The room was filled with the faint hum of energy as the last shimmer of blue light faded from the glass sphere. Ramakanth leaned back, his eyes tired but satisfied."See, my son," he said softly. "I have shown you the first birth of yours and mine. The glass ball was meant to work for one hour, but I extended its time. It lasted one and a half."He paused, running a wrinkled hand over the orb. "We cannot see further for now. The power needs to rest."
Prabhas nodded, though his thoughts were far away. The images he had witnessed,faces from another life, voices calling across centuries, swirled inside him like an unfinished dream. He lay down beside his father, but sleep brought him no peace.That night, the dream returned.
He saw her again, his wife. Her face glowed in the half-light, eyes pleading through an invisible veil. "Prabhas," her voice echoed through the dream escape, "give me a body. I need to complete the mission I failed in life." Her hands stretched out toward him, yet something dark and heavy, like chains forged from shadow, pulled her back. He reached for her, but before he could touch her, she vanished into mist.
Prabhas gasped and sat up. Dawn had already broken. The dream left his heart pounding, his mind buzzing with questions. Who was she before? What mission had she failed? And why was her soul still trapped? He got ready and left for the Institute, his thoughts tangled between the fragments of last night's vision and the haunting plea of his wife's soul. The streets were unusually quiet, the new world bathed in pale orange light filtering through the hazy sky.
When he reached the Institute, he noticed something strange. The corridors were silent, the staffroom empty. A distant murmur drew him toward the conference hall. As soon as he stepped inside, applause erupted. "Congratulations, Professor Prabhas!" His colleagues surrounded him with smiles and pats on the back. Bewildered, he turned toward the head of the institute, who stood by the large window, sipping tea.
It was Mr. Peter Parker, the man who once redefined writing itself. "You've done well," Parker said warmly. "Sit down, my boy. Tea or coffee?" "I don't need anything, sir," Prabhas replied, still confused. "What on earth is going on here?"
Parker chuckled. "Last week, when you took that history class, remember? Your students came to my office early this morning. They said your lecture changed the way they saw the world. They want you as their permanent history teacher. That's quite something in this age, isn't it? "Prabhas blinked, unsure what to say.
Parker set down his cup. "You see, history has always been my weakness. I've preserved old books, records, journals, what little survived the destruction. During the great war, both sides burned knowledge, thinking it gave them power. But power built on ignorance always collapses."He walked to the shelf and drew out a worn book. "These texts speak of ancient civilizations, truths forgotten by machines and rewritten by survivors. You may find answers here."
Prabhas accepted the book with quiet reverence. Parker smiled faintly. "You know, I was the man who invented Parker Pens. But after the war, I took all the wealth I had left and built this institute. The world may have forgotten to write, but I refuse to let humanity lose its words. My dream is simple, to bring back the world of pens."
Prabhas looked up. "Sir… my dream is the same. I want to recreate a new world, one without war, without division. A world of peace and prosperity." "Ah," Parker sighed, his eyes distant. "If only dreams could save us." "Do you believe in fate, sir?" Prabhas asked. Parker turned toward him. "I do. And fate, my boy, is the cruelest teacher. Governments tried to stop the third world war. Treaties were signed, promises made, but chaos was stronger than words. The war ended not with victory, but with extinction. Humanity wrote its own end."
Prabhas absorbed every word, the truth burning inside him. In this new world, rebuilt by remnants of humanity and robots, he knew what Parker meant. The young generation was growing without history, without memory. Without meaning. Parker placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go ahead, Prabhas. Teach them. Be the torchbearer. I'll provide the path." With that, Prabhas left the office, heart heavy yet burning with a new resolve.
In the classroom, the children looked up eagerly as he entered. Their eyes were bright, hungry to learn. "My dear students," he began, smiling softly, "thank you for believing in me. Today, we talk about the first civilizations, the dawn of humanity itself."
He drew a line on the board. "Civilization began when ancient humans stopped wandering and started to build. They learned to live, to think, to create." He paused, looking at the faces before him. "Millions of years ago, ape-like beings roamed the earth. Over time, they evolved, slowly, painfully, adapting to storms, hunger, and fire. Nature tested them, reshaped them. Few survived. But those who did… became us."
He spoke of the discovery of fire, of the first cooked meal, of the first tools crafted from stone. The class was silent, captivated. "The history of mankind," Prabhas said, "is not just about survival, it's about awakening." When the bell rang, the children groaned, unwilling to leave. Prabhas smiled. "That's enough for today. History takes time. Let it grow within you."
As he walked back home, the echoes of Parker's words followed him. Make the children hold pens again. Yes, that was the real mission, restoring what made humans human. After dinner, he found Ramakanth waiting beside the glass sphere again. "Father," Prabhas said, "are we going back?"
Ramakanth nodded silently and placed his palm over the orb. The air shimmered, light spilling across the room. The mist thickened, and a new vision appeared. This time, the scene was a vast garden under twin moons. A young man and woman walked hand in hand beneath glowing trees. Prabhas leaned closer.
"It's… the demon lord, Troy," he murmured. "But who is she?" The girl's laughter floated through the air, soft and pure. "My lord," she whispered, "my brother saw me leaving the castle. He will come after me." Troy brushed a hand across her cheek. "Let him come. I will face him." Moments later, heavy footsteps echoed outside the gates. The girl froze. "He's here!"
The door burst open, revealing a tall man with blazing eyes. "Sister!" he shouted. "How dare you sneak away to meet him?" Troy stood firm. "Let him speak." The man entered, anger giving way to disbelief. "Troy… you? My friend?" The girl stepped forward, trembling. "Brother, please listen. I love him. We love each other. I wish to marry him." The brother—Drone, stared at her, speechless. His gaze shifted to Troy. "Is this true?"
Troy bowed his head. "Yes. Though peace exists between heaven and the demon realm, our union is forbidden. But she made me believe that love can bridge even realms. I cannot turn away now." Drone's face hardened, torn between loyalty and blood. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken fear. And then, everything went dark. The vision shattered like glass. Prabhas gasped, clutching his chest. "Father… what was that?" Ramakanth's eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. "Another life. Another beginning. Our souls were bound long before this age began." "But… what happened next?" Prabhas whispered.
Ramakanth didn't answer. The glass orb flickered weakly, its power draining fast. "We will know soon," he said. "But beware, my son, the next story may change everything you believe." The orb went black.
Author's Note
My dear readers,Many of you said the story feels confusing—so let me guide you for a moment.
This world is the year 2090, a time after the Third World War that began in 2070 between America and Russia. The war destroyed everything, nations, nature, and nearly all of humanity. Nuclear fire turned cities to dust. Robots inherited the earth. Oxygen became rare. Petrol, electricity, even cooking oil, precious and limited.
Only a few survivors remained, scientists and refugees. Among them were Ramakanth and Prabhas, who began rebuilding life. Ramakanth achieved the power to speak with God; Prabhas, haunted by the spirit of his wife, seeks the reason her soul still lingers on Earth.
Through witchcraft and the glass sphere, they can see their past lives, uncovering the missions left incomplete across seven births. Each vision reveals a piece of who they once were, angel, demon, human, and why fate keeps pulling them back together.
Now they work alongside Mr. Peter Parker, the man who preserved knowledge and founded the new Institute of Education. Together, they try to restore human history, teaching new generations born from science, tube babies, about a world that once was.
The story moves between past and present, each life revealing a hidden truth that connects them all. But the next vision, the one Ramakanth fears, will uncover something darker.A betrayal that began in the heavens… and echoes even in the new world. Will Prabhas discover who his wife truly was in their first life? Or will the truth destroy everything he stands for?