[The Sky Trembles]
The first sign was not fire or thunder.
It was silence.
A silence so pure, it shaved the noise from reality itself. The winds halted. The chants of distant priest-monks in the upper spires of Svarloka turned to blood. Insects froze mid-flight. A child's prayer turned to stone in his throat.
And in the western sky, behind the smoldering curve of Vaithra's horizon, a black arc began to rise.
It wasn't a shape. It wasn't even light.
It was absence.
The absence of mercy. Of delay. Of fate.
Luv watched it through narrowed golden eyes. His fingers sparked nervously.
"…He's coming, isn't he?" Naira whispered.
Astha didn't blink.
"He's already here."
---
[The First Slash]
Without warning, a line split through the sand plain twenty kilometers south of them. Not a trench—just a gap in space, cut so cleanly that it didn't collapse.
A moment later, everything within that line—rock, sand, skeleton, and wind—disappeared.
Gone.
Luv clutched his dagger tighter. "What kind of blade does that?"
"Not a blade," Astha said. "A verdict."
Smritidhaara coiled tighter around his forearm. Its tips were glowing—brighter than Astha had ever seen them. Almost trembling.
"Even it's afraid…" Naira muttered.
Astha turned to her.
"Run."
"What?"
"Take the eastern ridge. There's a seal-field three klicks out. Reinforce it. Do not stop until it's complete."
She hesitated.
Luv touched her arm. "We'll hold this line."
Naira nodded, swallowed, and vanished in a flash of mantra-light.
---
[The Arrival]
The sky split.
It didn't thunder. It didn't scream. It simply unzipped.
And from it stepped a figure in robes darker than shadow, with a mask of molten stone and a curved blade forged from the spine of a god.
He didn't fly. He didn't hover.
He walked across the air, step by step, as if reality had no right to deny him purchase.
Astha exhaled slowly.
"That's not Sharvaka," he said.
Luv cocked his head. "Then who—"
"A herald. A fragment. A prelude."
The figure stopped just meters away. No mouth moved, but the voice arrived like a confession whispered into their ears by a lover of death.
"Ash-Walker. Thunder-Spawn. You have trespassed beyond erasure."
"You hold weapons meant to seal gods."
"Sharvaka has taken notice."
It raised its blade.
"Bleed. That he may watch."
---
[The Clash Begins]
The air warped as the herald lunged, slashing downward. Astha met it head-on with Vaayutal, its blade resonating with ancient wind and molten scripture. The two weapons clashed—and time skipped.
A second vanished.
When it returned, Luv was already in the air, lightning wreathing his arm as he brought down a crackling hammerblow. It struck the Herald's shoulder—cracking the outer shell, but the entity didn't stagger. It pivoted, carving a red glyph mid-air—
ZAHM!
A ripple tore through Luv's armor, sending him hurtling into the dunes.
Astha activated Smritidhaara's flame-link—Vikara Mode. The triple-sickle spun around his body, intercepting the second strike mid-arc and wrapping around the Herald's blade with a shriek of metal and memory.
He spoke through clenched teeth.
"You think I'm afraid of death?"
The Herald didn't respond. Instead, its mask cracked slightly—revealing a sliver of black fire inside.
"You should fear what survives it."
---
[Echoes and Blood]
Astha used the chain to pull the Herald forward and drove his knee into its sternum—shattering something inside. It gurgled but countered immediately, its elbow slamming into his jaw.
Blood sprayed across the sand.
Astha grinned through it. "Good."
He grabbed the Herald's wrist—Smritidhaara igniting—and whispered a mantra into its mask:
"Let this chain bind the echo of your sins."
A pulse shot through the Herald's form. The memories trapped in Smritidhaara surged forward—flashes of forgotten lives, slain deities, crumbling realms. It faltered.
Then—
CRACK!
Luv returned, wrapped in a storm cloak of divine lightning, his hand plunged into the sky. Thunder answered.
He hurled a jagged bolt the size of a war elephant. It struck the Herald square in the chest—
—and finally, it screamed.
Astha and Luv charged together, their weapons singing.
---
[Aftermath]
The Herald fell, body turning to sand and black petals. No corpse remained. Just the blade.
It hovered in place, then slowly sank into the ground, embedding itself into the bone of the earth.
Astha approached it. Smritidhaara pulsed.
Luv wiped blood from his chin. "You think we just pissed off the real one?"
Astha didn't answer.
From the horizon, a second line cracked open in the air. Then a third.
Then seven.
Luv's face darkened.
"Tell me that's just atmospheric backlash."
Astha looked down at the Herald's final glyph, burning in the sand.
And whispered:
"No.
That was just his breath."