish and frightened, their bleating growing more frantic as they sensed the encroaching danger. Aarava¡¯s heart pounded with fear and frustration. He knew he had to get back to the village, but every step he took seemed to lead him further away from home. The mist clung to him, disorienting and cold, wrapping around his body like a cloak. He heard it before he saw it¡ªthe distant sound of screams carried on the wind, faint but unmistakable. Panic seized him as he realized what those screams meant. The village was under attack. Desperation drove him forward, but the mist was relentless. Aarava¡¯s breaths came in ragged gasps as he tried to find his way back. The familiar landmarks that should have guided him home were gone, swallowed by the unnatural night. He was lost, alone in the vast desert, while his village burned, just a few hundred yards away from him. --- By the time Aarava finally stumbled back toward the edge of the village, it was too late. The dark mist had consumed everything, the air thick with the scent of blood and sulfur. The village of Surya Dwara was now nothing more than a smoldering ruin, its inhabitants slaughtered, its sacred shrine reduced to rubble. Aarava fell to his knees, his eyes wide with horror as he took in the devastation. The familiar homes, the narrow lanes, the sacred gateway¡ªall of it was gone, consumed by the wrath of the Raktabija Army. Aarava¡¯s voice cracked as he opened his mouth, the words strangled by the lump in his throat. He stumbled forward, his eyes scanning the devastation, searching desperately for any sign of life. His lips moved, but no sound came out at first, only a hoarse whisper that barely escaped his trembling lips. He took a deep breath, forcing the air into his lungs, and then he shouted into the silence¡ªcalling for his mother, over and over, his voice growing louder and more frantic with each repetition. But the only response was the eerie stillness of the night, the dark mist swallowing his cries. He called out for his mother, for anyone, but there was no answer. The silence that followed was deafening, the darkness pressing in from all sides, leaving Aarava with nothing but the echo of his own voice and the crushing weight of loss. Surya Dwara, the village that had been his whole world, was no more. And as Aarava knelt in the ashes of his home, the realization that he was the only one left alive settled over him like the final, suffocating layer of the mist.
Gramani - the village headman Chapter 68: The Preceptors Panic Svetavastra and Aryaman had fallen into a steady rhythm as they traversed the undulating landscapes beyond the kingdom of Dayita, cleansing ley line intersections with a quiet determination. Their journey was marked by long stretches of silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees or the distant call of a bird. During these travels, much of their time was spent in cultivation. Svetavastra would slip into deep meditation, his presence like a still pond, undisturbed by the world around him. Aryaman, initially uneasy with the vast stretches of silence, found himself gradually drawn into this practice. He would sit beside Svetavastra, feeling the earth solid beneath him, the breath within him slowing to match as he went into deep meditation himself. As the days passed, Aryaman discovered a growing comfort in these moments of stillness. He began to look forward to them, the quiet allowing him to tune into the subtleties of the world around him¡ªthe slight shift in the wind, the soft hum of energy beneath the ground. After each session, he felt a clarity in his thoughts, his body responding with a newfound agility, his reflexes sharp and quick like the flash of a blade. This evening, they were in a cave in a kingdom north of Dayita. The cave was dimly lit, the air thick with a chill. The flickering light from Aryaman¡¯s celestial sword cast eerie shadows on the cave walls as he moved forward, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. A low, guttural growl echoed through the cavern, sending a shiver down his spine. "There!" Svetavastra''s voice was a whisper, barely audible over the soft hum of energy that filled the space. Aryaman followed his gaze, spotting the faint, shifting shapes of the rogue pretas lurking in the shadows. With a swift, practiced motion, Aryaman raised his sword, its blade shimmering with a celestial glow. He chanted in divine tongue under his breath, and the air around him crackled with energy. The rogue pretas hissed as they sensed the impending trap. But Aryaman was faster. He swung his sword in a wide arc, the blade carving through the air, leaving a trail of light in its wake. The light coalesced into a giant sphere, trapping the pretas within its glowing confines. The creatures thrashed against the walls of the sphere, their wails echoing through the cave. Aryaman''s grip on the sword tightened, sweat beading on his forehead as he concentrated, holding the cosmic sphere steady. Svetavastra extended his hand and the pretabandana floated above his open palm. He went inside the cosmic sphere and opened the spiritual artifact and at once the rogue pretas were captured and the cave fell into silence. Aryaman lowered his sword, the light from the blade fading as the energy dissipated. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Nicely done,¡± Svetavastra told Aryaman as the latter sheathed his sword. ¡°Thank you, gurudeva,¡± said Aryaman with a bow. ¡°Next time, try not to sweat so much,¡± Svetavastra said. ¡°That¡¯s too much exertion. You will be drained in no time if you continue that way.¡± ¡°But I got the job done so quickly!¡± Aryaman protested. ¡°This was a simple case with a limited number of rogue pretas in a controlled environment,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You have to be prepared for all sorts of scenarios. It¡¯s not a sprint.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a marathon,¡± finished Aryaman. ¡°I get it. I get it.¡± They stepped out of the cave into the cool evening air, the fading light of twilight casting long, soft shadows across the forest floor. Their horses stood waiting at the entrance, ears twitching at the sound of their approach. Aryaman reached out to stroke Himmat¡¯s neck, the horse nuzzling his hand in response. ¡°Did you get scared so soon?¡± Aryaman said to Himmat. The horse neighed in protest. ¡°You had company too!¡± Aryaman said in fake rebuff. The horse neighed again and threw air at him. ¡°Fine fine, I¡¯m here,¡± Aryaman cajoled Himmat. ¡°Let¡¯s camp here for the night,¡± Svetavastra said as he found a sturdy tree to meditate under. As Aryaman gathered wood to start a fire, he noticed Svetavastra¡¯s face tense, concern flashing across his features. In a swift, instinctive motion, Svetavastra summoned the luminous diksuchi, which blinked erratically, casting chaotic red and black light in all directions. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, gurudeva?¡± Aryaman asked, settling into a cross-legged posture. ¡°The spiritual compass usually points toward a concentrated source of energy,¡± Svetavastra said, his voice laced with unease. ¡°But it¡¯s glowing in all directions,¡± Aryaman observed, his own anxiety rising. ¡°Yes,¡± Svetavastra confirmed, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Is dark energy surrounding us?¡± Aryaman asked, scanning their surroundings. ¡°But nothing seems different.¡± Before Svetavastra could respond, the diksuchi glowed bright, and a small projection of the Preceptor of Heavenly Conduit appeared above it. ¡°Greetings, Svetavastra!¡± the preceptor¡¯s voice resonated through the air. ¡°Greetings,¡± Svetavastra said. ¡°Greetings, Prince Aryaman,¡± the preceptor acknowledged. ¡°Greetings, sir,¡± Aryaman replied, unsure of whom he was addressing. ¡°I bear unfortunate news,¡± the preceptor said gravely, his voice barely masking the panic beneath. ¡°Go on,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°The Abyss of Talatala has been breached,¡± the preceptor said. Aryaman looked in confusion from Svetavastra to the astral projection of the preceptor. ¡°It¡¯s one of the seven portals to the underworld,¡± explained Svetavastra. The preceptor''s voice quivered as he continued, ¡°A great demon lord has emerged. He does not march alone¡ªan unending horde of twisted, ravenous demons follows in his wake. The ground trembles beneath their feet, and the sky darkens with a miasma so thick it blots out the sun. They devour everything and everyone in their path.¡± Aryaman felt a cold dread seep into his bones as the words sank in. Svetavastra, his expression unreadable, broke the heavy silence. ¡°Who is this demon lord?¡± The preceptor¡¯s reply was almost a wail. ¡°It is Raktabija, the one who cannot be slain, not even by the gods.¡± Svetavastra responded with a contemplative ¡°Hmm,¡± but the preceptor¡¯s panic only grew. ¡°How will this world withstand such an onslaught, Svetavastra? The gods cannot descend! How will we survive this calamity?¡± Chapter 69: Of Dread and of Hope Svetavastra did something odd after the astral projection of the preceptor vanished. He began pacing, his steps uneven and restless¡ªa stark contrast to his usual serene demeanour. The trees of the forest stood as silent witnesses to his uncharacteristic behaviour, their branches creaking softly in the evening breeze as if murmuring their concern. The air felt thick with an unspoken tension, each step of his marking the earth with a restless energy that seemed to reverberate through the ground. Aryaman watched, his own heart heavy with the news they had just received¡ªnews that left even his unflappable mentor seemingly shaken. In the short time Aryaman had known Svetavastra, he had come to believe that nothing could faze his master. Svetavastra had subdued the famed General Pushya as if it were child¡¯s play, handled rogue pretas without shedding so much as a single drop of sweat, and even sealed a portal to the underworld on his own. Aryaman had truly come to believe that his master was infallible and imperturbable. Yet here he was, moving back and forth like a caged beast, his brows knitted in deep thought, his hands clasped behind his back in a tight, nervous grip. The silence between them was thick, almost tangible, as Aryaman struggled to process the terrifying reality of the demon lord Raktabija''s march. His mind spun in dizzying circles, each thought more harrowing than the last. How could they possibly stand against such a force? Every thought spiralled into the next, a whirlpool of fear and confusion that threatened to pull him under. He felt paralyzed, his usually steady heart now hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird desperate to escape. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, the usual sounds of life¡ªbirds, insects, the rustling of leaves¡ªstrangely absent, as if even nature itself had recoiled from the horror that was to come. The air grew colder, the wind whispering through the trees a sound almost like the mournful wails of the dead. Aryaman''s hands trembled slightly as he clenched them into fists, his knuckles turning white. He needed to break the silence, to ground himself in something, anything, that could offer clarity. His breath hitched in his throat, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a boulder. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught, lodged in the tightness of his chest. When his voice finally broke free, it was a fragile, wavering sound, like a leaf rustling in the wind, almost lost in the vastness of the forest around them. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°What is your assessment of the situation, Gurudeva?¡± Aryaman¡¯s words emerged as a quiet plea, his eyes searching Svetavastra¡¯s face for some semblance of hope. Svetavastra halted mid-step as if jolted back to reality by Aryaman¡¯s voice. For a moment, it seemed as though he had forgotten Aryaman was there, so absorbed was he in his thoughts. He turned to face Aryaman, the furrow in his brow easing slightly as he looked at his disciple with the blindfold. ¡°It is catastrophic,¡± Svetavastra said, his voice low and measured. ¡°Raktabija is a powerful demon lord, his very name a harbinger of destruction. His army is relentless, a tide of darkness that threatens to engulf Bhu-loka. They spread fear and chaos, devour life without consequence, raze everything in their path, and won¡¯t stop until they¡¯ve engulfed the entire Bhu-loka in darkness. If we don¡¯t stop them soon, it might be too late. There may not be anything left to save.¡± The cold grip of fear tightened around Aryaman¡¯s chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs. His mind struggled to grasp the enormity of what they faced. ¡°How can we fight such a force, Gurudeva?¡± Aryaman¡¯s voice trembled with the weight of the question. ¡°With a good strategy and by forming alliances, of course,¡± Svetavastra replied, his tone shifting to one of pragmatic resolve. ¡°We must safeguard the places not yet touched by the darkness and take on Raktabija and his army. We must send them back to the underworld where they belong.¡± Aryaman¡¯s heart flickered with a spark of hope, a fragile light in the overwhelming darkness. ¡°We can send them back? You mean to say, we stand a chance?¡± The excitement in his voice was palpable as if he only needed to hear the words that they stood a chance for his vortex of paralysing fear to dissipate instantly. He felt light as if an enormous burden had been lifted off his shoulders. ¡°Of course, we stand a chance,¡± Svetavastra said, his voice firm, brooking no doubt. ¡°But only if we act with haste and prudence.¡± Aryaman felt the heavy fog of doubt begin to lift as he heard Svetavastra¡¯s words. His master¡¯s voice filled him with strength and resolve, anchoring him amidst the storm of uncertainty. He straightened his back, the fear that had gripped him now a distant echo, replaced by a steely determination. ¡°Then, tell me what I should be doing, Gurudeva,¡± Aryaman said, his voice becoming steady and strong. ¡°I am ready.¡± A rare smile tugged at the corners of Svetavastra¡¯s lips. ¡°I want you to¡­¡± Chapter 70: The Penitence of the Five Fires Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The plans I have made with Aryaman are defensive. But to win against the demon lord, Raktabija, I need to take the offensive.¡± ¡°Is it true that he cannot be slayed by gods?¡± said the preta. ¡°Possible,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°From what I know, he did a severe penance to gain the boon that makes him invincible.¡± Chapter 71: The Gathering Darkness at Kailashan Dawn broke over Kailashan Monastery in a wash of golden light, the first rays spilling over the edge of the high cliff where the ancient sanctuary perched. The monks, robed in saffron, moved through the stone corridors with the fluid grace of their daily rituals, their chants echoing through the halls like a gentle river of sound. The scent of incense mingled with the earthy aroma of dew-soaked stone, grounding the peace that usually permeated the monastery. From the monastery¡¯s vantage point, the vast valley below stretched out in a quilt of lush greens and shimmering waters, framed by distant mountains that stood like silent guardians. The monastery¡¯s walls, hewn from the rock of the cliff, loomed as a timeless fortress, their stones weathered by centuries of wind and rain yet still standing firm against the passage of time. Vrishaketu, the head monk, found solace in the monastery''s unchanging rhythm. But as the day progressed, a growing unease gnawed at him. The air felt thick, heavy with something unspoken. The monks sensed it, moving through their tasks with an undercurrent of tension they didn¡¯t dare acknowledge. By midday, the sky began to dim. What started as a subtle shift in light soon became undeniable. The vibrant green of the valley dulled to a sickly grey, and a thick fog began to rise from the earth, creeping with a deliberate, almost predatory intent toward the monastery. Vrishaketu stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the fog¡¯s sinuous advance. The valley below, usually teeming with life, had fallen silent. Not a single bird sang, nor did any creature stir. The air grew heavier, almost suffocating, as if the fog itself was pressing down, squeezing the life from the world around them. Vrishaketu swore he could almost hear the faint, ghostly clink of armour far below in the valley, the sound of scimitars being drawn. He frowned, his gaze narrowing. The fog wasn¡¯t merely rolling in¡ªit was coiling around the base of the cliff like a predator circling its prey. The way it moved sent a chill down his spine. This was no natural phenomenon. A memory stirred within him, not his own but inherited from the head monks before him¡ªa living legacy of the monastery¡¯s past. The quiet before the storm, the air thick with dread¡ªit was as if he were reliving the stories passed down through generations, tales of a time when Kailashan had faced a threat so grave it had nearly faded into legend. He could almost hear the echoes of battles long past, the solemn chants of monks who had once stood where he now stood, confronting a demon lord that had loomed just as dark and ominous. But it wasn¡¯t just the shadow of a single being that filled these memories. It was the relentless advance of an army¡ªdemons clad in black armor, their scimitars gleaming with a wicked, unnatural light. They had marched under the banner of a demon lord whose very name struck fear into the hearts of all who heard it. These were no ordinary soldiers; they were creatures of the abyss, their eyes burning with demonic red fire. The monks had fought bravely, their spiritual energy forming a shield against the onslaught, but the sheer ferocity of the demon horde had nearly overwhelmed them. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. His thoughts were interrupted by a faint tremor beneath his feet, a vibration that traveled through the stone and into his bones. Aparajita, a young disciple, approached hesitantly, his voice trembling. ¡°Venerable One, the fog... it¡¯s not natural. Do you feel it too?¡± Vrishaketu knelt, placing his hand flat against the cold stone of the cliff. The chill seeped into his skin, creeping up his arm like ice water. The wards hummed faintly beneath his fingers, their energy pulsing through the rock, but something was off¡ªthere were places where the vibration was barely there, where the fog seemed to press hardest. He rose slowly, his face etched with concern. The fog wasn¡¯t just spreading; it was probing, searching for weaknesses. He watched as it curled around the edges of the cliff, lingering in the crevices where the wards¡¯ energy thinned. It reminded him of an old battlefield maneuver, one designed to test an enemy¡¯s defences before committing to a full assault. A cold realization settled in his chest. This wasn¡¯t random chaos¡ªit was a calculated move, the kind only a master strategist would employ. ¡°Come with me,¡± Vrishaketu said sharply, turning and striding toward the monastery¡¯s library. Aparajita followed, though his face was etched with worry. The library was a vast, echoing chamber, its walls lined with ancient scrolls and texts. But it was the mural that dominated the room, a sprawling depiction of a legendary battle from the monastery¡¯s past. As Vrishaketu approached it, a chill ran down his spine. The painted demons seemed to shift in the flickering torchlight, their scimitars gleaming more fiercely, their eyes burning with renewed malice. It was as if the battle depicted on the wall was beginning to stir, ready to spill into the present. The mural depicted a great conflict, with monks of old standing against an overwhelming force. A towering figure loomed at the center, wreathed in shadow, his eyes burning with cold, cruel fire. Around him, an army of demons, their scimitars raised high, charged toward the monks with unyielding ferocity. The black-armored soldiers were depicted with menacing precision, their twisted forms exuding an aura of death and decay, their weapons gleaming with the same wicked light that Vrishaketu had imagined in his inherited memories. The monks fought valiantly, their spiritual energy forming a barrier of light that kept the darkness at bay. As Vrishaketu studied the mural, a realization struck him. The darkness in the fog outside¡ªthis was not the same darkness depicted in the mural. The figure¡¯s shadow had been born of blood and fear, but this... this was something deeper, more insidious. A darkness that seemed to have a life of its own, that moved with a purpose beyond the malice of the figure depicted. Aparajita¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts. ¡°Venerable One, what does it mean?¡± Vrishaketu stepped closer to the mural, his fingers tracing the edge of the painted shadows. ¡°This figure is as he was before,¡± he said slowly, ¡°but the darkness and the fog outside, that is new. It¡¯s not just his power¡ªit¡¯s something else, something that¡¯s joined him, something that wasn¡¯t there in the old stories.