The great chamber of the Divine Conclave stood shrouded in silence. The scent of incense clung to the walls of the crystalline hall, and only the fluttering of divine robes broke the stillness. The goddesses stood with furrowed brows and tense shoulders. What had once been unshakable belief in the Supreme Being now twisted into fear, confusion, and for a few—rebellion.
Ash, having vanished into thin air after issuing his devastating order, left the world teetering on the brink of destruction.
Back in the mortal capital of Orvantiya, Akarshan, Shiv, Anuj, Shivam, and Monish huddled in a sealed chamber, isolated from the priests and soldiers. Each of their faces showed different storms—fear, anger, disbelief. Akarshan, ever observant, clenched his fists.
"Ash… he's not just a hero. He's something else. No one talks to gods like that," he muttered.
"A Supreme Being," whispered Monish, his voice dry. "Did you hear the demon lord? She called him Father."
The others stayed silent. How could a friend who walked beside them, shared meals, laughed, and studied with them… suddenly become the architect of gods and demons?
In the skies above the Divine Realm, chaos unfurled.
The Goddess of Fire, Agnika, stepped forward from the circle of deities, her blazing eyes fixed on the Demon Lord Ravana, who knelt solemnly.
"You speak of Father's will… yet what if that will has been tainted by the passage of eternity?" Agnika's voice crackled like embers. "We were created from his light, but are we slaves to his whims?"
Ravana rose, power radiating from her obsidian armor. "You were created to build. I was created to balance. And balance demands obedience to the Supreme Order."
Goddess of Life, Jeevika, interrupted. "If Ash truly is our creator reborn, his mind may still be clouded by mortal perception. Do we follow him blindly? Or protect the very world he helped us create?"
Suddenly, the great divine mirror shimmered. An image of Ash's palace appeared—a towering black citadel above a sea of stars, suspended in a rift between time and space. It pulsed as if awakening.
Meanwhile, within that palace, Ash stood alone, surrounded by hundreds of floating golden tomes—the Chronicles of Creation. They whispered secrets to him.
Names of long-lost beings. Histories erased. Failures. Rebellions. Love. Regret.
His own voice echoed from within the walls, speaking from memories that didn't belong to this life.
"They called me a god, but even gods were created by something. I... am the last of my kind. The last Supreme Being. The others… they fell to madness or turned against the universe itself."
Then another voice echoed—older, rasping, like wind across ancient stone.
"You returned before the balance was ready. The cycle has broken."
Ash's eyes glowed silver. He raised his hand. The entire chamber of stars began rotating.
Back on the ground, Akarshan suddenly clutched his head, gasping.
"Ash… he's remembering everything."
The gods, the mortals, the world—they all stood on the cusp of a storm that would either cleanse existence or consume it.
And Ash… would have to decide whether to uphold his old order or break it to save what he once vowed to destroy.
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