The dawn after meeting Parshuram Ji painted the forest in golden hues. Aryan and Karna stood at the edge of a cliff where Parshuram Ji had left them the previous night. The air was crisp, filled with the silent weight of expectations. The meeting had changed everything.
Parshuram Ji, after recalling Aryan as the boy he once gifted a lion cub named Simba, had tested both brothers in ways neither expected. He had looked into their eyes, searching for pride or deceit. Finding only honesty and courage, he had given them a trial.
"You both have promise," Guru Ji had said, his voice like thunder rolling through ancient mountains. "But promise means nothing if it's not proven. There is a sacred stone deep within the forest. It glows only for those who carry the weight of dharma and tapasya. You must find it. Not together, but alone. When you do, return to me with what it reveals to you."
The command was clear—this was not just a task, but a spiritual rite.
---
Now, on the second day since their arrival, Aryan sat quietly near a pond. His mind reflected back on the journey to this moment—the blessings from Mahadev, the love of two mothers, the laughter of his sister, and the unwavering support of Karna.
His thoughts wandered to his friends and family.
In Hastinapur, Dushala sat quietly on her swing, gently rocking back and forth, clutching the tricycle Aryan had gifted her. She hadn't laughed the same way since he left. Gandhari watched her from a distance, heart heavy, praying for Aryan's safety like he was her own.
Kunti often walked to the palace balcony where the wind blew from Vrindavan's direction. She still remembered Karna washing the feet of the sage—Suryadev in disguise—and the tears in her eyes had not yet dried.
Duryodhan, now more silent than usual, had turned his focus inward. He trained harder, his words fewer, awaiting the return of the brother he'd accepted in heart, if not yet in name.
Radha Maa and Adhirath lit a lamp every evening outside their hut in Aryan's village. It was Radha's ritual now. She made daal makhani and left a small bowl outside the window, in case Aryan returned hungry.
Vasumati and Aryan's sister, nestled in Vrindavan, spent their mornings helping villagers and their evenings staring at the stars. Aryan's sister was slowly becoming known in the village for her songs—ones Aryan had taught her from Kalyug, now imbued with divinity.
And Simba…
The lion cub was now a full-grown beast in the northern forest, his golden mane shimmering like fire under the sun. He hunted only when needed and meditated when not. Animals bowed to him—not out of fear, but reverence. Narasimha's blood pulsed through him, and Parshuram Ji had left him there to earn his own path.
---
Back in the forest, Aryan walked deeper into the jungle, guided by instinct more than sight. Karna had taken the eastern path, while Aryan chose the west. The terrain was rough, the roots thick, and vines seemed to whisper old truths.
After hours of walking, he came upon a clearing. At its center was a stone—not large, but ancient, pulsating with a faint golden glow.
Aryan stepped forward. The stone remained still.
He placed his hand on it, and suddenly, a vision engulfed him.
He saw his past in Kalyug—his failures, betrayals, and death. He saw his rebirth, the smile of his mother, the warmth of his sister. He saw Krishna's laughter, Parshuram Ji's eyes, and Shiva's silent nod.
Then he saw himself on a throne—not made of gold, but stone and flowers, surrounded not by ministers, but his friends and family. Karna stood beside him, not in his shadow, but as his equal.
When he came to, the stone had melted into light.
A small sigil floated into his palm—a symbol of approval from the forest itself.
He clutched it and whispered, "Thank you."
---
That night, as stars blinked above like the eyes of ancestors, Aryan returned to the cave where Parshuram Ji waited. Karna had returned too, and by the calm on his face, he had passed his own test.
Parshuram Ji sat cross-legged, eyes closed. Without opening them, he spoke.
"You have both returned with truth in your hands and dharma in your hearts. From tomorrow, your real training begins. And it will break every illusion you carry. Are you ready to die, not once, but a hundred times before you are reborn into warriors of dharma?"
Aryan and Karna nodded.
"Good," Guru Ji said. "Then sleep. Tonight is your last night as boys. Tomorrow, you begin walking the path of legends."
Outside the cave, a breeze stirred the branches. Somewhere, far away, Vasumati hummed a lullaby under her breath. Gandhari, in the palace, clutched a scarf Aryan had left behind. And Simba, deep in the forest, raised his head toward the sky and let out a roar that echoed through mountains.
The world was changing. And its children were rising.
> SYSTEM UPDATE – ARYAN Trial of Stone Completed – Inner Truth Unlocked Sigil of Forest Light – Acquired Training Initiation: Parshuram Ji's Path of Dharma Begins