¡± He turned to face Aparajita, his expression grim. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a repeat of the past. There¡¯s a new element at play, something we don¡¯t understand yet. And that makes him more dangerous than ever.¡± Before Aparajita could respond, a distant rumble shook the ground beneath them, a low, ominous sound that sent a shiver up Vrishaketu¡¯s spine. The tremor was slight, but enough to confirm his suspicions. ¡°An old enemy comes forth,¡± he said, his tone heavy reflecting the impending doom. ¡°One that¡¯s learned to be patient.¡± He didn¡¯t need to say the name. The fog, the silence, the deliberate, probing advance¡ªthey were all signs, clear as any written word. Raktabija, the demon lord and his demon army were here to claim the monastery once again. Chapter 72: The Cardinal Relic of the East You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Chapter 73: The Way of the Spiritual Master Scimitars overflowing with dark energy glinted in the light emitted by the translucent array protecting the monastery. The demon army had scaled the cliff and tried to wear the array down with repeated attacks. The sound of the scimitars attacking the array filled the air and it drummed in the library. Vrishaketu looked at the collapsed young man before him, and his eyes were filled with compassion. The thought of death must be terrifying, he thought. He gently bent down to pick up the young man by the shoulder. ¡°Pull yourself together, Aparajita,¡± said Vrishaketu, his voice gentle but firm, ¡°now is the time to act. Take a moment, compose yourself and gather everyone into the main hall.¡± ¡°Yes, Venerable One,¡± said Aparajita, his master¡¯s voice sobered him up and brought him back to reality. He took a deep breath and left. Vrishaketu looked at the mural one last time before leaving for the main hall. ¡ª The monk had gathered in the large main meditation hall, they occupied their respective seats as they do when they sit in their collective cultivation sessions. Vriskaketu stood to address them and Aparajita was standing by his side. ¡°Dear brothers,¡± said Vrishaketu. ¡°We have a catastrophe waiting at our doorsteps. Raktabija has returned to invade the Bhu-loka once again. His army of rakshasas are trying to enter the monastery as we speak. The spiritual array is the only barrier between us. If we pour our spiritual energies, we stand a chance to hold them for longer.¡± ¡°Raktabija!¡± uttered an old monk in shock. ¡°How is that possible? He has been defeated centuries back!¡± ¡°He has returned,¡± said Vrishaketu. The monks broke into murmurs amongst themselves. ¡°This is bad,¡± some monk said. ¡°Raktabija nearly destroyed the monastery centuries ago. It was only due to the intervention of the gods, we were saved.¡± ¡°They would come to our aid, surely,¡± some other monk said. ¡°Quiet brothers,¡± said Vrishaketu with a gentle tone. Everyone became silent at once. ¡°The gods won¡¯t be coming to save us,¡± he said. Some monks gave a collective gasp, while others remained serene. ¡°Why would the gods abandon us,¡± some asked aloud. ¡°It¡¯s not that the gods abandon us,¡± said Vrishaketu. ¡°The barrier between the worlds is sealed. They cannot descend from Swarga-loka at the moment.¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°The gods can¡¯t descend?¡± They repeated. ¡°The gods can¡¯t descend? Is that even possible?¡± ¡°How long can we hold them, Venerable One?¡± asked one of the younger monks. ¡°Hmm,¡± said Vrishaketu. ¡°A few hours at best.¡± ¡°What happens after that, Venerable One?¡± asked another monk. Vrishaketu was silent for a moment. ¡°I will be brutally honest,¡± said Vrishaketu. ¡°The demon lord and his army can overtake us once our spiritual array is breached.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the point of fighting then, Venerable One?¡± asked younger monk. ¡°Do we give up without resistance then?¡± asked Vrishaketu. ¡°If the end outcome is the same,¡± said the younger monk. ¡°Why not, Venerable One?¡± Vrishaketu looked at them with serene eyes. ¡°How many of you are of this opinion?¡± asked Vrishaketu. Some of the monks raised their hands silently. ¡°I will give you brothers a chance to think about this issue for some time,¡± said Vrishaketu. He went to the wall behind him and pressed a hidden lever that opened a secret door. ¡°This secret door leads to a long tunnel that ends at the bottom of the cliff on the other side, the demon army won¡¯t be able to reach it at least for some time, you have a chance to survive on your own. All of you, this option is before you, anyone who wants to leave may leave now, the rest whoever wishes to stay please focus your spiritual energies on reinforcing the array.¡± ¡°Make a decision quickly,¡± said Vrishaketu and he sat in cross-legged position. For a few moments, none of the monks moved but slowly a few of the younger monks and some of the older monks got up. One after the other, they bowed to Vrishaketu and left through the tunnel. ¡°Cowards,¡± muttered Aparajita under his breath. ¡°We do not judge,¡± said Vrishaketu. ¡°My apologies, Venerable One,¡± said Aparajita biting his tongue and recalling how he had reacted earlier. The sitting monks along with Vrishaketu and Aparajita began their chants and raised their right hand into a mudra that channelled their spiritual energies into the spiritual array outside. The array began to glow with the newly infused spiritual energy and grew stronger. ¡ª Raktabija, floating in the air to have a vantage point of the monastery, narrowed his eyes, looking at the reinforced spiritual array. ¡°They think this measly array is going to stop us?¡± he said. ¡°Why is it taking time, Chaaya?¡± Chaayasura, the demon of darkness, was a high-ranking general in the demon lord¡¯s army. He was an expert in manoeuvring dark energy. ¡°All of the monks are using their spiritual energy to reinforce the array,¡± Chaayasura said. ¡°While it may make the array invincible for a short while, the intensity of the reinforcement will reduce quickly, my lord. It¡¯s just a matter of short time before we take them.¡± ¡ª Inside the dark tunnel, the monks who had started walking their way towards the bottom of the cliff, lighting the way with spiritual orbs formed from their spiritual energy. ¡°Brother,¡± one monk pulled the robes of his neighbour. ¡°I feel guilty as if I¡¯ve forsaken my duty.¡± ¡°We are guilty,¡± replied the neighbour. ¡°We want to survive. It¡¯s a choice we¡¯ve made.¡± ¡ª The array surrounding the monastery began to dim under the relentless onslaught of the demon army. They scimitars attacking the array spreading the dark energy that is devouring the spiritual energy and slowly overpowering it. The monks inside the main hall kept chanting and channelling their spiritual energy into the array without any break. Some broke out in cold sweat as spiritual energy started to get sucked out of them to maintain the array. ¡ª Raktabija closely monitored from his vantage point in the sky as the dark energy began to close over the spiritual array. His eyes gleamed with a devilish glare. But just as the dark energy was about to completely take over the array, the spiritual array grew stronger once more and started to evade the dark energy. ¡ª Inside the main hall, the monks had returned from the tunnel. ¡°We understand now, Venerable One,¡± one of the monk¡¯s who returned said taking his seat. ¡°We fight because that¡¯s the duty of the spiritual master, to stand against oppressing evil force. Whether we win or lose, it is of no consequence, to fight is the only thing that matters. That is the way.¡± Chapter 74: The Lightning of Darkness Raktabija floated cross-legged in the air, the sky was darkened with the darkness they brought along. He could see his army surrounding and trying to weaken the spiritual array with their scimitars which exuded darkness. It should have been a quick job. Take over the monastery, and purge the monks. Yet, they hadn¡¯t even broken down the main barrier set up by the monks. Chaayasura was behind the demon lord, floating in the air as well. He looked from the demon lord to the army below, nervously. Anxiety built up for him. ¡°It¡¯s futile for them to resist,¡± commented Chaayasura waving his hands in the air. ¡°I don¡¯t get it, why do they bother?¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Raktabija. Raktabija closed his eyes. The clanks of the scimitars against the array filled his ears. He noticed the uneven sounds and realised the army was getting tired. They had been taking over the place after place razing, villages, towns and cities without opposition. This was their first real opposition. Raktabija sighed. He needed to train them better. ¡°Let me go down and assist them,¡± Chaayasura said and rushed towards the monastery and aimed his mace at the array. He channelled darkness to increase stress on the array. The spiritual array absorbed the attack and still stood strong. Is the Cardinal Relic still here in the monastery? He wondered. That cannot be. A slight furrow appeared on Raktabija¡¯s brows. Raktabija had patience in abundance. One did not become the commander of the demon army without hav patience in hordes. Demon were vilified across the worlds for following their baser instincts. Incapable of enlightenment and immortality. He challenged the gods. He had proved to the gods he was no less than them when he had obtained his boon of invincibility. But the Cardinal Relic still bested him. Glimpses of his past flashed across his closed eyes. He had been at this very monastery centuries earlier. Fighting a war, he was sure he would win. He had recently received his boon of invincibility at that time. His arrogance was at its peak. He slayed his way in the world of humans, leaving a long trail of blood in his wake and he had come to this monastery to assert his claim that gods cannot save the humans from him. He recollected how his scimitar had met the divine sword with a resounding clash, sparks flying in the air and a shockwave rippling outwards.The force behind the sword felt immense, like an overwhelming, god-like power. The battle raged on, each swing of his scimitar answered by a blur of the divine blade. Raktabija lunged, scimitar whistling through the air, but the wielder of the divine sword was faster. Her movements were precise, her blade a streak of light. She slipped past his defences more than once, her sword slicing into his flesh. Raktabija snarled as pain flared, blood scattering into the air in dark red droplets. They hit the ground with soft splashes, and almost immediately, new clones of Raktabija rose from each drop, armed and ready. His lips curled into a smirk. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I am invincible, he thought. His blood was his strength. But then his smirk faltered. The wielder of the divine sword did not hesitate. She multiplied, splitting into as many forms as there were clones, each wielding a blade that shone with the same divine light. Raktabija¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. The battlefield swarmed with their likenesses, divine swords clashing against scimitars in a chaotic resonance. Yet, despite the confusion, the wielder moved with precision. Her blades struck without drawing blood, each hit a calculated blow to incapacitate rather than kill. Raktabija¡¯s confusion turned to anger. He swung his scimitar wildly, trying to break free from the encirclement, but the wielder¡¯s forms closed in, pushing him and his clones toward a single point. He felt the ground beneath him shift, trembling as if alive. Light from the wielder¡¯s blades merged, converging into a bright ring around Raktabija and his clones. Raktabija glanced around, realisation dawning too late. He was being trapped, manoeuvred like a beast into a pen. The earth beneath him cracked, light spilling from the widening gaps. The ground shook violently, and Raktabija struggled to keep his footing. He looked into the eyes of the nearest wielder, seeing not just determination but an unyielding force. The light intensified, merging his clones back into him. He felt his power stretching thin. With a rumble, the earth beneath them erupted. A blinding light shot upwards, engulfing Raktabija and his clones. The force was overwhelming, pressing down on him, merging his clones into his body with a crushing weight. He could feel himself being dragged towards the center, where the ground had given way to a chasm, a temporary portal to the underworld. ¡°Nooooooo!¡± Raktabija roared with defiance. He swung his scimitar wildly, the air around him vibrating with the force of his fury. But the light held firm, pulling him toward the chasm¡¯s edge. His roar turned into a desperate bellow as he felt himself being sucked into the portal. With a final thrust of the divine sword, the wielder channelled all her light into Raktabija, pushing him over the brink. The portal swallowed him, his roar echoing into the abyss as he fell, his form shrinking until he was just a distant shadow. The portal was sealed with a thunderous crack, the ground closing with a final, resonating thud. The defeat still stung him, it was like a dull pain that never left him, reminding him that his invincibility was an illusion.But with the darkness he had gained from Lady Visha¡¯ra, his old confidence and arrogance had returned. This time, he was truly invincible. ¡ª A golden butterfly hovered near Vrishaketu. ¡°Vrishaketu,¡± said a female voice from the golden butterfly. The head monk paused his chanting and opened his eyes. ¡°Your Eminence,¡± said Vrishaketu bowing his head in reverence. ¡ª Raktabija had learnt from his mistakes. He had his scimitar reworked into a might weapon that could channelise his boon. He conjured the Life-Siphoning Scimitar. Darkness twirled around the curved blade and glinted with a crimson hue. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, the pommel shaped like a skeleton head with a cross guard of intertwined demons. He lifted his scimitar high, its curved blade cutting through the air. Darkness rippled and coiled around the weapon, then shot out like dark lightning, crackling and splitting the sky above. ¡°Soon,¡± said Raktabija with a dark glint in his eyes and maniacal laughter. ¡°We will make the entire world faithless.¡± The spiritual array shimmered for a moment, then broke apart, its glowing lines fading into nothing as the downpour of darkness rained down on it. Chapter 75: The Imposter God The secret tunnel carved into the cliffside beneath the ancient monastery was a narrow, winding passage. As the monks stepped through the doorway led by Vrishaketu, they felt the temperature drop noticeably. The air grew still and musty, filled with the scent of damp stone and decay. ¡°We have been given a divine chance to relive this life,¡± said Vrishaketu. ¡°Glory to the divine,¡± the monks spoke in unison. Most of them were relieved with the unexpected turn of events especially when they were all prepared to give up their life to fight against the darkness that had encroached them. While they were admist chanting and reinforcing the spiritual array, Vrishaketu had awoken them and asked them to follow him. They silently obeyed their master. The monks walked carefully behind the head monk. Only Aparajita remained behind to stand guard against the hidden doorway. Vrishaketu had left a spiritual orb that erected a temporary array protecting the doorway. Aparajita volunteered to aid the orb with his spiritual energy for a while. The other monks had started their downward journey. The tunnel sloped gently downwards, following the natural contours of the cliff''s interior. Its floor was uneven, with patches of moss and slick algae clinging to the stones. In some places, the walls had crumbled slightly, leaving small piles of gravel and loose rocks scattered on the ground. Every few meters, narrow, round holes punctuated the stone walls. These openings, just large enough for a hand to pass through, allowed thin beams of light to filter into the tunnel, which would cast faint, eerie patterns on the ground. Presently, the openings were dark, reflecting the darkness outside. Vrishaketu gestured with his hand and spiritual arrays formed on the openings preventing any of the darkness that was spreading outside from seeping in. The openings also provided ventilation, letting in occasional gusts of fresh air from the outside. Despite this, the air within the tunnel remained thick with moisture, and a persistent musty smell lingered, a mix of wet stone, earth, and the faint, sweet odour of mold. ¡°The monastery would be destroyed by the demon army, Venerable One,¡± said one of the monks. The monks had used their spiritual energy to create small glowing orbs that lit their way. These translucent balls of light floated in the air beside them as they walked slowly behind the head monk. ¡°The monastery is where the monks are,¡± said Vrishaketu simply. Here and there, small patches of green algae grew on the walls, thriving in the damp, dark environment. The algae glistened in the dim light, like tiny emeralds embedded in the rock, hinting at the moisture that seeped through the stone. ¡°Why are we escaping, Venerable One?¡± asked another monk. "I was enlightened by a gracious soul," said Vrishaketu. "I had only thought of fighting against the evil that is set upon us. I didn''t realise we could do more to avert this crisis by staying alive and seeking support outside of the monastery." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "Thank you my brothers," continued Vrishaketu. "You have shown courage in a very trying time. My brothers who have returned to aid us, remember that it is partly due to you all that we now survive." "Did the gods come to help us?" asked a monk cautiously. "Whoever is helping us in such a situation," commented another, "I would consider them a god." Vrishaketu smiled. "But why is the demon lord Raktabija attacking us, Venerable One?" asked another monk. "Yes, Venerable One," chimed in a few more. "We would like to know too." The tunnel wound its way down, narrowing in some places where the ceiling lowered, forcing the monks passing through to duck their heads. So, the monks stopped talking for sometime. Vrishaketu was silent for a while. His eyes seemed to still and moving at the same time as if he was reliving the memories passed down to him by his predecessors. ¡°Raktabija was born into an minor demon clan,¡± said Vrishaketu. ¡°When he was young he was mostly abused for being weak and frail. He often used to escape to Bhu-loka. And sometimes he helped out humans in need." "This continued for enough time that the local populace started a small shrine for him thinking he is a god," said Vrishaketu. "As the news of this new god spread, the gods grew curious and the demon clans grew restless. Both perceived the new god as a threat." Some monks nodded. "Then what happened, Venerable One?" asked a monk getting impatient to know further. "Raktabija however was clueless about the antagonism he had created. One day the local populace had arranged a festival in his honour. The gods descended to discredit him. The demons had come to wreck havoc against the mortals worshipping him " Some monks now held their breath. "Then what happened, Venerable One?" asked a monk who was fully immersed into the tale. "In front of his worshippers, Raktabija was revealed to be a demon. The worshippers felt cheated and lost faith in him. The gods mocked him for being an imposter. The demons reviled him for forsaking his identity." "What did he do then, Venerable One?" some monk asked. "He made a terrible vow," said Vrishaketu. "To become invincible against the gods who mocked him, the demons who looked down on him and the humans who had lost faith. A terrible vow that made him penance so severe that even the gods never dared to perform it." "What was this penance, Venerable One?" asked a monk. "It''s a penance where you are constantly exposed to fire from all four sides and the sun scorches you constantly from the top. The Penitence of the Five Fires," said Vrishaketu. "Raktabija willing withstood such harsh conditions for a thousand years," continued Vrishaketu. "His skin has burnt up by the end, the demon skin that''s usually thick and sturdy. He was in a pitiable state, reduced to a pile of bones with barely any flesh but he did not give up." "And then, Venerable One?" another monk asked. "He gained the boon that made him invincible," said the head monk, "and he unleashed his rage against the worlds, he subdued the demons and become the commander of the demon army, he constantly wrecked havoc on Bhu-loka and fought against the gods, driving them into a constant state of panic with his powers." "This monastery was one of the last strongholds left for him to conquer," said Vrishaketu. "It was also the place where centuries back his shrine was erected by the people." "When he attacked the monastery the last time, the gods