Mount Mandara kept turning.
The Ocean of Milk glowed brighter with every pull of Vasuki, its waves now streaked with gold and blue, as if the depths themselves were filling with light. The air grew warm and heavy, charged with anticipation.
Ganesh felt it clearly.
"The nectar is near," he said to Aneet. "The ocean is gathering its answer."
Aneet nodded. "And so are the hearts of those who wait for it."
On both shores, devas and asuras leaned forward whenever the whirlpool surged, eyes fixed on the glowing center.
Fatigue had not left them, but desire had replaced it.
Then the ocean heaved.
A sudden burst of light shot upward from the heart of the whirlpool, forcing all to shield their eyes.
From the glowing waters rose a radiant figure, carrying in his hands a golden vessel that shone like captured sunlight.
It was Dhanvantari, divine healer, physician of the gods.
The vessel he bore overflowed with a soft, luminous glow.
Amrita.
A hush fell across the shores.
Even the churning slowed as if the world itself paused to witness the moment.
Dhanvantari stood upon the ocean's surface, calm and steady, holding the pot before him.
Ganesh felt the fire within him stir, not in hunger, but in warning.
"This is it," he whispered. "The moment that decides what this age will become."
A roar broke the silence.
The asuras surged forward first.
Mahabali stepped ahead of his people, eyes blazing.
"There!" he called. "The nectar rises from the ocean we all churned! It belongs to all who bore this task!"
Asuras shouted in agreement.
Indra moved forward at once, his vajra gleaming.
"Stand back!" he thundered. "If amrita falls into wrong hands, the worlds will drown in chaos!"
Devas rallied behind him.
The two sides faced each other across the glowing shore, tension sharp as drawn blades.
Ganesh stepped between them, raising both hands.
"Stop," he said firmly. "If this turns into a struggle now, all that came before will be wasted."
Mahabali pointed toward the glowing vessel. "You said we would be equals in this task. Will you now tell us to watch while devas take everything?"
Indra answered sharply, "And will you swear that immortality in asura hands will not become endless war?"
Their voices clashed.
The rope trembled as pulls faltered.
Vasuki hissed, "Keep your grips! Do not let your anger slacken the rope!"
Ganesh turned to Indra first.
"You fear the asuras," he said. "But fear is not dharma. If you take amrita only because you are afraid, what kind of eternity will you protect?"
Indra clenched his fists. "If we fall, Svarga falls. If Svarga falls, order falls! I will not gamble the cosmos on trust!"
Ganesh nodded slowly. "Then you speak for order… but not yet for justice."
He turned to Mahabali.
"You speak of equality," Ganesh said. "But if amrita becomes a reward for effort alone, then strength will always rule. Is that the world you seek to make eternal?"
Mahabali's jaw tightened. "We have always been denied. Today, for once, the ocean itself offers us a chance. Should we step aside again?"
Ganesh answered, "No. But neither should you step over everyone else to claim it."
The tension thickened.
Aneet stepped forward, her voice calm but carrying.
"Listen to yourselves," she said. "You speak as if amrita is victory. But amrita is not a crown. It is a mirror."
They both looked at her.
She continued, "It will not change who you are. It will freeze you as you are. So ask yourselves — is what you are now worthy of never ending?"
Silence fell for a moment.
Some devas lowered their eyes.
Some asuras looked away.
Aneet turned slowly, addressing both sides.
"Mortality forces humility. It forces learning. Eternity without growth is only endless repetition of the same flaws."
Her words hung in the air.
Dhanvantari remained still upon the ocean, watching, as if waiting for their hearts to speak before he moved.
Then Vishnu stepped forward, his voice calm and steady.
"The nectar has risen because it must," he said. "What you choose to do now will reveal the nature of this age. I will not command you."
Indra looked at Vishnu. "Lord, if you do not guide us, chaos will rule this moment!"
Vishnu replied gently, "Sometimes, chaos reveals truth faster than order ever could."
Ganesh felt the weight of that.
High above, Shiva stood, silent, his blue throat glowing softly, Sati beside him.
For a long time, he did not speak.
Then his voice rolled across the shore, deep and still.
"You saw poison rise first," Shiva said. "Yet none of you asked to drink it. You only found your voices when sweetness appeared."
The words struck like thunder.
Shiva continued, "If you will not face destruction for others, do not claim immortality for yourselves."
He fell silent again.
Ganesh felt the fire within him bow deeply.
Mahabali broke the silence.
"You speak of dharma," he said to Ganesh. "Then tell us, walker — what is dharma here?"
Ganesh closed his eyes briefly, then spoke.
"Dharma here is not about who deserves amrita," he said. "It is about whether anyone does."
He opened his eyes.
"If immortality becomes a prize, then the first thing it will kill is dharma itself. Eternal life in hands of desire will mean eternal conflict."
He looked at both sides.
"Ask yourselves not who should drink… but why you wish to."
The shore was utterly silent now.
Only the ocean churned.
Dhanvantari lifted the pot slightly.
The glow brightened.
"The time to choose comes," he said calmly.
Ganesh felt a cold certainty.
"This debate will not end in agreement," he whispered to Aneet.
Aneet replied softly, "No. It will end in a turning."
Across the shore, eyes sharpened.
Hands tightened.
Desire stirred.
And though words still hung in the air, Ganesh could already sense it —
The moment of choice would not be made by debate alone.