The night after the battle did not feel like a victory.
They had broken divine law—rewritten it—and in doing so, woken something.
The stars overhead trembled ever so slightly. The constellations flickered in new alignments, as if the heavens were rearranging themselves in response.
Luv sat at the edge of a cliff, silver armor dimmed, lightning quiet beneath his skin. The forest below was eerily still. Not a breeze, not a birdcall.
Just the hum… of watching.
---
[The Voice in the Sky]
His golden eyes turned upward. The moon, once pale and whole, now pulsed with an eerie indigo ring.
And then—
"You wore our skin once."
A voice like thunder and whispers filled his ears, yet no one else seemed to hear it.
"You walked our halls. You dined in our light. Yet now you fight us."
Luv didn't move. His jaw tightened.
"You… are not the first to fall. But you will be the first to be cleansed."
A figure took form in the sky above the moon—a silhouette in gold, eyes aflame, crowned in serpentine rings of solar flame.
A god.
Indradiya, one of the ancient celestial enforcers.
"Return to Swarnalok, child. Or we will erase not only you… but the memory of your rebellion."
And then it vanished.
---
Astha walked up quietly behind Luv, his new black-gold outfit trailing behind him like ash from a dying pyre. Smritidhaara was no longer visible, but its presence pulsed faintly from beneath his sleeve.
"You saw something," Astha said.
Luv exhaled. "They know. They're watching."
"Let them."
"He said they'll erase the memory of what we did. Not kill us—just… forget we existed."
Astha's eyes flickered. "Then we become unforgettable."
---
[Elsewhere: Swarnalok Stirred]
Far above mortal planes, in the marble halls of Swarnalok, the gods argued.
Golden pillars cracked from the pressure of divine presence. Names that hadn't been uttered in millennia were now whispered again.
Indradiya stood before the Council of Celestials, his voice clear:
"The Rebellion Script has been used. Not by a god—but by a mortal."
A silence fell.
And then one spoke—shrouded in violet light, hair flowing like a river of time.
"The Ash-Walker must be unmade."
Another chimed in, eyes covered in wax, a god of memory:
"No. Let him come closer. Let him walk into the trap we've woven since before his soul drew breath."
The chamber filled with humming approval.
"Let the Unforgotten guide him… until the moment we burn them all."
---
Naira stood alone at the remnants of the Nameless Room. The shattered talismans floated around her like snow.
She held a new one in her palm—a fresh mantra, gifted by Iksara.
But as she studied it, she began to remember things she hadn't lived.
A city falling. A god weeping. A boy standing in the fire, smiling at her—not Astha, but someone else.
"What is this?" she whispered.
A whisper answered:
"A key to the truth. But truth demands a price."
Her nose bled.
She smiled.
"Then I'll pay it."
---
That night, Astha sat in solitude.
He had rewritten divine law. He had tasted the fire of a forbidden Veda. And yet, his heart whispered one thing louder than all:
You're still not ready.
So he trained. With chain and blade, mantra and flame, until dawn.
For he knew—
Swarnalok would not send messengers next time.
They would send gods.