sought the help of the Cardinal Relic to banish him to the underworld," continued Vrishaketu. "Now, he has gained the power of darkness and has come twice as powerful to complete his vengeance." The monks feel silent for a while thinking about the tale they just heard. Aparajita heard the tale as well using his spiritual powers while struggling to channel his spiritual energy into the orb. The orb left behind from l by Vrishaketu started to dim and flicker. This was his cue to leave. He stopped pouring his spiritual energy and took a moment to steady himself. The spiritual orb disappeared. Aparajita started walking down the tunnel. He turned back one last time before he lost sight of the hidden entrance. His eyes widened. The entrance was protected by a cosmic astral projection. It was in the form of a divine sword hovering in the air, with a golden hilt and a radiant and resplendent aura. Chapter 76: Admist Ruins of Kailashan As the Life-Siphoning Scimitar¡¯s rain of darkness wore down the shimmering array, Raktabija¡¯s lips curled into a wicked smile. The monastery marked an important step in his campaign to conquer Bhu-loka and spread darkness. It was one of the last bastions of hope in a world devoid of gods. The monastery groaned under the weight of the dark power unleashed, the roof collapsing in a roar of splintering wood and stone. His army poured into the ruins like a swarm of shadows, searching for the monks who had dared resist. Chaos reigned below as demons overturned sacred statues, gutted the sacred hallways, and revelled in the destruction. But Raktabija hovered above it all, cross-legged in the air, his eyes closed in quiet meditation, untouched by the destruction he had wrought. He listened to the sounds of his army tearing through the monastery, the scraping of scimitars against stone, the frantic searching. They should have found the monks by now, and dragged their cowering forms before him to be obliterated. His scimitar still hummed with the dark energy of the array it had consumed, but something tugged at the edges of his thoughts. Where are they? Memories of the past crept in unbidden¡ªmemories of the last time he had faced this place. The divine sword, it''s searing light, the pain, the way his clones had been torn apart one by one. His invincibility had meant nothing then, and even now, he couldn''t shake the sting of that defeat. But this time would be different. It had to be different. Raktabija exhaled, trying to bury the flicker of doubt gnawing at him. He needed control. His scimitar pulsed at his side, feeding on his restlessness. Finally, the heavy sound of footsteps approaching drew him from his thoughts. Chaayasura, his loyal general, staggered forward and dropped to his knees, trembling. "My lord," Chaayasura began, his voice quivering. "The troops... we have searched every corner of the monastery. The halls, the inner sanctum, the chambers." Raktabija¡¯s eyes snapped open, glowing with quiet fury. He remained still, his voice low and dangerous. "And?" Chaayasura bowed deeper, forehead nearly touching the ground. "It is empty, my lord. The monks are gone." For a brief moment, there was silence. Raktabija¡¯s expression darkened as he slowly descended from the air, his feet touching the rubble-strewn ground. His scimitar glinted in the dim light, casting a menacing shadow as it swayed at his side. "Gone?" The word was like venom on his tongue. His hand tightened around the hilt of the scimitar, the dark energy within it flaring. He stepped toward Chaayasura, each movement deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. Chaayasura flinched, eyes wide with terror. "W-We thought... we believed the array would be their final defence. But there is no trace of them here, my lord. We do not know how¡ª" "You thought?" Raktabija¡¯s voice was a low growl, seething with barely contained rage. His scimitar pulsed, the very air vibrating with dark energy. "You assumed victory was assured? That my patience could be tested again by your incompetence?" Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. "My lord, please¡ª" With blinding speed, Raktabija¡¯s hand shot out, gripping Chaayasura by the throat. He lifted him effortlessly into the air, holding him aloft like a rag doll. Chaayasura¡¯s breath caught in his throat, his hands clawing desperately at Raktabija¡¯s iron grip. "You disappoint me," Raktabija hissed, his red eyes narrowing as he stared into his general''s quivering face. "Perhaps the monks are more clever than I anticipated. Or perhaps... you and the demon army are simply growing weak." Chaayasura gasped, his face paling as he dangled helplessly, but before Raktabija could squeeze harder, a dark cloud began to form in the center of the hall. The air around it crackled with power, and thick black smoke swirled and condensed into the shape of a mirror, its surface as dark as obsidian. Raktabija''s grip loosened, letting Chaayasura drop to the ground in a heap. He straightened, his expression hardening as he turned to face the mirror. "Lady Visha¡¯ra," he said, bowing his head slightly as her figure emerged in the reflective surface. Her cold, piercing eyes regarded him with thinly veiled displeasure. "Raktabija," she said, her voice like silk laced with ice. "I see you¡¯ve broken the array." "The monastery is ours, my lady," Raktabija replied, his tone measured. "But the monks have... temporarily evaded capture." Visha''ra¡¯s eyes narrowed, her expression chilling. "Temporarily? You told me this would be swift. That no one would be able to stand against us.¡± Raktabija¡¯s jaw clenched. "The array was stronger than expected. It required my Life-Siphoning Scimitar to bring it down." "And yet, no monks." Her voice was cutting, her displeasure palpable even through the dark smoke of the mirror. "Tell me, Raktabija, how do you explain this failure?" A flicker of frustration crossed his features, but he kept his composure. "The monks did not escape on their own. There is something else at play. I believe the Cardinal Relic of the East may be protecting them." Lady Visha''ra¡¯s lips curled into a scowl. "The Cardinal Relic?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "Are you certain?" Raktabija nodded, his eyes darkening. "It would explain the strength of the array," He said. "Even now, I can sense nothing, no trace of cosmic energy, but relics have ways of masking their presence." Lady Visha''ra leaned closer, her expression dangerous. "If the relic is indeed involved, it could impede everything we¡¯ve worked for. The relics must not fall into Atisha¡¯s hands. They are the last thing standing between us and the spread of eternal darkness." Raktabija¡¯s hand flexed on the hilt of his scimitar, his frustration growing. "I will find it. The monks cannot hide forever. They will be flushed out, and when they are, the relic will be ours." "See that it is." Lady Visha¡¯ra¡¯s gaze pierced through him, her voice a deadly whisper. "Do not underestimate the relics, Raktabija. Or Atisha. If she reclaims even one of them, it could unravel our plans." Raktabija¡¯s eyes flared red, the thought of General Atisha infuriating him. He had waited too long, suffered too much to allow the wielder of the relic to interfere again. "I will crush her before she can make her move," he said with determination. "Do not fail me," Lady Visha¡¯ra warned, her image beginning to fade. "The darkness must spread, and the relics are the key to ensuring it. Find them at once.¡± ¡°Aye, my lady,¡± Raktabija bowed. As the mirror dissolved into smoke, Raktabija stood still for a moment, his rage simmering just below the surface. He turned to Chaayasura, who was still trembling on the ground. "Send the troops to search the cliffs and the surrounding forests," Raktabija ordered, his voice low and menacing. "Find the monks. And if you fail again, Chaayasura..." His eyes burned with cold fury. Raktabija did not have to complete his sentence, Chaayasura scrambled to his feet, nodding vigorously as he rushed off to carry out the order. Raktabija turned back to the ruined monastery, the cold wind swirling through the open roof. Chapter 77: The Anguish of a Bound God nothing while the world burns? We are gods¡ªand you tell me we can do nothing?¡± Recklessly?¡± Surya cut him off, his voice trembling with rage. He slammed his goblet onto the floor, the metal clanging loudly. ¡°We sit here while our worshippers die¡ªour worshippers, Vayu! What use are we if they are gone? What good is your balance if no one is left to remember us?¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. In time?¡± Lord Surya¡¯s eyes burned as he turned on Agni, his voice cracking, rising in intensity. ¡°In time for what? For our temples to turn to dust? For every last soul to forget we even exist?¡± Enough!¡± Lord Surya roared, his voice echoing through the hall. ¡°The barrier was meant to protect us, but it has become our prison! What good is immortality if we are forgotten?¡± What am I without them? he wondered. Without their prayers, their faith, their light... am I still the sun? Or just a fading flame in an empty sky? Time? Time is inconsequential to us but time is everything for mortals. What good is everlasting time when they don¡¯t exist? What is a god without worshippers? Without prayers to sustain him? What are we without them?¡± trapped in this prison?¡± Chapter 78: Borrowed Power, Hidden Self Svetavastra had found a deep cave within the forest to meditate. He seated himself in a cross-legged position in a raised stone nook inside the sinuous passage. The temperature was cool and stable, and it was devoid of any noise. For a normal person, such an atmosphere would be claustrophobic and induce anxiety. For Svetavastra this proved to be the perfect place to slip into deep meditation without any external triggers. The preta in the bracer was not happy with the confined space and lack of stimulation. It twisted and turned and thrashed in frustration. And reluctantly sank into meditation despite its best efforts to keep itself occupied. Is Irawati¡¯s spiritual base at odds with my spiritual core? Svetavastra wondered. That could explain why he was facing the current stalemate. Having two different spiritual cores within the same body was not common and imposed a significant cost on the shell. Svetavastra needed the spiritual powers of Irawati¡¯s base to ward off darkness and to capture rogue pretas. However, the same spiritual base due to it being foreign to the shell of Svetavastra, seemed to be actively suppressing his memories. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. A weapon of mine could help me regain some memories, he thought. I wonder if I can wield it properly with just my nascent spiritual core. Why didn¡¯t I think of Manu? He could very well be a source of information for filling the gaps in my memory. Svetavastra had earlier refused to know anything of his past from Manu in the fear that they may taint his perception but now that the times have become desperate, he was willing to learn more from Manu. Hopefully, I learn something of use from the weapon. ¡°How long before you two can reach me?¡± ghati¡¯s length of time,¡± said the butterfly. ¡°There¡¯s wind turbulence in the sky, otherwise we would be quicker.¡± Raktabija might be searching for the weapon as well. Manu. Of course. With ties to Swargaloka, Manu could be the key link to unlocking a great deal of information from the past. Why didn¡¯t I think of Manu earlier? Thought Svetavastra again. He recalled his initial reluctance to know anything from Manu. For a moment, doubt clawed at him. Was it merely to remain unbiased or did I not want to associate with Swarga-loka? Svetavastra wondered. He couldn¡¯t quite recollect the reason why he had hesitated back then. These are the hands of a man! Svetavastra thought. Manu had only ever seen Svetavastra as a woman. He felt conflicted about meeting him as a man. What would he think of me? Do I transform back into my female form or remain as is? He began pacing outside the cave, tension rising. Such was his distress that the preta, which had been meditating during the entire time the cosmic butterfly was present, stirred within its bracer from Svetavastra¡¯s movements. ¡°No-god God,¡± it murmured, its voice groggy as if it was disturbed from a deep sleep, ¡°is everything alright?¡±
ghati - length of time equivalent to 24min Chapter 79: The Imbalance of the Sacral Chakra ¡°Are you alright, No-god God?¡± The preta in the bracer asked again but Svetavastra continued his to and fro pacing in the forest without responding. I haven¡¯t seen No-god God in such distress, thought the preta. I wonder what is bothering the divinity. Has some intel regarding the darkness and demon army come out while I was meditating? It would make me a hypocrite if I changed form for one man, thought Svetavastra as he continued his walk. Why am I so affected by this small, somewhat insignificant matter all of a sudden? Svetavastra scratched his chin as he thought of possible reasons. The split with cosmic Svetavastra was not smooth, recollected Svetavastra. It¡¯s possible that I retain some residual emotions while she manifests my emotions. Could that be the only reason? Svetavastra wondered internally. Could it be a manifestation of the imbalance of the Sacral Chakra? That would explain a great deal. The Sacral Chakra was the second of the seven chakras governing a person¡¯s spiritual energy. The first was the Root Chakra, which grounded the person. When Atisha sacrificed her spiritual core to seal the portal at Dandakaranya, her chakras became volatile and imbalanced. One of the first imbalances to manifest was the imbalance in her Root Chakra which made her act recklessly repeatedly leading to her losing her spiritual powers or being on the brink of such a loss time and again. Now that the imbalance had shifted to the Sacral Chakra, this meant the Root Chakra was somewhat stabilised. The cultivation Svetavastra had done so far seemed to be showing results. But the imbalance of the Sacral Chakra would be a significant ordeal. This chakra was related to emotions and pleasure. Any imbalance to the chakra could lead to instability in emotions, and unhealthy attachments and result in volatile behaviour. I wonder if the imbalance is expressed in the cosmic form as well. Svetavastra wondered. Just then, Svetavastra heard the rustling of leaves into a vortex and shortly thereafter, cosmic Svetavastra and Manu descended from the sky in a nimbus. Cosmic Svetavastra looked radiant and beautiful in her white sari and together with Manu, who himself looked like a god of beauty and love, they were a sight to behold. What a beautiful and harmonious-looking pair, Svetavastra thought. ¡°Woahhh,¡± the preta uttered, ¡°that¡¯s you isn¡¯t it, No-god God, and the handsome young man from before. Why are there two of you?¡± ¡°Shhh,¡± Svetavastra motioned the preta to be silent. Manu came forward to greet Svetavastra, his eyes gleamed with happiness to meet Svetavastra after so many weeks. ¡°Greetings, Sveta,¡± he said looking into Svetavastra¡¯s eyes. Svetavastra felt time to stop for that moment as he looked into Manu¡¯s eyes. His worry regarding his form seemed pointless. Manu didn¡¯t seem to be bothered by his male form. He didn¡¯t show any sign of surprise or distaste for his appearance. His eyes only showed happiness. Svetavastra felt light and unburdened knowing this. ¡°Greetings, Manu,¡± returned Svetavastra. ¡°How have you been?¡± The prolonged gaze by the two however caught the attention of cosmic Svetavastra who furrowed her beautiful brows. ¡°Hello! I also exist,¡± she remarked caustically, ¡°am I invisible all of a sudden?¡± Svetavastra turned to the cosmic self. ¡°Greetings, cosmic one,¡± he said with a smile. Cosmic Svetavastra waved her hand in dismissal, her sour mood reflecting in her actions. Svetavastra took note of this. ¡°There there, Vaishvi,¡± said Manu gently trying to assuage her. He gave her a nickname. Svetavastra took note of this as well with interest. The cosmic form seemed placated having Manu¡¯s attention return to her. ¡°We have to contain Raktabija and his demon army,¡± said Manu becoming serious, turning to Svetavastra. He went on to explain the devastation the demon army had wrecked upon countless villages, cities and towns until they had found the monastery at Kailashan. How they used the divine weapon and managed to save the monks for the time being. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°The situation is worse than I imagined,¡± said Svetavastra. Manu nodded in agreement. He summoned the Luminous Diksuchi with a hand gesture. It blinked black in all directions like before. He gestured again and it transformed into an expansive hologram map to review. Cosmic Svetavastra was somewhat disinterested in the conversation, she stood behind the other, watching them with folder hands and started fidgeting. Manu pointed out somewhere in the North of the map and said, ¡°This is likely where the Abyss of Talatala, the portal to the Underworld from where Raktabija and his demon army have come to Bhu-loka is located. He demolished all the places on his path till he reached the monastery at Kailashan.¡± He moved his hand and showed a cliff on the map towards the East. Svetavastra leaned in to study the map more closely, his arm brushing against Manu¡¯s as they both focused on the map that now reflected the glowing points of destruction. Cosmic Svetavastra clenched her hands into a fist as she watched the other two together, her eyes lingering on the arms that occasionally came in contact with each other. ¡°You have to throw yourself at him, don¡¯t you?¡± Cosmic Svetavastra muttered under her breath. Manu didn¡¯t hear her but Svetavastra whose hearing sense was heightened due to being blindfolded for so long, heard the comment. He felt a flush of heat come up against his neck but ignored the cosmic self. ¡°We¡¯ll need to counter the darkness before it spreads further,¡± Manu said. ¡°The darkness that has emerged with Raktabija is unlike anything I¡¯ve seen till now.¡± ¡°How so?¡± asked Svetavastra. ¡°Rakshasas have always been trying to create chaos on Bhu-loka,¡± said Manu. ¡°But the darkness that Raktabija is brought with him - it is all-consuming and has tilted the balance of power onto their side.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra pondering the matter. ¡°But the good thing is,¡± he said. ¡°You have fought with and defeated Raktabija in the past.¡± Svetavastra raised his eyebrows. ¡°This was during The Great Drought,¡± started Manu and went on to explain how Raktabija wreaked a similar havoc on Bhu-loka several centuries ago. As Svetavastra and Manu spoke in depth about Raktabija and the demon army, the cosmic form started to get agitated, cosmic Svetavastra¡¯s fingers twitched restlessly at her sides. Her foot kicked a small rock on the ground back and forth. Her gaze shifted from the ground to the two and her lips pressed into a thin line. The small distractions were no longer working for her. ¡°Enough!¡± She said, the word leaving her throat before she could control it. Her cosmic aura flickered with volatility reflecting her emotional state. Svetavastra and Manu froze, their eyes snapping toward her. Cosmic Svetavastra¡¯s breath came in shallow bursts, her fists trembling at her sides. ¡°Cosmic one, what¡¯s the matter?¡± Svetavastra asked stepping toward her but cosmic Svetavastra wasn¡¯t looking at him. Her burning gaze was fixed on Manu. ¡°Why don¡¯t you pay attention to me, Manu?¡± She asked. ¡°I do pay attention to you, Vaishvi,¡± Manu said in a gentle coaxing tone. ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± spat the cosmic form. ¡°I see it, I see you two!¡± Svetavastra blinked in confusion at the turn of events. ¡°I want you to give all of your attention Manu,¡± said cosmic Svetavastra. ¡°I should matter to you!¡± ¡°You do matter to me, Vaishvi,¡± said Manu patiently. ¡°No! Don¡¯t try to fool me!¡± said cosmic Svetavastra, her voice trembling with anger. ¡°Only I should matter to you but look at the way you look at him!¡± Svetavastra coughed. This is embarrassing, he thought. I¡¯m throwing a jealous fit that Manu is showing interest in another version of myself. ¡°I am a part of Svetavastra,¡± continued the cosmic one. ¡°But why do you only look at him with such eyes? Why don¡¯t ever look at me, the same way?¡± Manu opened his mouth to say something but cosmic Svetavastra wasn¡¯t finished. ¡°We spent weeks together, going through all the difficulties and getting her weapon back,¡± said cosmic Svetavastra. ¡°Didn¡¯t that time together mean anything?¡± This is bad, thought Svetavastra looking at her cosmic self spiral out of control. The Sacral Chakra¡¯s imbalance has found expression through her. ¡°Vaishvi, you misunderstand the situation and are blowing it out of proportion,¡± said Manu, his voice calm but strained. ¡°Am I?¡± asked cosmic Svetavastra with a sneer. ¡°Tell me honestly, Manu, who do you love?