The land ahead was open and wide.
Where forests and villages had once stood, there were now long stretches of wet earth, broken tree trunks, and shallow pools of water that reflected the pale morning sky. The smell of mud and new grass filled the air.
Ganesh, Aneet, and Keral walked in silence for a long time after leaving the survivors behind.
Each step felt heavy.
Not from exhaustion alone, but from everything they had seen.
Keral finally broke the quiet. "I thought surviving a flood would feel like victory," he said. "But it feels more like standing in the ruins after a battle."
Ganesh nodded. "Because survival isn't the end. It's only the chance to begin again."
Aneet looked ahead. "And beginnings are always uncertain."
They kept walking.
As the sun rose higher, they began to see signs of life returning.
Small birds landed on broken branches, shaking water from their wings. Tiny green shoots pushed through the mud where seeds had survived beneath the flood.
Aneet stopped to look at one.
"Life doesn't wait for permission," she said. "It just starts again."
Ganesh smiled faintly. "That's why it keeps winning."
They moved on, following a faint path where the ground was firmer.
By midday, they reached what had once been a farming settlement. Only a few stone foundations remained. The rest had been swept away.
Ganesh walked slowly through it, remembering the people they might have met if the flood had never come.
"We'll see many places like this," he said quietly. "We can't stop at all of them."
"I know," Aneet replied. "But we should stop at some."
Keral nodded. "If there are survivors, they'll need help."
They did find people.
Near a half-collapsed stone wall, a small group had gathered — three men, two women, and a boy. They looked thin and tired, their clothes still wet and muddy.
One of the men raised a stick when he saw them approach.
"Stay back," he warned. "We have nothing to give."
Ganesh raised both hands. "We didn't come to take anything," he said. "We came to see if you needed help."
The man hesitated, then lowered the stick.
"We lost everything," he said. "Food, animals, homes. We don't even know where to go."
Aneet stepped forward. "You're not alone," she said. "Others survived too. There are groups rebuilding not far from here."
She pointed back toward the valley they had left.
The woman looked at her with tired eyes. "We're too weak to travel far."
Ganesh knelt and checked the boy, who was coughing badly.
"He's sick," he said. "Cold and exhaustion. He needs warmth and rest."
Keral quickly gathered dry wood and built a small fire. Aneet shared some of the grain they had been given.
They stayed with the group for hours, helping them recover.
Ganesh showed them how to build a simple shelter from fallen branches and cloth. Aneet cleaned the boy's face and wrapped him in dry fabric.
By the time the sun began to fall, the group looked stronger.
"Follow the stream to the east tomorrow," Ganesh told them. "You'll find higher ground and others like you."
The man nodded gratefully. "Thank you. We thought the world had forgotten us."
Ganesh replied simply, "It hasn't."
That evening, they camped near a cluster of rocks that broke the wind.
Aneet prepared a small meal from what little they had. Keral sat nearby, sharpening his blade more out of habit than need.
Ganesh stared into the small fire.
"I keep thinking about Manu and the ark," he said. "About how one group is starting fresh somewhere safe while the rest of the world struggles like this."
Aneet answered, "Both paths are needed. One to carry the seed. One to rebuild the field."
Keral said, "And we chose the harder one."
Ganesh smiled faintly. "Yes. But also the one that feels right."
They ate in silence.
Above them, the sky was clear, full of stars.
For the first time since the flood, Ganesh felt truly tired.
The next day, they walked again.
They crossed shallow rivers that had changed their courses. They climbed over fallen trees. They passed stretches of land where nothing remained but mud and stones.
But they also saw more green pushing through.
More birds.
More signs that the world was not done yet.
By midday, they reached a wide plain where the floodwaters had left behind deep cracks in the ground.
Suddenly, Keral raised a hand.
"Wait," he said. "Do you hear that?"
At first, Ganesh heard nothing.
Then he listened more closely.
Voices.
Faint.
Calling for help.
They followed the sound and found a group of survivors trapped in a deep crack in the earth — a mother, her daughter, and an old man who could barely stand.
The sides were too steep for them to climb.
Without hesitation, Keral lay flat and reached down, bracing himself against a rock.
"Grab my arm," he shouted.
Ganesh anchored him from behind, pressing his foot into the ground to keep them both steady.
One by one, Aneet guided the trapped people as they climbed up, helping them find their balance.
When the last one was safe, the old man fell to his knees.
"May the gods bless you," he said.
Ganesh shook his head gently. "Just live. That's blessing enough."
They showed the family which direction to walk to reach safer land and watched until they were out of sight.
Later that afternoon, Ganesh slowed his steps.
Aneet noticed at once. "You're tired," she said.
He nodded. "More than I expected. Holding back during the flood took more out of me than I realized."
She studied him. "We can rest."
He hesitated. "Others may need help."
"And you need strength to help them," she replied. "You're not endless."
Ganesh smiled. "Sometimes I forget that."
They stopped near a small rise where grass had begun to grow again and rested.
Ganesh sat with his back against a stone.
For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes.
The fire within him burned low and steady, not demanding, just present.
Aneet sat beside him, keeping watch.
Keral stood a little distance away, scanning the land.
For once, no one spoke.
When Ganesh opened his eyes again, the sun was already lower.
"I needed that," he admitted.
Aneet smiled. "Good."
Keral turned to them. "There's smoke to the north," he said. "Someone else is out there."
Ganesh stood. "Then we walk."
As they moved toward the smoke, Ganesh spoke quietly.
"The flood showed me something," he said. "I can change much… but I shouldn't change everything."
Aneet nodded. "Because then it wouldn't be the world anymore. It would be your design."
"Yes," he said. "And that's not why I walk."
Keral added, "Where I come from, power is taken and used. You carry power and refuse to rule with it. That's new to me."
Ganesh replied, "I don't want followers. I want a world that can stand without me."
They reached a small camp where two families had made a fire. The people looked frightened when they saw them, but relaxed when Aneet spoke kindly.
Again, they listened.
Again, they helped.
Again, they moved on.
As night approached, they made camp near a shallow stream.
The water was clear, flowing gently as if nothing terrible had ever happened.
Ganesh washed his hands and face, watching the ripples fade.
"This stream didn't exist before," he said. "The flood made it."
Aneet replied, "Not everything it leaves behind is ruin."
They sat by the fire as darkness settled.
Keral looked at the two of them. "You know," he said, "I walked with you thinking I was choosing a road without banners. But now I think I chose a road with endless work."
Ganesh smiled. "Yes. That's exactly it."
Keral laughed quietly. "Then I'm glad I did."
Before sleeping, Ganesh looked up at the stars.
He thought of Matsya, of Manu, of the ark somewhere far away, carrying the seed of a new world.
He also thought of the people here, struggling, rebuilding with their own hands.
Both paths mattered.
Aneet sat beside him.
"We'll keep walking," she said. "That's all we can promise."
Ganesh nodded. "And that will be enough."
They lay down to rest, the soft sound of water nearby and the quiet breathing of a world beginning again.
The flood was over.
But their journey through Satya Yuga had truly begun.