Thunder. But not the natural kind. It sounded like metal grinding against the sky. Then came the flash—white and blinding. Prince Singh blinked. Once. Twice. But the world he opened his eyes to was not the one he remembered.
Just moments ago, he was sixteen years old, walking home from school. His headphones played lo-fi beats as the city buzzed around him. He turned into a narrow alleyway, his usual shortcut. A strange pulse of light flickered in his peripheral vision. And then—silence. No traffic, no horns, no shouting vendors.
Now he stood barefoot on damp soil.
A breeze carried the scent of pine and sweet grass. The sun above glowed larger and softer than the one he knew. The buildings of Delhi were gone. In their place: endless trees, rolling hills, and—far in the distance—a city with towering walls and ancient architecture.
He was near a city, but not any city he recognized. Something inside told him this place was not his home.
Singh's mind struggled to process it. He looked down at himself. His school uniform had vanished. In its place, a sleek black tunic clung to his lean frame, edged with golden thread. It looked royal, almost ceremonial. A small badge shimmered on his chest, engraved with symbols he couldn't read.
"What the hell...?" he whispered, touching his face, then the strange cloth.
Suddenly, he stumbled, gripping a tree. A pressure built in his chest—like something wanted to break out. A warmth spiraled from his spine, rising into his skull. His breath came in sharp bursts.
He collapsed to his knees.
Visions flashed behind his eyes: a burning lotus, golden petals unfolding under a thousand suns. Whispers in a forgotten tongue echoed in his mind.
Then silence.
The warmth in his chest pulsed once—and a shape bloomed above his shoulder. Faint, translucent, but real.
A lotus. Unlike anything natural. It glowed with radiant heat, its petals shifting between gold and flame. It hovered there, rotating slowly.
"Martial Spirit..." a voice said behind him.
Singh turned quickly. A man stood a few meters away, dressed in long silver robes. He looked like a wandering scholar, but the way he held himself radiated strength.
"I felt the awakening from the city," the man continued, stepping closer. "You awakened it without help. No guide. No Spirit Hall. No ceremony. Impressive... and dangerous."
Singh said nothing, instinctively keeping quiet. The man studied him closely.
"You're not registered. And yet your spirit..." He gestured toward the burning lotus. "That hasn't been seen in generations."
Singh swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent.
The man sighed. "What's your name, boy?"
"Prince. Prince Singh."
"Well, Prince Singh," the man said, his tone softening, "you've awakened the Eternal Sun Lotus. A spirit of ancient flame and light. Its last wielder was a legend—and died surrounded by a hundred enemies."
Singh stood slowly, still watching the man's every movement. "What... happens now?"
"That depends," the man replied. "Can you control it? Will it consume you—or lift you?"
The lotus flared for a moment—its glow intensifying.
The man raised a brow. "You're sixteen, aren't you? Right on time. Come. You must be tested."
"Tested?" Singh asked.
"You're near the outer gates of Starfire City. I'll take you to the Awakening Pavilion. Spirit Hall will want to see this for themselves."
Singh hesitated. But something in him—a quiet, intelligent instinct—told him to follow. Not just out of caution. But curiosity.
And maybe... destiny.
As he walked alongside the mysterious man, Singh looked once more at the fiery lotus hovering beside him.
He didn't understand it yet. But it was part of him now.
And he had a feeling this world would never be the same again.