¡± Manu froze, having been suddenly put on the spot. Svetavastra became alert as well. ¡°Why don¡¯t you answer?¡± continued the cosmic one coming closer to Manu. ¡°It¡¯s not a difficult question.¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t have to answer that,¡± said Svetavastra coming in between Manu and her cosmic self. ¡°Why not?¡± said the cosmic one, her voice rising. ¡°Are you going to steal him from me irrespective of who he chooses?¡± ¡°He¡¯s not a toy to be played with,¡± said Svetavastra in a measured tone. ¡°He is my toy,¡± said the cosmic one her eyes locked onto Svetavastra. Manu inhaled sharply as he heard this. Never in his wildest dreams would he imagine that the aloof god Atisha would actively claim him to be her toy, even if it was an emotionally imbalanced version of herself. Part of him wanted to intervene and part of him wanted to stay put and let Atisha express more and unfold her feelings further. Why do you keep digging a deeper pit for ourselves, cosmic one, thought Svetavastra whose ears had gone red from all the embarrassment of having exposed his innermost emotions through the cosmic self. The chakra imbalance could only exaggerate existing emotions, it could not manufacture or fabricate new ones. ¡°No, he isn¡¯t,¡± said Svetavastra, racking his brains on how to diffuse this tense situation. ¡°He is,¡± said the cosmic one. ¡°He isn¡¯t,¡± replied Svetavastra. ¡°He is,¡± repeated the cosmic one. ¡°He isn¡¯t,¡± repeated Svetavastra. This continued for a while, Manu felt like a spectator watching two mountain lions fight with one another. The cosmic self of Svetavastra pushed Svetavastra to the side, looked at Manu and asked him directly, ¡°Are you not?¡± This was too much for Svetavastra to handle, so before Manu could reply anything, he caught hold of the cosmic one and flew into the air and away from Manu. Manu tilted his head and saw the two forms of Svetavastra becoming smaller in size as they flew away from him. He blinked several times trying to process what had just happened. His heart was beating rapidly, he held a hand to his heart in a futile way to calm it down. ¡°I am,¡± he uttered to an empty forest. Chapter 80: The Moonlit Spring The preta in the bracer wisely stayed silent as the tension between Svetavastra and his cosmic form grew palpable. They had reached this place after flying away from a nearby forest where Manu was left alone. They moved through a narrow, winding passage that cut through the thick forest, climbing the rugged hill ahead. The sun had set behind them, and now only the faint twilight filtered through the dense canopy above. "What are we doing?" asked cosmic Svetavastra, her tone laced with impatience. "We are finding the Moonlit Spring," Svetavastra replied, his voice calm but firm. "Our Sacral chakra is imbalanced. That¡¯s why we¡¯re having these emotional outbursts. If we bathe in the pure waters of the spring, it will help stabilize us." "I don¡¯t have any imbalance," the cosmic form scoffed. "You¡¯re exaggerating everything." Svetavastra sighed, gripping the cosmic form¡¯s arm tighter as they moved forward. The path ahead became narrower, bordered by jagged rocks covered in thick moss. The forest around them had grown darker, the thick undergrowth and low-hanging branches making every step treacherous. Above, the wind rustled the leaves, casting fleeting shadows that danced in their periphery. ¡°Legends say that the Moonlit Spring is blessed by the moon god, Chandra himself,¡± Svetavastra said. "The spring is blessed by the Moon God Chandra. Its waters heal, cleanse, and balance the chakras. But it¡¯s not easy to find, only those pure in heart can find it. Ones with utmost sincerity.¡± Cosmic Svetavastra chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Sincerity? You think I lack sincerity? Or perhaps you''re worried you won¡¯t be deemed pure enough to access it." "I can¡¯t risk your cosmic powers going out of control, especially now that you have one of the four divine weapons,¡± Svetavastra said, choosing not to rise to her bait. "The destruction it can cause is beyond comprehension.¡± "Do you see me being out of control?" The cosmic form raised an eyebrow, amused. "Your emotions are the ones spiralling. I was only trying to make you face them." They reached a sharp bend in the trail where massive, twisted roots had broken through the earth, blocking their way. The roots, as thick as tree trunks, formed a tangled barrier that forced them to stop. The air was cooler here, and a faint mist was beginning to roll in from the hill above, swirling around their feet. "Great," cosmic Svetavastra remarked with a grin. "Do you want me to blast through the rocks? I''m sure the moon god wouldn''t mind a little cosmic intervention." Ignoring her, Svetavastra knelt and inspected the roots. With a few quick gestures, he created a purple spiritual ribbon and flung it toward the gnarled roots. The ribbon glowed faintly, wrapping around the thickest root like a serpent, tightening as he tugged. Slowly, the roots began to shift, creaking and groaning as they gave way, clearing a narrow passage through the barrier. "You look beautiful in the male skin too," cosmic Svetavastra remarked, crouching next to him and catching his chin between her fingers. Her voice was teasing, but there was something deeper in her eyes. "A pity you hide from your own desires." If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Irrelevant," Svetavastra muttered, pulling free from her grasp and yanking the ribbon harder. "Don¡¯t try to distract me." "Of course it matters," cosmic Svetavastra continued, unfazed. "The one whose emotions are all over the place is you. You¡¯ve taken a liking to Manu, and yet you¡¯re conflicted. You want to return to your female form but refuse, all because you¡¯ve convinced yourself it¡¯s just a fleeting emotion." "Not true," Svetavastra said, his voice tight. "Changing forms requires spiritual energy. I¡¯m conserving it." Cosmic Svetavastra¡¯s smile widened, her gaze unwavering. "So you do like Manu," she said softly, releasing his chin. "But you won¡¯t act on it. What a pity. You should enjoy the beautiful aspects of life." "The world is in chaos," Svetavastra snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Besides, Manu is a mortal. What¡¯s the point?" "Manu being mortal makes it all the more worthwhile," the cosmic form mused, her voice soft but probing. "Humans have such short lives. Why not spend what little time you have with him in a meaningful way?" Svetavastra clenched his jaw and stood, stepping through the newly cleared passage. "I don¡¯t want to force Manu to feel or do anything he doesn¡¯t want to," he said, ending the conversation abruptly as he resumed walking, dragging the cosmic form behind him. The mist thickened as they moved higher up the hill, swirling around them like a shroud. The forest floor became more treacherous, slick with dew and scattered with loose rocks. As they climbed, the path narrowed into a ledge that hugged the hillside. The air grew thinner, and the sound of distant water became audible, faint but rhythmic, drawing them closer to the spring. "We can¡¯t afford you losing control," Svetavastra muttered, bringing the conversation back to the cosmic form¡¯s earlier outburst. "I¡¯m telling you again," cosmic Svetavastra said, her patience exaggerated, "I¡¯m a god. I¡¯m perfectly in control of myself. Why don¡¯t you see how I handled the Kailashan incident?" She extracted a shimmering golden memory bubble from her forehead, holding it delicately in her palm before offering it to Svetavastra. The orb pulsed softly. Svetavastra took it, and at once, he was transported into the memory. He saw the cosmic Svetavastra as a radiant golden butterfly, fluttering in front of the head monk Vrishaketu. ¡°Vrishaketu,¡± said the cosmic form. ¡°It¡¯s commendable that you and your monks are fighting dark forces even at the cost of your own lives. But this is not the time to lose your lives in vain. Survive so that you can fight against these forces on a more even ground. I will protect you and your monks for the time being.¡± Svetavastra¡¯s vision shifted to the astral projection of the divine sword¡ªan imposing yet ethereal weapon hovering before the hidden entrance protecting the monks from any demons from approaching them. Snapping back to the present, Svetavastra frowned. "Where¡¯s the sword?" he asked, his tone demanding. Cosmic Svetavastra brought forth the sword in response, its shimmering form appearing before her, hovering in the air, radiating with all the glory of the cosmos. As Svetavastra reached for the sword, his fingertips brushed the glowing hilt. Immediately, a pulse of energy surged through him, his hand trembling as the immense power of the divine weapon crackled to life. For a brief moment, the sword¡¯s energy flowed into him, sending sparks through the air, illuminating the surrounding mist. But before he could grasp it fully, the cosmic form intervened. With a single thought, the sword vanished into nothingness, the lingering energy dissipating in a shower of celestial light. "I need the sword," Svetavastra said, his voice hard with frustration. Cosmic Svetavastra smiled mischievously, her eyes gleaming. "If Manu himself expresses interest, would you give him a chance?" she asked, her voice sweet but layered with challenge. Svetavastra¡¯s expression darkened. "Give me the sword." "Answer me first," the cosmic form pressed, her smile widening as they both stood at the edge of the mystical Moonlit Spring, its silver waters glowing softly under the light of the rising moon. Chapter 81: The Moonlit Spring - II Twilight was giving way to a full moon night, the spring nestled among trees and dense shrubs seemed like liquid silver with a delicate mist swirling above the shimmering water. The air was cool, the luminescence of the water filled the air as well and it felt magical and otherworldly. Hanging vines swayed gently above the waters and glowing lotuses bloomed across the spring. "Answer me first," the cosmic form pressed Svetavastra. Svetavastra sighed. ¡°This is going to take a while,¡± he muttered. He knew that the cosmic form would be stubborn so he thought of getting the divine sword later. He decided to focus on the cleansing in the spring water. ¡°Tell me,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°When you first held the divine sword, did you see any visions or recollect any memories?¡± The cosmic form paused to think, she scratched her chin with her hand. ¡°I did remember seeing some flashes,¡± she said. ¡°The divine sword has seen some epic bloodshed - there were flashes of you fighting hordes of demons single-handed, not just once or twice but multiple times. There were some other visions as well but they were too incoherent and I couldn¡¯t make anything out of them - there was a silhouette of some entity, maybe a god, some endless abyss, a falcon. Random things.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Svetavastra. Just then, the moon had risen into the night sky and the rays of the full moon fell on Svetavastra. A light enveloped him and he transformed back to his original female self. Svetavastra, now a beautiful maiden identical to the cosmic form looked at her delicate hands. The only difference between the two was their attires - Svetavastra was in white robes while the cosmic form was in a white saree. Both looked equally beautiful. ¡°The full moon,¡± said Svetavastra looking at the moon. ¡°Maybe this is a blessing.¡± ¡°Wish Manu was here,¡± grinned the cosmic form. Svetavastra shook her head. ¡°Should I get undressed?¡± Cosmic Svetavastra teased. ¡°Be serious,¡± she said. ¡°There seems to be some celestial alignment taking place with the moon in its fullest form.¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°What does that mean?¡± said the cosmic form. ¡°The waters in the spring become more mystical,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°They may show visions of the past or the future. Apart from cleansing the chakras.¡± ¡°Ohh! Interesting,¡± said the cosmic form. ¡°We have to be careful, though,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Normally, when we cultivate on land, we focus on breathwork, we focus on the incoming breathing and outgoing breath. But here, we have to be submerged in water for the purification to take place.¡± ¡°I see what you mean,¡± said the cosmic form. ¡°Yes,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°So, cultivation in water is different. First, we need to slow our breath so that it becomes imperceptible, and then we submerge ourselves in the water, as we float inside the water, we should focus on the gentle waves of the water in the spring. As the wave passes through us, the sacral chakra will slowly become balanced.¡± ¡°Ahh,¡± said the cosmic form. ¡°But,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Make sure not to do any sudden movements, the water here is mystical and suppresses any survival instincts. If you make any sudden movements, you will slowly drawn into this bottomless lake.¡± ¡°Scary,¡± said the cosmic form. ¡°Scary for you. I¡¯m a god.¡± Svetavastra didn¡¯t react. ¡°Let¡¯s first get the breathing down to almost nil,¡± said Svetavastra as she sat down under a tree. Cosmic Svetavastra followed suit and within a few minutes, both were able to radically slow down their breathing. ¡°Will I be also cleansed, No-god God?¡± asked the preta in the bracer finally finding the space to speak up. ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You don¡¯t have a physical form to feel the rhythm of the spring water. Why don¡¯t you try and find out? There¡¯s no harm in it, is there?¡± ¡°You¡¯re right, No-god God, I¡¯ll also meditate along with you,¡± it said eagerly. Svetavastra opened her eyes and cosmic Svetavastra was already waiting for her at the edge of the spring. They slowly walked into the lake without making any sudden movements. Once they were completely inside the water, they both floated in the water in a cross-legged position. They nodded at each other and closed their eyes to feel the rhythm of the spring water. Slowly, Svetavastra began to feel the subtle current in the water. As the wave of water passed by her, she could feel the energy of the mystical water flow into her and wash her sacral chakra. It calmed her and put her into a meditative trance. At first, there was a blankness and void but as the waves kept washing through her, she started seeing flashes of her memories. They flashed past her mind way too quickly to register anything. She deliberately calmed herself further to focus on just one memory to make it clearer. It was a battlefield and she was facing a horde of rakshasas. These demons were led by the demon lord, Raktabija. He was floating in the air while his demon army was swarming the barren battlefield. She was alone in facing this relentless onslaught. ¡°God of War,¡± said Raktabija. ¡°Look at me and my mighty army. We have come forth from the depths of the underworld. We have taken over vast swathes of this Bhu-loka. The gods tremble at the power I possess. They are too scared to face me. They are afraid of humiliation they will meet at my hands.¡± He gave a maniacal laugh imaging the gods at his mercy. ¡°You are being manipulated by them, God of War,¡± said Raktabija. ¡°Don''t you see it? Why don¡¯t you join me and we shall rule this world and all the worlds there are!¡± Chapter 82: The Moonlit Spring - III Stillness and then the faint ebb and flow of the water in the spring. Svetavastra could feel the wave of energy passing from the spring water to her. The memory she was in became clearer and more focused. The sky was a crimson shade and below her were vast stretches of barren land filled with hordes of demons. At a distance from her hovering in the sky was Raktabija, the demon lord, his red eyes glowing with menace and fascination. In her hands was the divine sword, pulsing with cosmic energy and she wore the radiant armour of the gods. ¡°You are being manipulated by them, God of War,¡± said Raktabija. ¡°Why don¡¯t you join me and we shall rule this world and all the worlds there are!¡± ¡°Desist Raktabija,¡± she said to the demon lord. ¡°Give up with futile attempts and return to the Underworld. This world does not belong to you.¡± ¡°Why are you so stubborn, God of War,¡± said Raktabija. ¡°Why can¡¯t this world belong to me?¡± ¡°You seek to oppress, your powers cause devastation, innocent people suffer endlessly,¡± she said patiently. ¡°Do we need more reasons?¡± ¡°Is that what those armchair gods sitting high above in Swarga-loka are letting you believe?¡± said Raktabija. ¡°We are only claiming what should be rightfully ours. Why should Bhu-loka only be for the gods to descend? We demons can ascend to Bhu-loka as well!¡± Raktabija then directed his demon army to attack her. The demon army charged towards her, scimitars raised, claws outstretched and fangs bared. With one swift motion, Atisha, swung the divine sword, its blade cut through the air with a cosmic hum. The ground beneath her trembled, and the sword released a shockwave of radiant energy. The first wave of demons disintegrated instantly, their forms turning to ash and their screams echoing into the void. But the demons were relentless. For every fallen creature, two more took their place. They circled her below on the ground and attacked her from all directions. Atisha spun, her sword carved arcs of starlight through the demonic flesh, each strike devastatingly clean and calculated. From his perch, Raktabija watched with a twisted smile. His voice boomed over the battlefield, laced with dark temptation. ¡°You do not know the whole truth, God of War. They keep you in the dark,¡± Raktabija taunted, his laughter reverberating through the skies. ¡°I have seen what they fear, and it is not me.¡± Atisha doesn¡¯t respond. His words struck something deep within her, as though they resonated with an old wound she couldn¡¯t quite recall. She clenched her sword tighter. Her focus remained on the horde. Her sword ignited, and she leapt into the air, landing in the center of the densest group of demons. A blinding explosion of cosmic energy erupted from her landing, reducing hundreds of demons to nothing but dust. Raktabija signalled his commanders, and the demon army began to shift tactics. The demon army became invisible and started to throw arrows, spears and swords at Atisha in the sky. She formed a sphere of cosmic energy as a defence shield and all the weapons fell to the ground in an instant. But the attacks on her grew in intensity. ¡°Stop this while you can Raktabija,¡± said Atisha. ¡°I will not hesitate to wipe out your entire army.¡± ¡°Have I gained the powers of the world just to meekly listen to you, God of War?¡± said Raktabija. ¡°I have suffered willingly for a thousand years so that I would fear no one and be beneath no god or demon in this world.¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Invisible spears and arrows from all directions clanged uselessly against the glowing sphere of energy she had formed around herself. But the attacks came faster, harder. She could feel the force behind each blow reverberating through her shield. Her body tensed as she sent another wave of cosmic energy rippling outward, sweeping the ground clean of the demon horde once more. But they kept coming, relentless. ¡°This is not a question of your superiority or inferiority,¡± said Atisha. ¡°But the safety of this world and safety of the beings that live in it. Your path is filled with endless trail of destruction and devastation, what right does it give you to wreak such havoc on this Bhu-loka?¡± Atisha swung her sword in arcs in all directions and the invisible demons fell by the cosmic waves. They became visible before turning to dust. For a moment they was silence. Raktabija sighed. ¡°Useless demons,¡± he muttered as he summoned his scimitar in his right hand. ¡°Looks like I have to fight you myself, God of War. No worries, I hope not to disappoint your divinity.¡± He swung his scimitar with arrogance, expecting to overwhelm Atisha Atisha parried his blow, her divine sword ringing with power as sparks flew from the clash. Raktabiha lunged forward in the air with a mighty swing, aiming to cleave Atisha in two. She sidestepped his attack, her blade flashing in the light as it cuts into his side, spilling his blood. Raktabija laughed as he saw his blood. ¡°God of War, do you not know?¡± He couldn¡¯t stop laughing. ¡°Blood is my power, my endless source of might - I rise in every drop that is spilled. Hahahahaha!¡± Raktabija¡¯s clones rose from the blood on the battlefield, surrounding Atisha, all wielding scimitars and preparing to strike. ¡°You are blinded by your rage and ambition Raktabija,¡± said Atisha. Atisha multiplied herself and each of her clones wielding the divine sword, cut through Raktabija¡¯s duplicates with precision. ¡°You are blinded by your sense of duty as well, God of War,¡± said Raktabija. ¡°You should wake up and seek the truth.¡± ¡°What truth?