It was midnight when he reached his destination — Nagarā, the city that refused to sleep. Lamps burned in every direction, dripping gold across the streets like constellations pulled down to earth. Even the people glowed; they wore bright colours — mostly red — making the night look like dawn trapped inside silk.
For Velan Dayanandh, it had been twenty-seven days since he entered the Kaalam — that divine realm where time was supposed to flow in a clean, obedient line. Yet it was broken then. Bringing him from 2789 CE to a time nearly three thousand years earlier.
He stood still for a moment, overwhelmed. Nagarā at midnight felt more alive than his own present. Merchants shouted over each other. Buyers haggled with hands and eyebrows. Goods were exchanged for goods — no coins, no currency, just trade in its rawest form. The air tasted of spice, smoke and salt.
Above all of it, the moon hung full and sharp, bright enough to paint shadows. It didn't feel like night. It felt like the world had paused just to greet him.
Velan stepped through the city gate, dressed in a black vētti and a loose scarf draped around his neck. He blended in more easily than he expected. Ancient or not, a man in black was invisible in a crowd this loud.
To his right, beside the gate, a fisherman-merchant squatted beside a shallow puddle where live fish swam in slow circles. Velan paused. Then his breath hitched.
Venpavalā.
A creature extinct in his own time, here swimming under lamplight as casually as a carp. Long like an eel, white as pearls, its scales shimmered with a soft fluorescence — absorbing the sunlight of the day, releasing it now in gentle waves. Its blind-looking eyes gave it an almost sacred dignity. The merchant's face glowed blue from the creature's radiance.
No wonder this thing became the crest of the Bāndhas, Velan thought.
And he wasn't wrong. Killing or eating a Venpavalā was a crime punishable by death. Yet here it was, alive and divine, waiting for someone worthy.
"How much for one?" Velan asked, opening his palm. Pearls rolled forward — smooth, perfect, hypnotic.
The merchant's eyes widened. "Those are flawless…" He swallowed. "Two pearls for one Venpavalā."
Velan handed them over without hesitation.
He didn't buy the fish for its beauty — though its beauty was undeniable. Venpavalā held abilities most people of this age didn't even know existed. Two pearls were a steep price, but worth it.
This was one of the reasons he'd come to Nagarā. And he hadn't expected it to fall into his hands so easily.
Now came the second reason — the harder one. But he must complete the mission or his present would be in grave danger. That was what his master had said.
He needed the Venpavalā to refill his copper kada, the relic that allowed him to enter the forbidden depths of Kaalam, where only one being held dominion:
King Yaali.
A monstrous being — two arms, four legs, the body of a lion, and human-like arms ending in claws. Instead of a nose, it bore tusks and a curling trunk like an elephant's. Yaali was the keeper of time itself, a judge older than kingdoms.
If Velan refills energy of his copper kada, the second mission would be done.
He must do it for the sake of the existence of future. The mission his master gave him was to... kill the king of Bāndhas.