¡± asked Atisha. ¡°The only thing that matters right now is that you stop this destruction you have started here on Bhu-loka!¡± ¡°Pfft! I have bested several gods, you will follow suit shortly,¡± said Raktabija and in anger, he swung his scimitar wildly trying to break free from the encirclement caused by the clones of Atisha. Atisha¡¯s forms closed the circle, pushing him and his clones inward, forming a barrier of divine light that trapped him. ¡°You cannot hold me! I will tear through this, as I have torn through all who dared stand against me! The gods will bow to my might!¡± shouted Raktabija. He swung his scimitar to attack and break free but the light of Atisha¡¯s sword grew stronger, and the earth trembled beneath them as she channelled more energy into her strikes. ¡°Enough! Time to reflect on what it means to hold such power,¡± said Atisha calmly. The light from her divine sword intensified, forcing Raktabija¡¯s clones to merge back into him, while the ground beneath him began to crack and shift. Atisha thrust her sword forward, sending a final surge of divine light into the ground, creating a portal to the underworld as it opened beneath Raktabija. ¡°Nooooooooo!¡± shouted Raktabija as he fell into the portal. Raktabija¡¯s final scream echoed through the battlefield, the ground trembling beneath her, Atisha¡¯s grip on her sword faltered for a moment. The cosmic energy that surged through her connected to something deep, something long buried within. A sharp pulse of energy rippled through her chest, pulling her backward¡ªno, pulling her inward. Suddenly, the battlefield faded. Shadows deepened around her, and she was somewhere else¡ªsomewhere she had been before but could not fully remember. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing the silhouette of a man standing with his back to her. He stood tall, his posture regal, with a crown that shimmered faintly. The silk robes wrapped around him fluttered gently. There was an undeniable authority in the way he stood, his presence as vast as the skies, and yet his face remained hidden in shadow. ¡°Some things are beyond even the gods,¡± the figure said, his voice cold and resolute, as though he had uttered such words many times before. ¡°No need to kill him, just send him back to the underworld so that he doesn¡¯t return to Bhu-loka,¡± But Raktabija¡¯s words echoed in her mind, gnawing at something buried deep within her. She tried to shake it off, but his voice lingered. For the briefest moment, a flicker of doubt stirred in her heart. What truth did she not know? The memory shattered abruptly as Svetavastra¡¯s eyes snapped open in the water. She gasped, but her lungs filled with nothing but icy liquid. Her vision blurred as she thrashed in the water, trying to reach the surface, but the bottomless lake seemed to drag her deeper. Panic seized her as the weight of the water pressed down, cold and unyielding. Air bubbles escaped her lips, rising slowly to the top. Chapter 83: The Moonlit Spring - IV The descent into the bottomless spring was slow and disorienting. Svetavastra felt weightless, like a leaf drifting downward. Yet there was a force, gentle but inescapable, pulling her deeper into the abyss. She had no control¡ªover her body or her powers. The vast, dark waters seemed to swallow her, pulling her toward the endless void below. The more she sank, the more helpless she felt¡ªa sensation she hadn¡¯t experienced in a long, long time. The pressure of the water surrounded her like a suffocating blanket. Time lost its meaning. It could have been moments, or it could have been an eternity. Something caught her, warm and firm, dragging her upward. The warmth filled her with a sense of life, like a distant echo of herself. Then, everything dissolved into emptiness again¡ªa void where she felt nothing. No pain, no weight, no air. A voice, distant but insistent, broke through the haze. ¡°Come on, Svetavastra!¡± Another familiar voice whined, ¡°Wake up, No-god God!¡± Consciousness returned in fits and starts. She coughed violently, expelling water as her body fought to breathe again. She was lying on solid ground, her cosmic self looming above her, hands pressed against her chest to force the water from her lungs. She opened her eyes to daylight and the cosmic form came into focus. Cosmic Svetavastra grinned down at her, relief evident. ¡°Thank the gods,¡± groaned the preta in the bracer. ¡°Are you alright?¡± said Cosmic Svetavastra. ¡°How¡¯re you feeling?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll survive,¡± said Svetavastra as she struggled to sit up, her head pounded like a drumbeat, ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one who warned me about the bottomless spring?¡± said cosmic Svetavastra. ¡°How come you fell prey to it?¡± ¡°Momentary lapse of control,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Thank you for saving me.¡± ¡°Don''t bother,¡± Cosmic Svetavastra shrugged it off. She stood up and offered her hand. ¡°But seriously, why¡¯d you lose control?¡± The preta¡¯s voice piped up again, curious as ever. ¡°Yes, No-god God. What happened?¡± Svetavastra rose to her feet, still unsteady. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°I was passing through some of my past memories. Something in the memories triggered some instinctive response in me that jerked me awake from the cultivation. ¡± She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of disorientation. ¡°I should have been more careful.¡± Cosmic Svetavastra rubbed her chin. ¡°I see...¡± ¡°I need the divine sword,¡± Svetavastra said with a firm tone. Cosmic Svetavastra hesitated, her usual playfulness faltering as she gauged Svetavastra''s serious mood. With a slight nod, she summoned the Divine Sword, its radiant glow illuminating the space around them. ¡°Wow,¡± said the preta in the bracer as it witnessed the Divine Sword for the first time. ¡°My eyes are blessed to see this divine sword.¡± Svetavastra grasped the hilt of the sword. At first, it seemed familiar, but the moment she held it, the radiant glow dimmed. A flood of memories rushed into her mind, flashing images and sensations she couldn¡¯t fully grasp. The sword felt too heavy to hold, straining her spiritual energy. ¡°I can barely hold it,¡± Svetavastra said, her grip tightening in frustration. In the memory, I could split myself into multiple forms but I have to think twice just to transform back to my female self. My current powers are nowhere near what the powers of God of War are supposed to be. ¡°You can take it,¡± said Svetavastra letting go of the sword. The cosmic form made a gesture and the sword disappeared into her. Am I really the God of War? Svetavastra wondered, her brows creased. What is the truth Raktabija wanted me to find? And who was the god that commanded me to fight him? A surge of frustration welled up inside her. So many questions and the answers felt maddeningly out of reach. She began to pace, her agitation rising with each step. Her cosmic self watched quietly, an amused yet curious glint in her eyes. Just as Svetavastra''s frustration threatened to boil over, a spark of clarity lit up her mind. ¡°Wait... Manu,¡± she whispered to herself. Manu is connected to Swarga-loka. He might have some answers. ¡°Cosmic form,¡± said Svetavastra turning to her. ¡°Let¡¯s return for the time being, we will come here once more to have a deeper cleansing. Right now I need some answers. Let¡¯s head back to Manu.¡± Cosmic Svetavastra smiled. ¡°As you wish,¡± she said and grinned. ¡°I¡¯m always ready to see Manu.¡± The return path from the Moonlit Spring felt different under the daylight, yet still filled with a sense of unease. Sunlight filtered weakly through the mist, creating ghostly beams that pierced the thick air, but the haze remained stubborn, swirling in slow eddies around their feet. ¡°I¡¯d expected it to be clearer in the daylight,¡± muttered Cosmic Svetavastra. Svetavastra led the way, her gaze fixed ahead, her senses on high alert. The sound of their footsteps was muffled by the dew-covered earth. She stepped carefully around the twisted roots and slick rocks that jutted from the trail, still cautious despite the relative brightness of day. She stopped dead in her tracks, arm outstretched to block Cosmic Svetavastra. Her counterpart stumbled into her with a grunt. ¡°What gives¡ª¡± ¡°Shh,¡± Svetavastra gestured for the cosmic form to be silent. Her eyes narrowed as she listened carefully. Faint voices floated through the mist, barely discernible. ¡°Chief, are you sure the spiritual master is here?¡± they could hear a man''s voice ask another. ¡°We¡¯ve been going in circles for hours...¡± Chapter 84: As the Veil of Mist Lifts who had gone berserk and annihilated an entire city with the power of his corrupted yaksha mani She prefers the male skin, thought the cosmic form to herself. Interesting. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. That¡¯s commendable of Aryaman, thought Svetavastra to himself. ¡°What do I do, Cultivator,¡± Toyesha said dejected. ¡°You fear your powers because you have lost the purpose in your life,¡± Svetavastra said. He crouched so that he was at Toyesha¡¯s eye level. ¡°Whatever you are going through right now will take time to heal,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°You can do a great deal of good when you channel the yaksha mani to protect and to preserve. Learn to be compassionate towards all of humanity, that is the only way to atone for what you did.¡± ¡°How do I do that, cultivator?¡± asked Toyesha feeling helpless. Svetavastra thought for a moment. ¡°If you head North, beyond the cliff of Kailashan,¡± he said. ¡°You will find a brotherhood of monks, they recently were attacked by the demon lord Raktabija and his army that is spreading darkness and wreaking havoc on Bhu-loka. It will take our combined powers to take down Raktabija. I still need to recover some of my powers.¡± Toyesha listened with attention. ¡°But for the time being, the monks can create arrays that can keep the darkness at bay temporarily,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°As we speak, they must be travelling from kingdom to kingdom trying to warn people of the impending darkness.¡± ¡°Ohh,¡± said Lakhan remembering something, ¡° Chapter 85: The Heart of a Protector Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Chapter 86: The Falcon of Heavens These memories within me, Svetavastra thought to himself weary from the onslaught of the memories he had received all of a sudden. I need to cultivate at some opportune time to absorb them properly. I may get more and more of memories back now that my chakras are getting aligned and balanced. A divine falcon? Svetavastra thought. I know this falcon, He thought to himself. Who is this monk? I¡¯ll think about this later, first I need to get info about Raktabija from Manu. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Aargh! This sacral chakra! Svetavastra mentally face-palmed himself. I just hope the blindfold hides my flushed cheeks. Chapter 87: The Reckoning of Cardinal Relics If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Chapter 88: Strength, Vigilance, and Patience So much depends on this light, he thought, his grip tightening around the kalasha. If only I could shield him from what¡¯s coming, Aryaman thought, his chest tightening with a mix of protectiveness and dread. But there¡¯s no running from it¡ªnot for any of us. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. If there are rogue pretas, Aryaman thought, could there be a ley line intersection nearby? The pretas hissed, their guttural snarls echoing through the trees as their dark forms twisted and flickered, darting in and out of the shadows. They slithered closer, encircling Aryaman and Sanjaya like a pack of wolves. Chapter 89: Resonance in Ley Lines Aryaman woke up with a start, gasping as pain shot through his body, making it hard to catch his breath. The world around him was spinning, with colors and shapes blurring together, and shadows twisting in strange, unnatural ways. He blinked, trying to focus, but everything kept fading in and out. "Where... am I?" he murmured, his voice shaky. "This isn¡¯t the forest. How did I end up here...?" His thoughts were all over the place, scattered and confusing. Panic started creeping in. This isn¡¯t right, he thought, pushing through the fog in his mind. The air felt thin, like there wasn¡¯t enough of it, making him feel weightless, as if something was pulling him through an invisible tunnel. His arms and legs were shaking as he tried to push himself up, fighting the exhaustion that made him feel like his body was made of lead. Every movement felt like it took all his energy. Aryaman realized where he was, and a cold fear hit him. He was inside the metaphysical plane of the ley line intersection¡ªa place where energy swirled around like invisible currents. Strange lights flickered around him, glowing faintly, while the air hummed with a low, spooky whisper. The lights changed colors¡ªgreen to blue to violet¡ªcasting weird shadows that seemed to move on their own. Aryaman groaned as he forced himself to stand up. His legs felt shaky, and he almost fell, but somehow he stayed on his feet. "I¡¯ve faced worse. Focus Arya,¡± he told himself. ¡°If there¡¯s a way in, then there¡¯s a way out¡ªI just need to find it." Aryaman''s head spun, his sense of reality slipping away. He felt like he was caught in a whirlwind, where everything moved too fast and too slow at the same time, leaving him completely disoriented. Flashes of memories¡ªhis childhood, his training, visions of the future¡ªall mixed together, making him feel dizzy. He saw the faces of people he loved, but their smiles twisted into frowns. Stay grounded Arya, he thought, but it was like trying to hold onto smoke. He could hear echoes of laughter and cries, blending together in a way that was overwhelming. "Illusions. That¡¯s all these are, they are just illusions,¡± he told himself. "They can¡¯t touch me.¡± The world around him lurched, and the energy shifted violently, forming whirlpools of light and shadow, pulling at him like quicksand. The ground under his feet felt unstable, like it was alive and moving, making it hard to keep his balance. Aryaman stepped back, his heart pounding. ¡°I can¡¯t lose myself here." His voice echoed strangely, coming back at him from all directions, but twisted and mocking. The more he resisted, the harder the plane pushed against him, testing him. Voices overlapped, getting louder, taunting him, whispering in languages he barely recognized, yet somehow understood. "You¡¯re weak. You can¡¯t do this," one voice hissed, sharp and cutting into his thoughts. Aryaman felt his chest tighten, his stomach twisting as doubt flooded his mind. The words echoed his deepest fears, making him feel small and powerless. It sounded like his own voice, full of doubt, bringing up every fear he had ever had. Maybe they¡¯re right... he muttered, his voice breaking. His knees buckled, and he thought he might fall. But then he clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. "No. I¡¯ve fought harder battles. I¡¯m stronger than this," he said, standing tall, his determination growing. Dark shapes began creeping from the shadows¡ªrogue pretas. Their eyes glowed red, and their voices were low, growling sounds. They moved toward him, their forms mixing with the shadows around them. "Stay back," Aryaman warned, raising his sword. The blade flickered, dim and weak, as if it was struggling against the darkness. The pretas hesitated, but then they lunged at him, claws outstretched, growling in the emptiness. Aryaman slashed at one of them, cutting it down. It shrieked and pulled away, but another took its place. For every preta he defeated, two more appeared. It¡¯s not working... he thought, fear mixing with his frustration. Why isn¡¯t it working? What am I missing? A rogue preta lunged at him, wrapping its shadowy tendrils around his arm, trying to pull him down. Aryaman swung wildly, cutting it loose, but another one grabbed his leg, pulling him toward the ground. "Get off!" he shouted, struggling, desperate. His voice broke, and he could feel fear creeping in. Then faces appeared in the chaos¡ªSanjaya, with wide, scared eyes, and Svetavastra, calm but distant. Their voices called out to him, begging, filled with pain and fear. "Sanjaya...?" Aryaman¡¯s heart twisted. It¡¯s a trick, he thought. They¡¯re not real. But they looked so real, their eyes pleading, their hands reaching for him. The pain in their voices felt like a knife in his chest. The cries grew louder, more desperate. Help us. Save us. The words echoed over and over, each one more painful than the last. Aryaman clenched his jaw, fighting back tears. He forced himself to turn away, every step feeling like it was tearing him apart. "I can¡¯t... I won¡¯t fall for it," he said, his voice strained but determined. The decision hurt, but it also made him stronger, gave him the strength to keep going, even as the voices kept calling out to him. In the middle of the chaos, a thought cut through everything, stop resisting. He couldn¡¯t beat the energy by force. He had to move with it, not against it. Aryaman closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He focused on the incoming breath and the outgoing breath. Slowly, his breathing became steady and so did his focus. The chaos quieted a bit. The ground under him stopped shifting as much. He felt the bond with the celestial weapon, its presence like a steady light in the darkness. He reached for his celestial sword. It wasn¡¯t just a weapon anymore; it was a tool, a way to connect with the energy around him. He could feel the energy moving through it, matching the beat of his heart. "This isn¡¯t about power. It¡¯s about anchoring," he murmured to himseld, driving the sword into the ground. The blade started to glow, its light growing brighter, resonating with the ley lines. The pressure around him lessened, the chaos settling, the swirling energy calming down. The ground trembled, energy crackling, but it felt different now. It didn¡¯t feel like it was fighting him anymore. Aryaman steadied himself, the light from the sword growing stronger. The pull of the ley lines weakened, as if the energy was finally letting go of him. He could feel the currents shifting, matching his intentions. "Almost there... just a little more," he urged himself, pushing against the last bit of strain, his voice tense but steady. The light from the sword spread out, pushing the darkness back, the rogue pretas dissolving into wisps of shadow that disappeared. The transition hit hard. Aryaman¡¯s body was pulled and squeezed, every muscle straining. Light and darkness flashed around him. The noise grew louder. Louder. It felt like it would split his head open. Every muscle in his body ached, every nerve felt like it was on fire. Stay focused Arya. Breathe... just breathe, he told himself, clinging to the rhythm. He pictured the forest, the solid ground, the familiar smell of the earth and leaves. And then¡ªsilence. The forest came back into view. Aryaman stumbled, his legs shaky, breathing hard. The trees stood still, their shadows long and dark. He could still feel the ley lines humming under his skin, a reminder of what he had just gone through. The rogue pretas were gone, their presence fading like a bad dream. ¡°Your Highness!¡± Sanjaya relieved voice reached his ears before he turned to see him. He let out a breath, feeling a small bit of relief. But as he turned, he noticed a wisp of darkness twirling around his arm, cool and fleeting, before it disappeared into the air. His heart skipped a beat, and a chill went down his spine. What was that? Aryaman thought, his brows furrowing. Chapter 90: An Offering of Kindness Aryaman knelt by the stream, letting his hands sink into the cool water. Ripples darted away from his fingers, and the chill eased the deep ache in his muscles¡ªa reminder of the exhaustion he carried back from the ley lines. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, warming his skin, but it couldn¡¯t strip away the shadows clinging to him. The northern kingdom¡¯s border lay just behind them, and in this foreign land, he felt the weight of his duty more than ever. He was here to link the local deities and strengthen the barriers against the impending darkness, yet memories of the ley lines left him feeling stripped and uncertain. Nearby, Himmat¡¯s breathing was steady, punctuated by soft slurps of water. Aryaman glanced over at his companion, whose ears flicked back and forth, sensing his unease. Aryaman inhaled deeply, projecting calm to steady both his horse and himself. Sanjaya¡¯s footsteps broke the quiet, crunching over fallen leaves as he joined Aryaman at the water¡¯s edge. Aryaman sensed Sanjaya¡¯s curious gaze even without looking. He knew his friend was weighing whether to ask about the ley lines¡ªan ordeal neither of them had expected. ¡°Arya¡­¡± Sanjaya¡¯s voice was tentative. ¡°What was it like¡­ in the ley lines?¡± For a moment, Aryaman watched a leaf spin down the stream, caught in the current. ¡°Like staring into a cruel mirror,¡± he murmured. ¡°It strips away everything you pretend to be, forces you to confront yourself in ways you¡¯d rather avoid.¡± His fingers curled in the water as memories of twisted faces and scenes of failure surged through him, visions that had felt real enough to pierce him. Sanjaya stepped closer, sympathy softening his expression, but Aryaman shook his head. ¡°Even princes have limits,¡± he added with a hollow smile. A shrill cry shattered the quiet, pulling Aryaman¡¯s attention to the forest¡¯s edge. A small child stumbled into view, followed by a woman clutching another child to her chest. Her clothes were tattered, her face hollow with fatigue and fear. The child¡¯s foot slipped on the muddy bank, and before Aryaman could call out, he darted forward, catching her just as she began to fall. He lifted her gently, heart pounding, and set her back on solid ground. The woman¡¯s expression shifted slightly, relief softening the wariness in her eyes. She drew her children close, her body tense but less guarded as she took in Aryaman¡¯s appearance. Her gaze darted to his cloak, lingering on the insignia there, then shifted to Sanjaya¡¯s sword. Aryaman felt her fear like a presence, thick and palpable in the air between them. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, darting from his face to Sanjaya¡¯s, then past them to some unseen horror only she could recall. She clutched her children tightly, her knuckles white, her breath shallow and fast. The haunted look in her eyes unsettled Aryaman; this wasn¡¯t simple exhaustion. It was the look of someone who had seen too much, lost too much. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Sanjaya approached slowly, hands open and gentle, his voice steady. ¡°You¡¯re safe here,¡± he said softly, as if any louder might send her fleeing. ¡°We mean you no harm. What happened to you?¡± The woman blinked, her lips parting, but no sound came. Her gaze grew distant, as though she were seeing something beyond the forest around them, something that made her shiver. Aryaman took a quiet breath, trying to ground himself, trying to project the reassurance she needed. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he murmured, his voice as calm as he could make it. ¡°You are safe.¡± The woman looked at him, her eyes glassy with memories too raw to speak of. Aryaman felt his heart clench as he watched her struggle with words. Without thinking, he reached into his pack, drawing out a piece of dried bread and a small pouch of nuts. He held them out, a simple offering. She stared at the food, her fingers twitching as though she¡¯d forgotten what it was to accept kindness. ¡°Here,¡± he said gently, holding his hand steady, his eyes meeting hers with a warmth he hoped she could trust. ¡°Please¡ªtake it.¡± As her trembling hands reached forward, Aryaman noticed the dirt under her nails, the fine lines on her face deepened by worry and grief. He wondered how many days she had gone without food, how many nights she had held her children close, watching for shadows. The woman glanced at the food in her hands, her fingers tightening around the small piece of bread and the handful of nuts. Her gaze flicked to her children, and something softened in her face¡ªa flicker of gentleness breaking through the fear that had etched lines around her eyes. She broke the bread into two pieces, her hands trembling as she offered each piece to her children. The little girl reached up eagerly, clutching her piece to her chest as if it were something precious. Her brother hesitated, his wide eyes shifting between his mother and Aryaman before taking the bread in both hands, biting into it with small, hurried nibbles. The woman watched them, her lips pressed into a thin line, and when her daughter looked up at her, crumbs dotting her mouth, she managed a small smile. The kind that didn¡¯t reach her eyes but lingered there just long enough to reassure the children, if only a little. ¡°Looks like they haven¡¯t eaten for a while,¡± Sanjaya commented to Aryaman. The prince nodded his face grave with concern. Watching them, he felt a rising unease. Had they been wandering through the wilderness alone, desperate for food and safety? After what seemed like an eternity, the woman whispered, ¡°Tha¡­thank you.¡± ¡°You can speak!¡± Sanjaya teased gently, a flicker of relief softening his tone. But Aryaman shook his head slightly, his gaze still focused on the young mother, his voice softened with respect. ¡°How can we help you, sister?¡± The young mother looked at him, a glimmer of hope shining through her exhaustion. Her face softened, yet the shadows in her eyes didn¡¯t fade. She spoke, her voice strained but steady. ¡°Can you really help us, young lords?¡± ¡°Of course we can,¡± Sanjaya replied with confidence, offering a reassuring smile. But the woman¡¯s face fell, her expression darkening as the weight of her reality returned. She glanced down, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°We need¡­ big help,¡± she said, her words as simple as they were heavy. Chapter 91: The Valley of Despair ¡°Follow me, my lord," the woman whispered, her voice barely carrying through the thick forest. She moved with hurried grace, her children clinging to her tattered garments, small shadows of fear and desperation. The younger child still clutched the crust of bread Aryaman had given, nibbling it as if each bite held the promise of survival. The air grew thicker as they journeyed deeper, the forest seeming to close in around them. Aryaman''s skin prickled with a sense of foreboding. The damp scent of decaying leaves and the distant rustle of creatures hidden in the shadows heightened his unease. Himmat, ever watchful, twitched his ears, his hackles rising. Then the smell reached Aryaman¡ªwoodsmoke mingled with the sourness of unwashed bodies, and beneath it all, the acrid stench of despair. A murmur drifted from ahead like a precursor. As they broke through the underbrush, the sight that greeted Aryaman stole his breath for a moment. The valley below was a sea of makeshift tents and ragged shelters sagging under the weight of hopelessness. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, moved within the camp, their faces gaunt with exhaustion. A little girl clung to her mother¡¯s side, her fingers wrapped around a faded doll with missing eyes, her gaze empty as though she had forgotten what it was to smile. Nearby, an old man sat hunched over, clutching a worn locket as though it held the last of his memories. Banners of the temples, once vibrant and adorned with sacred symbols, were now dull, torn, and repurposed to patch tents and cover weary heads. Tattered prayer flags hung limply, their colours faded, their blessings unanswered. "Great gods," Sanjaya breathed, his eyes wide with shock. They began to descend, their path winding towards the heart of the refugee camp. The low murmur changed, shifting like the wind, as eyes turned towards them¡ªsome wary, others suspicious. A few men moved forward, positioning themselves defensively, their faces dark with mistrust. A scarred man stepped forth, raising his hand to block their path, his eyes fixed on Aryaman''s sword and the military insignia adorning Sanjaya''s attire. "Who are you, strangers?" the scarred man demanded, his voice rough as gravel. "Why do you come here armed?" Sanjaya inclined his head, his tone measured, diplomatic. "We are here to help." Yet his formal garb and poised bearing seemed only to stoke the crowd¡¯s resentment. Angry murmurs rose, bitter as ash. "Help?" The scarred man scoffed, his lips curled in disdain. "No one has offered us any help. We''ve been shunted away like a plague to be avoided, leave us to our misery!¡± Aryaman felt the tension, felt it gathering like a stormcloud. The weight of their hollow eyes bore down on him, full of suffering and the bitter sting of betrayal. His heart clenched¡ªnot in anger at them, but at the injustice that had brought them to this. A frail voice broke through the crowd, trembling with disbelief. "Could it be... my prince?" An old man pushed forward, his eyes searching Aryaman¡¯s face, widening as recognition dawned. "By the gods... it is you," the old man whispered, awe softening the lines of his worn face. He dropped to his knees, his body trembling with the effort. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "Prince Aryaman. I served under your father during the northern campaign." A ripple spread through the crowd. The refugees whispered amongst themselves¡ª"the prince," "the young lord"¡ªand their hardened gazes began to soften, confusion giving way to cautious hope. The old soldier looked around at the crowd, his voice rising as he spoke. "I fought alongside his father. I remember when Prince Aryaman was just a child, no older than some of your little ones here. During the harsh winter, when sickness spread through the villages, his father brought supplies, but it was young Aryaman who insisted on delivering food and medicine himself. I remember him wading through the thick mud after days of unending rain, his feet sinking with every step, yet he pressed on. He went from door to door, his small shoulders burdened not only by the bundles he carried but by the weight of his determination to make sure no one was left behind. I saw it with my own eyes¡ªthe boy was determined to make sure no one was left behind, no matter how cold or tired he became. His heart was pure then, and it must be pure now. If he says he will help, you can trust in his word. I have seen his family honor their promises time and again, and I know this young prince will do the same." The refugees murmured, the old soldier''s words spreading like wildfire, rekindling a belief that had long been extinguished. Aryaman stepped forward, feeling an unexpected warmth for this old man he didn''t remember. Despite not recognizing the soldier, he could see the genuine loyalty in his eyes, and it moved him deeply. He gently embraced the old soldier, saying, "Thank you for your service." The murmurs grew more hopeful, and the crowd shifted, their eyes now filled with a flicker of something that had long been absent¡ªbelief. A mother, her voice barely above a whisper, called out, "My lord... is it true? Have you come to help us?" Aryaman nodded, his gaze sweeping across the sea of faces. ¡°Yes,¡± he said, his voice clear and unwavering. ¡°No empty promises, we are here to help and we will help you all. The darkness that drove you from your homes¡ªit spreads still. I am here to unite the powers of the sacred local deities, to push back against this growing darkness. While I must continue on with that mission. My trusted aide, Sanjaya, here will get food and aid from the nearest Dayita town.¡± The old soldier straightened, a glint of the warrior he once was returning to his eyes. "The prince will not abandon us," he said, loud enough for those around to hear. "He will see us through, as his father did." The people began to murmur their agreement, and Aryaman turned to Sanjaya. "Ride to the nearest town of Dayita, show your official seal and get the local army to help you with transporting the supplies.¡± Sanjaya bowed his head. "At once, Your Highness.¡± ¡°The nearest Dayita town is half a day''s ride,¡± said Sanjaya addressing the crowd. ¡°If anyone wishes to join me, they are welcome.¡± A few young men from the crowd volunteered to join in. As Sanjaya turned to leave with them, a sudden shout erupted from nearby¡ªtwo men struggling over a half-filled jug of water. With days of parched throats and the spring nearly dried up, the fight over the last remnants of water had grown fierce. One was thrown to the ground, only for a third to snatch the jug away, desperation turning their fear into fury. The jug fell, spilling its precious contents onto the dry earth. A woman cried out in despair, and Aryaman felt the weight of the moment settle onto his shoulders. Aryaman took a deep breath. He stepped forward. He raised his hand, his voice steady, commanding without force. "There is a spring to the east," he said, ¡°Sanjaya can guide some of you to it before he sets off. The sister who brought us here also saw the water. Do not worry, there is plenty of water for everyone.¡± The crowd felt a heavy burden lifted from their shoulders and a miracle happening in real-time. They bowed to the prince and wished him good health and long life as he set out to the temple of the local deity. This is what I can do for now, he thought, his heart heavy with all he witnessed at the camp, as he rode on Himmat. Once I return from the linking of the local deities, maybe I can find a more permanent solution. Chapter 92: When the Sun Knelt None of the gods care. Not one would lift a finger to stop the darkness spreading across Bhu-loka. Lord Surya clenched his jaw as he began the grueling ascent of the eastern mountain, his thoughts heavy with anger and disbelief. Below, his devotees¡ªonce so fervent and devout¡ªwere losing faith. For each unanswered prayer, for every unheeded cry, doubt grew like a spreading rot. How could the gods be so indifferent? With each step, Surya¡¯s frustration deepened. It was as if a shadow had fallen across Swarga-loka, muting the gods¡¯ compassion, turning their eyes from the suffering of mortals. Not one had offered to speak with Lord Purandhara, the Lord of the Heavens, nor to challenge this apathy. Was it fear of disturbing the harmony, or a collective, unspoken belief that mortals were beneath their concern? Surya¡¯s heart ached with the cries of his people, with the temples that had been desecrated into oblivion, and with the fear that he, the god of the sun, would soon be forgotten. How could gods, who once brought light and hope, afford to be so complacent? The mountain loomed above him, its snow-capped peaks piercing the heavens. This was no ordinary place¡ªit was sacred ground, where gods came to strip away their powers, seeking purification and penance. Here, Surya¡¯s divine might was reduced to that of a mortal, leaving him exposed to the mountain¡¯s raw, unrelenting elements. The freezing wind roared down from the summit, driving him back, and biting into his skin with each blast. His feet slipped on the frozen stone, his hands scraping against sharp rocks. He had never felt so weak, so vulnerable. Breath clouding in the cold, Surya pressed onward. He clung to his anger, using it to fuel each step, but the climb wore on his body and mind. Soon, the fury that had burned within him began to ebb, leaving only a heavy ache. His steps grew slower, his movements more deliberate. He began to climb with strategy, waiting for lulls in the wind before pressing forward, hiding behind jagged rocks as gusts threatened to knock him back. He inched upward, each step an act of sheer will. As he climbed, memories drifted into his mind¡ªthe faces of his devotees, their voices calling out to him in prayer. Once, those voices had been filled with reverence and trust. But now, he saw their eyes, shadowed with doubt, their voices laced with bitterness. How long before their faith turned to resentment, their devotion to hatred? The thought cut deeper than any of the mountain¡¯s icy winds. After what felt like an eternity, a faint glow caught his eye. A small cave lay concealed among the rocks, emanating a pulse of spiritual energy that beckoned him forward. He stumbled the last few steps, ducking inside and leaving the freezing wind behind. The air within was warm, almost tender, carrying the soft, ethereal sound of a veena. There, seated on a dais of ice, was Lady Ila, the Lady of the East and leader of the gandharvas. Her figure glowed with a gentle, boundless energy, radiating peace. Silver hair cascaded around her, and her eyes remained closed in a deep meditation. Her hands moved over the veena¡¯s strings with effortless grace, each note resonant, ancient, and powerful. The music seemed to flow from her very being, a sound of both tranquillity and strength. Surya knelt before her, bowing his head low, the weight of his journey and desperation pressing on his shoulders. For a moment, he simply listened to the music, its haunting beauty filling the space around him, resonating within his chest. There was peace in the melody, yet it sharpened his sense of urgency, underlining the suffering that persisted on Bhu-loka even as he knelt here. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Lady Ila,¡± he called, his voice thick with fatigue. ¡°Please, awaken. The barrier between Swarga-loka and Bhu-loka is sealed.¡± The veena¡¯s notes continued, flowing uninterrupted as if his voice were nothing but a whisper lost in the wind. ¡°Lady Ila,¡± he said again, louder this time, pleading. ¡°The gods¡ªall of them¡ªare stranded in Swarga-loka. We cannot descend to help those who cry out to us. Darkness spreads unchecked on Bhu-loka.¡± Still, her hands moved, fingers plucking the strings in an endless, delicate rhythm, as though bound by some sacred duty to the music alone. Surya¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°Lady Ila, my devotees are losing faith. They pray and receive only silence. They feel abandoned. The people suffer, and we cannot help.¡± Surya knelt, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion, and waited, hoping¡ªpraying¡ªthat she would respond. But her serene expression did not change, her eyes remaining closed, her face as still as water. The melody continued, unbroken, and his words seemed to dissolve into the music, like a pebble sinking into the depths of a vast, indifferent ocean. What more could he say? What more could he do? Desperation clawed at him, gnawing at his last shreds of resolve. The weight of every unanswered prayer, every unheeded plea, pressed down on him, until even breathing felt like an effort. He had crossed freezing winds, climbed sharp rocks, and left behind the comfort of his own realm¡ªyet here he was, powerless, ignored, a god pleading in vain. For the first time, Lord Surya, god of the sun, wondered if he was truly as helpless as the mortals below. What good was his light if it could not reach them? What kind of god was he, if he could not protect his own devotees? He had always believed that his existence mattered, that his radiance gave strength to the world below. But now, a cold dread gripped him, whispering that perhaps even his light was fading, that he, too, would be forgotten. He lowered his head, his mind reeling, grasping for anything, any word or memory that might break through her trance. But every thought felt hollow, every plea swallowed by silence. This was the end of his strength. He had nothing left to offer. Then, just as the last glimmer of hope began to fade, a memory rose within him¡ªfaint, like a spark flickering in the darkness. A memory of Lady Ila¡¯s son, a child on Bhu-loka. Prince Aryaman. The thought struck him with the force of a revelation. His heart stilled, then surged as if infused with a new, vital energy. Aryaman¡ªLady Ila¡¯s only son, bound to the mortal world. In that moment, Surya felt a clarity that cut through his exhaustion, a divine intuition whispering that this was the way to reach her. Surya lifted his head, a sense of purpose coursing through him. He straightened, summoning every last ounce of strength. In a voice barely above a whisper, but laden with urgency, he said, ¡°Prince Aryaman is in danger.¡± The music ceased. Her fingers stilled, hovering over the strings. Slowly, Lady Ila opened her eyes, their depths vast and knowing, like the break of dawn after a long, dark night. Far away, in the celestial palace, Lady Sachi stood on her balcony, gazing toward the eastern mountain. The distant rumble of an avalanche broke the stillness, and she watched as snow tumbled down the peak, the mountain shaking. Her brows furrowed, heart pounding as she turned back to the shadowed figure of her husband in their bed chamber, the Lord of the Heavens, still deep in his soma-induced slumber. Lady Ila awakens, thought Lady Sachi, watching the snow cascade down the mountainside, her grip tightening on the balcony rail. Chapter 93: The Weight of Celestial Choices This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Chapter 94: Atop the Mythical Shyena Shyena was a mythical bird with cosmic powers therefore it could transform into size five times that of its current size with ease. It was this way that Svetavastra and Manu got onto Shyena to make way to the North to retrieve the divine bow, the cardinal relic of the North. Cosmic Svetavastra took the form of a silver circlet placed over Svetavastra¡¯s head. This would reduce the load on Shyena and make it easy to control the sacral chakra imbalance that both versions of Svetavastra were prone to. Shyena soared high in the sky where clouds were scarce, from their vantage point, they could see vast stretches of land covered in darkness as they moved further up into the North. The great bird¡¯s feathers rippled with flecks of violet and blue, gleaming like liquid metal under the muted sun. The ends of Svetavastra¡¯s white blindfold as well as his white robes fluttered in the wind. His left robe brushed against Manu from time to time. Crisp, biting wind whipped against their faces, carrying with it the scent of cold stone and distant pine, and the faint metallic taste of looming danger. ¡°That could be the Abyss of Talatala,¡± said Manu pointing to a vast sinkhole in the middle of what seemed like a never-ending desert that was covered in darkness. ¡°An active portal to the underworld,¡± said Svetavastra. Manu nodded. ¡°This could be where Raktabija led his demon army into Bhu-loka,¡± he said. The preta in the bracer shivered as it looked down from the bracer and saw the darkness below it from the edges of Shyena¡¯s body. ¡°So scary, so so scary,¡± it muttered. ¡°A preta?¡± remarked the cosmic form from the circlet. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had a pet preta with you, Sveta.¡± ¡°I am not a pet, Your Divinity,¡± said the preta trying to be polite. ¡°I am a disciple of No-god God.¡± ¡°No-god God!¡± repeated the cosmic form amused. ¡°Hahaha, what¡¯s a No-god God?¡± The preta did not feel like justifying its salutation. The cosmic form sensed that. ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± cosmic Svetavastra said. ¡°To each their own, I guess. But what are you called, preta?¡± ¡°I have no name, Your Divinity,¡± said the preta. ¡°Would you like me to name you?¡± Asked the cosmic form. ¡°With respect Your Divinity, I only wish the No-god God to name me,¡± the preta said. ¡°What a loyal and stubborn preta,¡± remarked the cosmic form. ¡°Much like you, Sveta.¡± Svetavastra chuckled and shook his head. ¡°What¡¯s so amusing?¡± asked Manu who was oblivious to the conversation happening between the cosmic form and the preta since he was human. ¡°Nothing,¡± said Svetavastra. He could only partly see the Abyss from his mind¡¯s eye.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°We need to seal the portal,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°If we could somehow send the demon army back through this portal,¡± said Manu. ¡°That would be the best outcome.¡± ¡°The demon army is controlled by darkness,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°If it¡¯s similar to how it was with the rogue pretas and the undead, purifying them might still be possible.¡± ¡°Do you think so?¡± asked Manu. ¡°That would require - I can¡¯t even imagine how much spiritual power that would be needed for it!¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Svetavastra. ¡°Theoretically, it¡¯s possible. But the main threat is that of Raktabija. He is the one we should be most worried about.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± nodded Manu. ¡°Once we get the Divine Bow, we will acquire the tactical advantage of distance.¡± ¡°Tell me more about the Divine Bow,¡± asked Svetavastra, curious about the celestial relic. Manu looked at the blindfolded Svetavastra for a brief moment, his eyes a mix of various indescribable emotions. Manu''s voice took on a storyteller''s cadence as he began to recount the tale. "Long ago, when you were still young Atisha, you ventured into Bhu-loka with a group of adolescent gods. You were so eager to explore, to help." A wistful smile touched his lips at the memory. Svetavastra tried to picture it - a youthful version of himself, brimming with naive optimism and untested power. It felt both foreign and achingly familiar. "Your party came upon an ashram high in the Nandana mountains," Manu continued. "But something was wrong. The air hung heavy with fear and malaise. Demons had been tormenting the ashram, you see. Stealing food, destroying sacred items, and spreading dread." A phantom scent filled Svetavastra''s nostrils - acrid brimstone and rotting flesh. His stomach clenched. "You were magnificent." Pride suffused Manu''s words. "You called forth your divine sword, blazing with righteous fury. The demons didn''t stand a chance. They scattered like roaches before a flame. Some crawling all the way back to the underworld.¡± Svetavastra''s palm tingled, muscle memory of a hilt''s weight. He could almost feel the sword''s familiar thrum, the whoosh of it cleaving fetid air. "But then, as the dust settled, you heard it." Manu''s tone softened. "A child''s heartbroken wail. A little girl sat rocking in the ashram courtyard, tears streaking down her face. One of the demons had ripped her favourite toy - a wooden bullock cart - from her hands as a last act of cruelty before fleeing." Svetavastra''s throat tightened, a lump of sudden emotion. He didn''t remember the girl, but he felt the echo of her pain as if it were his own. "You knelt before her, this tiny slip of a mortal child. You took her small hands in yours, and promised you would bring back what was stolen." In his mind''s eye, Svetavastra saw the scene - the trembling girl, the tears, his own younger face etched with solemn determination. "And so, for the second time, you reached for your cosmic essence,¡± Manu said, voice hushed with awe, "and summoned the divine bow. It burst forth in a blaze of cosmic light, thrumming with power and purpose." A shiver ran down Svetavastra''s spine, a sense of recognition coming back to him. His fingers flexed unconsciously as if to grasp a bowstring. "With that celestial weapon, you marked the fleeing demon. And no matter how it tried to hide, no matter what dark corner of the three worlds it cowered in - your arrow found its mark. The toy bullock cart was returned, and the child''s face was filled with gratitude and joy." Manu paused, letting the weight of the memory settle. Svetavastra felt a tightness in his chest, a bittersweet ache. What had happened to that pure-hearted young god, so full of easy compassion and cosmic conviction? Had the passage of eons jaded him, hardened him? ¡°You are a worthy one,¡± said the cosmic form. The preta sniffled in the bracer, breaking the poignant silence. "No-God God is the kindest, bravest, best god. This preta will follow him anywhere." Ambivalent emotions swirled in Svetavastra''s heart - gratitude and unworthiness, determination and doubt. But one thought crystallized clear and bright. He would try. For the sake of the god he had been, and the protector he wished to become once more - he would try and he would never stop trying. He fixed the story in his mind like an emblem, a talisman against the dark. And as Mount Meru''s snowy peak filled his inner view, he felt a flicker of his old self returning to him. Chapter 95: Amidst an Awakened Snowstorm ¡°Wow,¡± said the preta in the bracer as Svetavastra took in Mount Meru¡¯s towering peaks with his mind¡¯s eye. ¡°My my,¡± said the cosmic form. ¡°Majestic, isn¡¯t it?¡± asked Manu as he looked at Svetavastra. ¡°It is,¡± said Svetavastra in awe. As they got nearer to the mountain out of nowhere they were enveloped by a snowstorm. How to get through without using either spiritual or cosmic powers? With the storm battering them like an enraged beast, that seemed impossible. He could already feel the magic humming under his skin, ready to surge forth and push back against the relentless onslaught. But he forced himself to hold back, trusting Manu¡¯s judgment. Manu is a reliable ally, thought Svetavastra to himself. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Chapter 96: The Pathway of Purity The cave''s mouth gaped like the jaws of Time itself, ancient guardian carvings adorning its threshold¡ªnot mere decorations, but sacred protectors marking the boundary between the material and spiritual realms. As Svetavastra dismounted from Shyena, his mind''s eye traced the stories etched in stone¡ªcelestial beings caught mid-dance, their graceful movement frozen in eternal beauty; stern guardian kings with eyes of precious gems that seemed to follow every movement, their expressions both kind and fierce; and great serpents whose coiled forms spoke of dormant energy lying in stone. "The air feels so still,¡± the preta whispered from the bracer, uneasy. "It''s like a thousand hungry spirits holding their breath, waiting to devour ours." Svetavastra understood. The cave''s atmosphere pressed against them with the weight of accumulated ascetic practices¡ªcenturies of prayers and offerings had made the very air thick with spiritual energy. Each step deeper brought new sensations: the soft squelch of glowing fungi beneath their feet, their bioluminescence pulsing in rhythm with the universal sound; the steady drip-drip-drip of water that had witnessed countless meditations; and an odd light that seemed to dance with their own life-force. Shyena, the divine bird, though powerful in its own right, grew increasingly agitated. Its talons scraped against stone as it refused to venture further, its golden eyes wide with the instinctual recognition of a power older than itself. "Even celestial creatures know when they approach the threshold of the threefold path," Manu said softly, stroking the bird''s feathers. The bird relaxed slightly under his touch, recognizing in him something eternal despite his mortal form. "We continue on foot from here." The cosmic form hung back, her usual playfulness subdued by the cave''s ancient presence. Through their shared connection, Svetavastra felt her divine energy dampen, like a flame struggling against sacred winds. Something about this place reached past surface power to touch deeper truths. They hadn''t gone far when the tunnel opened into a vast hall that could have rivaled the meditation halls of ancient sanctuaries. Three pathways branched outward like the strands of a sacred tree, each marked with different guardian symbols that glowed with a pure light. "These signs," Svetavastra murmured, studying the mystical symbols with his mind''s eye. "They speak of trials by spiritual fire. Each path represents one of the energies¡ªpurity, passion, and darkness." The ancient script resonated with something deep within him, stirring fragments of memories like leaves in a divine wind. Is this why I feel pulled toward the path of purity? he wondered. Or is that very attraction an illusion meant to trap me? "We should¡ª" Manu began, but his words were cut short by a rumble that shook the chamber like an earthquake. The ground beneath them shifted as if awakening from a deep sleep, stone grinding against stone with the sound of ancient chants. Svetavastra reached for Manu instinctively, but the floor between them split and reformed into an impenetrable wall, as unbreakable as illusion itself. "Manu!" Svetavastra called out, his voice swallowed by the grinding stone like an offering to the earth. "Keep your mind steady! This is an illusion!¡± Manu''s voice returned, muffled but carrying the strength of truth. "Remember Sveta, illusion can only bind those who believe in its chains!"This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The chamber continued transforming, forcing Svetavastra down the path of purity while the grinding of stone masked Manu''s voice entirely. The glowing fungi cast shadows that danced like spirits in ecstasy, taking forms that seemed almost human before dissolving back into the primordial darkness. "No-god God," the preta''s voice quavered, its very essence trembling. ¡°This is a powerful illusion, even I cannot see through it." Svetavastra felt it too¡ªa pressure building behind his inner eye like the moment before a great awakening. The air grew cold as mountain peaks, and the walls pulsed with the light of some strange power. Each step forward brought new whispers, echoing fragments of conversations from past ages that teased at his dormant memories. "You were divine once," the walls seemed to whisper in the voice of Time itself. "You were made of pure cosmos.¡± The passage curved like a serpent seeking truth, opening into a small meditation chamber. There, standing in its center like an idol come to life, was a figure that made Svetavastra''s heart still its mortal dance¡ªa warrior in armor that shone like sunlight, divine weapons humming with cosmic power, radiating the terrible beauty of absolute divinity. Atisha. The God of War. His own true form. The figure turned, and Svetavastra found himself gazing into eyes that held the weight of three worlds, filled with the power that maintains cosmic order and the judgment that ends ages. "Behold what you''ve become," Atisha said, her voice resonating the chamber. "A mere shadow of divine light. You who once wielded the weapons of the gods now depend on borrowed power like a beggar at a temple door." Svetavastra felt his throat constrict with the force of suppressed truth. How many beings had crossed into Death''s realm because he wasn''t strong enough? How many more would fall while he struggled to reclaim even a spark of his former glory? But something else stirred within him¡ªa quiet certainty that transcended both memory and power, steady as the sacred mountain itself. "I may be diminished now," he said, his voice carrying the simple truth of a temple bell, "but I haven''t forgotten what true righteousness means." Atisha smiled¡ªa terrible vision that held both creation and destruction in its depths. She moved grace that felt magnetic. "Protection?" Atisha''s laugh rang like an echo."You speak of protection while wielding borrowed power from a mortal ascetic?" The warrior''s form flickered like lightning, and suddenly Svetavastra saw his current form¡ªblindfolded, bound by mortality''s chains, dependent on others'' light like a lamp without oil. "No-god God," the preta stirred in desperate protest, its voice carrying anguish. "This is illusion''s deepest¡ª" "Silence!" Atisha commanded with the force of divine law, and even the preta fell silent, though Svetavastra could feel its agitation buzzing against his skin like trapped energy. I should feel anger, Svetavastra thought. I should feel shame. But instead, a strange peace settled over him¡ªthe peace that comes from seeing through illusion to truth. He remembered the monks at the monastery, their faith pure as the river''s waters. He thought of Aryaman, learning to channel his powers not for ego but for service. He remembered Manu''s unwavering support, asking nothing in return like true selfless action. "You see this as weakness," Svetavastra said, his voice soft but carrying the power of realized truth, "but I''ve learned more about protection through vulnerability than I ever knew through divine might." The chamber trembled like a struck gong. Atisha''s perfect features twisted with something like anger¡ªor was it fear? "Pretty words," the god of war spat, "fit for wandering ascetics. But what of the dark forces? What of the darkness spreading across the world like poison? Will your knowledge stop their weapons when they drink the life of the innocent?" Images manifested in the air like cruel karma bearing fruit¡ªvillages burning, temples desecrated, faithful devotees crying out to unhearing gods. Each vision struck like thunder, but Svetavastra stood firm as truth itself. "I may lack my former glory," he said, "but true power isn''t in the weapon but in¡ª" "Enough!" Atisha''s form blazed with the light of a thousand suns. "If you truly believe this detachment, then prove it. Take up your divine weapon. Show me this new strength you claim to possess." Chapter 97: The Trial of Power Darkness crept through the ancient chamber like a living thing, dimming the luminescent fungi one by one until only a ghostly glow remained. Svetavastra felt it building¡ªa pressure in his bones, in the hollow of his chest where his cosmic core once resided. His borrowed spiritual powers trembled, recognizing something vast approaching. The divine sword materialized out of thin air. It hung suspended in the sacred air, its blade humming. Golden light rippled from its edge in waves. The yearning hit him like physical pain. One touch, his heart whispered with a child''s simplicity. One touch and you could save them all. No more borrowed power, no more struggling against forces beyond mortal comprehension. One touch and you could be whole again... "Such hesitation," came a voice that made his borrowed spiritual energy recoil in recognition. "How far we have fallen." Atisha emerged from between one heartbeat and the next, divine armour gleaming like captured starlight. But it was the eyes that struck deepest¡ªeyes that held the fire of a thousand suns, that had witnessed the birth and death of ages. Eyes that knew him completely, stripped bare of all pretense. "Once," Atisha continued, each word falling like judgment, "we commanded the hosts of heaven. Gods themselves knelt before our strength. Now look at you¡ªscraping by on borrowed power, hiding behind mortals while darkness devours the world we swore to protect." Images flooded Svetavastra''s mind¡ªnot memories, but present horrors. The border city consumed by darkness. The refugees fleeing north, terror in their eyes. The monks of Kailashan scattered to the winds. "Without me, you are nothing," Atisha''s voice cracked like thunder. "A shadow playing at divinity. How many more villages will burn? How many more innocent lives will be lost because you are too weak to save them? The darkness spreads, and you can barely hold a single divine sword." The sword''s hum deepened, resonating with something primal in Svetavastra''s being. Its light pulsed like a heartbeat, each wave making his borrowed spiritual powers feel more inadequate, more temporary. More false. But as his hand began to rise, drawn by that siren song of power, other memories surfaced¡ªnot of glory, but of grace. Irawati, blind and aged, sharing her spiritual essence without hesitation. Aryaman, kneeling in the dirt, focused only on serving his people. The preta, earnestly attempting meditation despite eons of suffering. Manu... Manu, whose every gesture spoke of faith not in power, but in something deeper. "No," Svetavastra said, and though the word was quiet, it carried the weight of mountains. The chamber went still as death. Even the fungi''s light seemed to hold its breath. "No?" Divine wrath crackled in Atisha''s voice, making the very stones tremble. "You would reject your own essence? Deny what you are?" "The sword was never our essence," Svetavastra said. Each step forward felt like pushing through divine resistance, like walking against a cosmic wind. "It was a tool¡ªa skillful means, nothing more. Our true essence was always our vow¡ªto protect, to serve, to stand against injustice. That hasn''t changed, even if our means have become humble." "Without power, how will you fulfill that vow?" Atisha demanded, but uncertainty flickered across those perfect features like ripples on still water. "How many will die while you cling to this false humility?" "Look!" Atisha''s voice rang with divine fury as she gestured, and the chamber walls dissolved into visions. Villages burning under demon fire, children crying as darkness devoured their homes, temples crumbling as faith died in human hearts. "This is what spreads while you hide behind mortal weakness. This is the cost of your humility!"If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Each vision struck like a blade to Svetavastra''s heart, but he stood unmoved. "You show me suffering to justify power," he said quietly. "But how many times has power itself caused such suffering? How many empires have fallen because gods thought strength alone made them wise?" "Strength is wisdom!" Atisha''s form blazed brighter, her divine beauty terrible to behold. "The cosmos itself teaches this truth - the strong protect the weak. When Lord Purandhara slew Vritra, when I vanquished Marutaketa and sent Raktabija to underworld - was this not power in service of justice?¡± "And yet," Svetavastra countered, ¡°true power lies not in might, but in choice." The sword pulsed between them, its light casting shadows that danced like arguments across the walls. "You speak of choice?" Atisha''s laugh held the bitter edge of celestial judgment. "Then choose! Choose to be what you were born to be - the shield of worlds, the sword of heaven, the protector of justice itself! How many ages did you train? How many lives did you spend perfecting these divine arts? Would you waste all that preparation, all that purpose?" Her words struck deep, resonating with memories that felt like mountains in Svetavastra''s mind. Ages of training, lifetimes of preparation, purposes as vast as the cosmos itself. The weight of divine destiny pressed down like a physical force. "I choose what you have forgotten," Svetavastra said, each word carefully placed like a step across turbulent waters. "The greatest power lies not in what we can do to others, but in what we choose not to do. Not in how many we can defeat, but in how many we can uplift. True strength flows not from domination, but from compassion." "Compassion?" Divine scorn made the fungi lights flicker. "Will compassion stop Raktabija''s armies? Will gentle words turn back the tide of darkness? This is not a time for philosophical debates - this is war!" "And that is exactly why we must choose differently," Svetavastra replied. "War begets war. Power calls to power. I have to break this cycle, change comes with not raising armies, but with transforming hearts." "Pretty words," Atisha sneered, though something flickered in her divine eyes - an uncertainty, a question. "But while you transform hearts, the darkness transforms bodies into corpses. While you preach peace, demons feast. How many will you sacrifice for your principles?" "How many have already been sacrificed for power?" Svetavastra''s voice grew softer, yet somehow filled the chamber more completely. "Look deeper into those memories you showed me. In every burning village, every crumbling temple, every crying child - what do you see? Not just darkness destroying, but power corrupting. Strength without wisdom becoming tyranny. Force without compassion becoming cruelty." The chamber grew still, the very air heavy with competing truths. Divine radiance met mortal wisdom, celestial purpose faced earthly understanding. The sword hung between them, no longer just a weapon but a question incarnate - what truly protects? What truly saves? "You would reject everything we are?" Atisha''s voice held something new - not just anger now, but a tremor of something deeper. "Everything we could be?" "No," Svetavastra said gently. "I choose everything we should be. The harder path. The slower victory. The deeper truth." His fingers touched Atisha''s cheek. Divine energy surged through him like lightning, threatening to burst his mortal vessel. Memories crashed through him¡ªbattles that reshaped mountains, moments of cosmic triumph, aeons of divine service. But mixed with it all was something new: wisdom born of vulnerability, understanding forged in limitation, compassion learned through dependence on others. The illusion shattered like a struck mirror, fragments of divine light exploding outward before dissolving into nothingness¡ªthe void that holds all possibilities. The sword disappeared with it, but Svetavastra felt no loss. Instead, a profound peace settled over him like the first rainfall of monsoon. "No-god God!" the preta breathed in awe. "Your form... it shimmers with inner radiance!" Through the dissolving stone wall came Manu''s voice, tight with concern. "Sveta! Are you there?" As the barrier fell away, they saw each other clearly¡ªManu''s usually perfect composure marked by whatever trial he had faced, his eyes holding new depths of understanding. Something passed between them in that moment, deeper than words¡ªa recognition of shared transformation through ordeal. Beyond them loomed an ancient door that seemed to bend light itself around its edges. Sacred symbols writhed across its surface like living things¡ªnot mere script but cosmic riddles taking form, each pattern a truth waiting to be realized. The door radiated age and power, as if it had waited eons for this precise moment. "The entrance to the relic chamber," Manu said softly, moving to stand beside Svetavastra. His presence was steady as Mount Meru itself. The preta stirred in the bracer. ¡°That was nerve-wracking.¡± Despite everything, Svetavastra smiled. Even in the midst of cosmic drama, some things remained wonderfully constant¡ªlike the preta''s earnest thoughts. They approached the door, ready to face whatever trials lay ahead. Chapter 98: Shards of Twisted Truths "The door recognises you." His words were soft. "Only you can enter, because you are the true owner of the Divine Bow." There¡¯s something amiss here. I¡¯ll deal with it later. He took a moment and then said to Manu, What is this feeling? Do I like him that much? This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Chapter 99: The Promise to Lord Chitravaan Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Tatha!¡± Tatha - an affectionate way to say, grandfather Chapter 100: The Divine Bow is Retrieved I¡¯m honoured to have you back, Svetavastra thought. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Chapter 101: The Lady of Darkness ¡°I believe the Cardinal Relic of the East may be protecting them,¡± Raktabija had told her during the raid of the Kailashan Monastery. The Cardinal Relic of the East, whispered the thought in her mind. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Chapter 102: Whispers of the Scimitar The war room was steeped in a restless gloom, its walls of jagged obsidian glistening as if sweating shadows. Raktabija stood over the map of Bhu-loka, his clawed hands resting lightly on the table¡¯s edges. The map itself was no ordinary artifact¡ªits surface pulsed faintly with ley-line energy, shifting as though alive. The veins of power converged and diverged across the lands, revealing spiritual strongholds, pockets of resistance, and untapped sources of light. He reached out, claws tracing the glowing veins of cosmic power etched into the obsidian table. The ripple was faint, but unmistakable¡ªa cosmic footprint left behind by one who had dared retrieve a cardinal relic. His lips twisted into a grimace. ¡°Who could retrieve it?¡± he muttered. ¡°It can¡¯t be Atisha. I don¡¯t sense her cosmic powers.¡± His grip on the table tightened, the obsidian groaning under his strength. The Northern relic had been disturbed. The balance he sought to tip in his favor now wavered precariously. He traced a claw across the surface, stopping at the North where the last remnants of Kailashan¡¯s monks had fled. His crimson eyes gleamed as he studied the paths of retreat, weaving through dense forests and rugged terrains. "Splitting the legions," he murmured his voice a low growl that echoed in the chamber. "Each demon faction advances on its own path, and together, we will eclipse this realm." The plan was audacious. The demon army had always thrived on the overwhelming, unified force, but Raktabija saw an opportunity to fracture it into factions. The darkness spread faster this way, consuming entire regions before resistance could mount. And the cardinal relics¡ªthose elusive shards of divine power¡ªwould be found more quickly if his generals scoured every corner of Bhu-loka simultaneously. Yet, as he planned, a flicker of movement drew his gaze downward. For a moment, he thought the Scimitar at his side trembled on its own. He dismissed the notion, returning to the map, but the blade whispered to him in a voice like cold steel scraping against bone. "Wise... but desperate. Divided, your forces are strong. And yet, so... fragile." Raktabija froze. The Scimitar¡¯s voice had grown louder in recent days, creeping into his thoughts. He clenched his jaw, his clawed fingers tightening on the map¡¯s edge. "Be silent," he muttered. "You are a tool, not a judge." "Am I?" the voice replied, a cruel lilt in its tone. "You wield me, yet who holds the reins of power, Raktabija? Your strength grows. But your mind... unravels." He shut his eyes, willing the whispers to fade. They didn¡¯t. Instead, the weapon pulsed faintly, its presence suffocating. For a moment, his vision blurred, and he saw himself¡ªrobes of white silk, hands clasped in prayer, his followers chanting his name in reverence. "Faith," the Scimitar mocked, its laughter sharp and biting. "What a fragile thing. Just as you are now." The memory shattered, and Raktabija slammed a hand against the table. The map¡¯s ley lines flared briefly before settling into their rhythmic glow. He took a shuddering breath, composing himself just as hurried footsteps approached. A messenger entered, his grotesque demon form bowing low. "My lord, news from General Chaayasura. The monks of Kailashan have eluded capture and found refuge." Raktabija¡¯s gaze flicked to the area on the map in the North, where the ley lines were weak but persistent. "Refuge?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. The messenger hesitated. "General Chaayasura believes they are protected by a mysterious man... possibly a Yaksha." At this, Raktabija straightened, his eyes narrowing. "A Yaksha?" His tone was laced with intrigue. Yakshas rarely meddled in mortal affairs. Their intervention suggested the monks were more than mere remnants of a lost cause.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. "Interesting," he said, his eyes grim. He turned to the messenger. ¡°His forces are insufficient. Send reinforcements from the central legions. Ensure that the Yaksha is brought to his knees, and the monks extinguished." The messenger bowed deeply and disappeared into the shadows. Raktabija moved to the western edge of the map, where General Darvasura led an assault on the temples of Satyavan. Reports from the West had been promising, the temples falling one by one, their defenders succumbing to the demon onslaught. Still, the relics eluded them. "The West will bend," he murmured to himself, his claws tracing the ley lines. Darvasura¡¯s brute strength was effective but lacked finesse. If the relics were hidden deep within the temples, they would require precision to retrieve them without destroying their power. His attention shifted eastward, where Tamrapatra prowled the jungles in search of the final relic. The East was a labyrinth of shadows and secrets, but Tamrapatra was relentless. She would find what he sought¡ªor the jungle would burn. As Raktabija prepared to leave for the North, the Scimitar pulsing impatiently at his side, another messenger entered the chamber. This one was calm but visibly excited. "My lord," he said, bowing low. "A report from the West. General Darvasura''s forces have discovered a site matching the descriptions of a cardinal relic. The energy readings align with that of the cardinal relic.¡± Raktabija froze, his gaze snapping to the messenger. For a moment, the shadows seemed to retreat, leaving the air heavy with silence. Then his lips curled into a cold smile. "The relic," he said softly. "It reveals itself at last." As Raktabija turned his attention westward, the map pulsed faintly where the ley lines intersected near the Temple of Satyavan. The report from Darvasura weighed on him. If the cardinal relic truly lay within that temple, the West could become the decisive front in his conquest. Yet, Darvasura¡¯s unchecked ambition lingered in his mind. The Scimitar pulsed at his side, its whisper soft at first, like wind scraping over bone. ¡°You place much faith in Darvasura,¡± it began, its voice curling into his thoughts. ¡°Do you truly believe he can be trusted to serve you and you alone?¡± Raktabija¡¯s claws tightened around the edge of the table. ¡°He has been loyal,¡± he replied, his voice low, though a flicker of uncertainty crept into his tone. ¡°Loyal?¡± The Scimitar¡¯s laugh was sharp and biting. ¡°To whom? To what? His strength, his victories, his glory? Does he not already dream of wielding the relic for himself?¡± Raktabija growled, but the blade pressed on, its tone venomous yet calm, as if speaking a truth too obvious to deny. ¡°Think of it, Raktabija. The cardinal relic is no mere trinket¡ªit is power incarnate. A force that could rival even your dominion. Will Darvasura simply deliver it to you? Or will he see in it the opportunity to carve his own path? Perhaps he already whispers to the troops of his plans, his¡­ ascension.¡± The demon lord¡¯s mind flicked to Darvasura¡¯s recent conquests¡ªthe zeal with which he tore through the temples of Satyavan, his appetite for destruction insatiable. For the first time, the image of Darvasura wielding the relic formed in his mind: the towering demon clad in shadow and flame, challenging Raktabija¡¯s supremacy with the divine power he sought to control. ¡°No,¡± Raktabija said, shaking his head. ¡°He would not dare. He knows the cost of defiance.¡± ¡°Does he?¡± the Scimitar countered, its tone almost amused. ¡°Or does he see the cracks in your control? The whispers of the North, the meddling Yaksha, the relics you have yet to claim? You spread your forces thin, Raktabija. Perhaps he senses weakness¡­ and waits for his moment.¡± The words struck like a blade. Though he would not admit it, even to himself, Raktabija knew the Scimitar was not entirely wrong. The West was a crucible of power, and Darvasura was an ambitious flame. The cardinal relic could ignite a fire beyond his control. Raktabija turned to the messenger. His crimson eyes burned as he delivered his next command. ¡°Send word to Darvasura: the relic is to remain intact. I will see to it myself soon enough.¡± As the messenger bowed and retreated, Raktabija¡¯s grip on the Scimitar tightened. The blade pulsed, its voice now smooth, almost soothing. ¡°A wise precaution. But will it be enough? Words are wind, Raktabija. Perhaps your hand should guide the relic directly.¡± ¡°Enough!¡± he barked, slamming his claws against the table. The ley lines flickered, dimming momentarily under the weight of his fury. The Scimitar fell silent, though its laughter echoed faintly in his mind. The Scimitar hummed in his hand, its whispers insistent. "More relics, more power. But what of the North? Will you leave this treasure to chance?" Raktabija''s smile faded. The Scimitar¡¯s whispers grew louder, threading doubt into his mind. He needed the Northern relic. Whoever was meddling with the relics, needed to be put to rest, for good. But to allow another cardinal relic to slip through his grasp would be unforgivable. Alone once more, Raktabija gripped the Scimitar tightly, its whispers now a relentless torture in his mind. The Scimitar¡¯s voice softened, its tone almost mocking. "Two relics. Two choices. How far will your shadow stretch, Raktabija? How much power can you hold before it consumes you?" He exhaled sharply, his claws flexing against the weapon¡¯s hilt. "I will hold it all," he muttered, his voice steady but lined with fury. "I will wield the darkness until nothing remains." With one last glance at the map, he turned and strode from the chamber, his cape billowing behind him like wings of shadow. Chapter 103: The Naga Gambit You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Chapter 104: The Phantom Knights of Ashesha You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Chapter 105: The Battle of Satyavan The battlefield beneath the temple of Satyavan roiled with chaos, the acrid stench of burning earth mingling with the metallic tang of blood in the air. Every step of the demonic horde left smoldering craters, the hiss of scorched soil cutting through the shrieks of shadow-bound creatures. Above it all, the temple¡¯s luminous dome pulsed like a heart, its golden light flickering as shadows clawed at its surface. At their head, Darvasura¡¯s massive form loomed like a monument to the darkness. Shadows writhed around him, tendrils of inky blackness slithering and snapping in the air. His bone armor groaned as if alive, jagged and sharp under the corrupted moonlight. His eyes burned with unquenchable ambition as he raised his sword high, a tide of shadow pouring forth to claw at the temple¡¯s luminous barrier. Deep beneath the illusion of the temple, in the hidden sanctuary of Ashesha, Vasunaga coiled tightly in the sanctum, his golden eyes reflecting the ethereal glow of the Resonance Chamber. Beside him, the younger naga Takshaka trembled, his unease palpable. ¡°My lord,¡± Takshaka whispered, his voice tight with disbelief. ¡°The Phantom Knights... They awakened. How is this possible?¡± Vasunaga¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver from the sacred mural on the wall before them. The painted scene depicted King Nahusha, a figure both revered and feared, standing at the convergence of the celestial and earthly realms. ¡°Their power was never lost,¡± Vasunaga replied, his voice low and measured. ¡°It was merely sealed, waiting for the one worthy to awaken it.¡± Takshaka¡¯s voice wavered, a tremor betraying the disbelief that gripped him. ¡°King Nahusha truly believed... someone would come?¡± His serpentine tail quivered, his unease spreading like ripples through the sacred chamber. The faint hum of the mural¡¯s energy seemed to echo the question, as if the ancient paintings themselves demanded an answer. Vasunaga¡¯s golden eyes remained steady, yet there was a flicker of something deeper¡ªa memory, a doubt¡ªbefore his voice rose with calm authority. ¡°He did. And he trusted that the cosmos would guide them here, even if we could not.¡± Takshaka¡¯s gaze darted to the faint cracks in the cosmic barrier above, his throat tightening. ¡°But... what if the cosmos is wrong? What if...¡± His words faltered, caught between fear and reverence, as the distant echoes of the demon general¡¯s roars reached the sanctum. The sound was alien, unfamiliar, and filled with an overwhelming malice that made Takshaka shudder. He turned to Vasunaga, his voice trembling. ¡°If they found the temple of Satyavan, my lord... does it mean that all of Bhu-loka is in danger?¡± ¡°The darkness is not merely an absence of light,¡± Vasunaga said, his jaw tightening. ¡°It is corruption given form, feeding on ambition, despair, and greed. The demon general¡¯s power is unlike anything we have encountered. If such darkness could find the temple of Satyavan, then all of Bhu-loka is at risk.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. He paused, his voice growing heavier. ¡°Another Great War may be upon us, Takshaka. And if that is true, we may once again find ourselves as sacrificial pawns in a game far larger than we can see.¡±
Outside, Darvasura¡¯s roars echoed across the battlefield as he swung his massive blade, striking the barrier again and again. Each blow sent ripples through the dome of light, the cosmic energy flickering under the relentless assault. ¡°I will not be denied!¡± he bellowed, his voice a mix of fury and desperation. ¡°The Cardinal Relic will be mine,¡± he hissed, his jagged teeth bared in a feral grin. ¡°With its power, I shall not only surpass Raktabija¡ªI will eclipse the heavens themselves! No god, no naga, no celestial will deny me my throne!¡± The shadows swirling around him grew thicker, denser, lashing out at the temple. They clawed at the cosmic barrier like a beast straining against its cage. The earth beneath his feet blackened and cracked, the corruption spreading outward, a disease infecting everything it touched.
Above the battlefield, the air shimmered as if torn apart by raw power. A radiant figure descended, her golden armor catching the faintest glimmer of the corrupted moonlight. Cosmic Svetavastra glowed with an unearthly light, her form wreathed in swirling golden cosmic energy. In her hands, a radiant bow gleamed, its string drawn taut with a blazing arrow of pure starlight. The air around her cracked with energy as the arrow released, streaking through the battlefield like a comet unleashed. The strike hit the heart of Darvasura¡¯s shadow, forcing it to recoil and sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The acrid smell of burning shadow filled the air, and for a brief moment, the darkness seemed to falter. But the victory was short-lived. The shadows surged back, coalescing into a towering wave of malevolence. Darvasura¡¯s laughter echoed, a sound that sent chills even to those within the temple. ¡°You dare stand against me, celestial pretender?¡± he snarled, his voice dripping with malice. Cosmic Svetavastra stood unyielding, her gaze fixed on Darvasura.
High above, the skies roared as Shyena, the divine falcon, sliced through the corrupted air with unparalleled grace. Its feathers shimmered like molten gold, catching the flickering light of the cosmic barrier below. Svetavastra¡ªthe real Svetavastra¡ªclung tightly to its reins, the wind whipping through his robes, which glowed faintly from the residual energy of his summoning. ¡°Cosmic Svetavastra is holding him back,¡± Manu said, his voice low but firm, his gaze locked on the chaos below. ¡°But that darkness... it¡¯s alive. It¡¯s feeding on his rage.¡± ¡°Then we strike before it grows stronger.¡± Svetavastra nodded, his expression grim. With a swift motion, he raised his hand, summoning a lance of spiritual energy that pulsed with violet light, casting an otherworldly glow over the falcon¡¯s wings. As Shyena dived, the wind howled like a war cry, and the battlefield below seemed to pause for the briefest moment, as if bracing for what was to come.
In the sanctum below, Vasunaga and Takshaka felt the shift in the battle above. The younger naga¡¯s eyes were wide with a mixture of hope and fear. ¡°Will it be enough?¡± Takshaka asked, his voice barely audible. Vasunaga¡¯s gaze remained steady. ¡°The Resonance Chamber chose its guardian wisely. If the cosmos wills it, their light will prevail.¡± The battlefield erupted into chaos as Shyena swooped low, Svetavastra¡¯s lance cutting through the darkness like a beacon. Below, Darvasura roared, his shadows surging upward to meet the attack. The collision of light and darkness sent shockwaves through the air, forcing both armies to stagger. And in the midst of it all, the faint pulse of the Resonance Chamber quickened, its rhythm echoing like the heartbeat of a world holding its breath. The fate of the temple¡ªand perhaps much more¡ªhung in the balance.