They did not share just one original language between them, but they did share one profound, terrifying, and tension-filled vibration of circumstance. Their questions hung in the strange air, a chorus of shared disorientation:
"Who are you?"
"How did we get here?"
"Are you… a god?"
Am I a god? Is that what I am now? That I have to be the one to protect them? Vijay mumbled to himself, the thought a faint, internal tremor.
Seeking to impose calm upon his own racing mind, Vijay silently repeated their questions in his head. What struck him most deeply—what had embedded itself in his psyche—was the profound respect inherent in their confusion, their wariness, their fear. It was not blind panic, but a cautious, intelligent terror, and that made it all the more compelling.
For no discernible reason, two people had mysteriously appeared here, beneath this cosmic Banyan tree. Wait a minute, a sudden, absurd thought interrupted him. Who even planted a Banyan tree in this realm? And a talking one, at that? How did these two get here?
He directed the last thought not at the strangers, but at the ancient tree itself. In response, the tree showed him—not with words, but with a sudden influx of vision—a glimpse from above. He saw the moment the woman tumbled through a high window, and the moment the man was engulfed by a raging sea.
Witnessing this through the tree's sight, the man, Arpudhan, turned to Vijay, his voice tight. "Have we died? Is this… Svargam? Heaven?"
Adhirai began to weep softly, a raw sound of despair. "Can we never return to our world?" she asked, her voice breaking with agony.
In that moment, a wave of pity washed over Vijay's heart. Yet, he remained silent, offering no comfort. Then, a voice, audible only to him, whispered from the tree: They can return. He understood the message was for him alone; they could not hear the tree. It speaks only to me.
"Don't worry," Vijay finally said aloud, his voice steady. "You can return home."
Relief, sweet and immediate, blossomed within them. But as their initial fear receded, their fundamental questions began to surface once more. "Who are you, sir?"
Vijay retreated into silence again. Before him, two paths materialized in his mind:
The first: I'm just a man like you. Admit it.
The second: Don't tell them I'm human. Withhold the details. We can use this.
Time was a luxury he did not have. He grasped the thought that felt most instinctive, most advantageous. He chose the second path. He would exploit their state of mind, selecting the course that promised maximum benefit for himself.
After a few seconds of loaded silence, Vijay began to laugh softly. It was not a light sound, but one that seemed to rise from a deep, resonant place within. He spoke calmly, as if addressing honored, if unexpected, guests.
"I am not a god," he said. "Your arrival here… was a try."
"A try ?" Adhirai echoed.
She stared at the enigmatic man partially veiled by the shimmering cosmic river. Her mind reeled. This was absurd, ludicrous, terrifying, wondrous—all at once.
Just moments ago, she had been at her dressing table in her bedroom. She remembered slipping, falling through the window… and then, in the blink of an eye, "arriving" here, beside this majestic tree and this ethereal river.
It was utterly unbelievable.
Adhirai drew in a sharp breath. Forcing a respectful, if confused, smile, she asked, "Sir, has that attempt concluded? What is this place? If your attempt is finished, may we return now?"
Aripudhan watched, considering testing this strange host. But his experience counseled patience. He chose stillness, becoming a silent observer, holding his questions back.
Vijay studied the questioner. Long, dark hair, a tall frame. She would be strikingly beautiful, but her face was obscured by a shimmering, hazy imprint—the sign of Libra. He then looked at the man. Unruly black hair, medium build, his features similarly masked by the imprint of Capricorn. Vijay glanced subtly behind him, where his own cosmic constellation, that of Leo, glowed faintly.
A sudden intuition dawned on him: if his power grew, or if his understanding of this cosmic realm deepened, he could pierce through these imprints and see their true faces.
In this situation, they were the visitors.
He was the master of this domain.
This shift in perspective sharpened his senses, revealing details he had missed before. He observed intently now. The roots of the Banyan tree were intertwined with their very beings, threading into their essence, binding them to this spot. If that connection were severed, these apparitions would vanish—they would return home…
Vijay gave a slow, deliberate nod. Looking at the woman with dark hair, he offered a faint smile. "Certainly. If you express the desire, you may leave this very moment."
Hearing no malice in his tone, Adhirai let out a long, slow breath. A being capable of such wonders, who offered a promise with such calm authority, would surely keep his word, she reasoned.
With that mental peace secured, her innate curiosity flared. She was in no hurry to leave now. Her emerald-green eyes, bright as polished stones, darted around with newfound avidity.
"It's fascinating here," she said, her voice tinged with awe. "It feels like a dream. I mean—I've always been drawn to things beyond nature. What I'm trying to say is—sir, what must one do to become a Siddha?"
As she spoke, her excitement grew. Childhood dreams, sprouted from terrifying tales heard in the dark, now seemed to hover on the edge of possibility. In that moment, fear and dread were forgotten.
A good question! Vijay thought. Now what do I say… He groaned inwardly.
To maintain his mysterious aura, he needed a careful response. At the same time, he felt standing to converse was undignified. He should be seated beneath the tree—no, he should be in a palace, upon a mysterious high-backed chair carved with ancient symbols, speaking with his guests from the head of a long, bronze table.
The moment this thought crystallized, the cosmic river shimmered. Adhirai and Arpudhan startled.
Instantly, tall stone pillars rose around them. Above, a vast circular dome enclosed the space. The entire structure felt monumental, majestic, like the palace of a titan from legend.
Directly beneath the dome, where the cosmic river had flowed, a long bronze table now materialized. On either side, five high-backed chairs were arranged symmetrically. A single chair sat at each head of the table. Behind every chair, a faintly glowing cosmic constellation shone.
Vijay gestured for Adhirai to sit in the Libra chair and Arpudhan in Capricorn's. They obeyed, settling into the imposing seats.
The woman looked around, whispering, "It's magnificent…"
It is, Vijay thought. He stretched out his right hand, letting his fingers brush the edge of the cool bronze table, all while maintaining a façade of serene composure.
Arpudhan's eyes scanned their new surroundings. After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly spoke up. Addressing Adhirai's earlier question himself, he said:
"You hail from Neythal, do you not? If you wish to become a Siddha, seek out the temple of Chandra Devi, the temple of Guru, or the temple of Budha.
Most will never meet a true Siddha in their lifetime. That is why, even in the great temples—some priests there—doubt their existence. Yet, I tell you with certainty: they are within the courts, the tribunals, the enforcement agencies. They battle the dangers that grow in the shadows. Their numbers are far fewer now than at the dawn of the Iron Age."
Vijay listened attentively, though he worked to appear as if he were hearing a child's fable. Based on his scattered historical knowledge from Adithan's archives, he knew the current era was called the "Iron Age"—the fifth Yuga, which began 1,349 years ago.
Adhirai waited until Arpudhan finished before sighing. "Sir, I know all that. I know more than that—the Nocturnals , the Punishers, the Cabalists. But I do not wish to sacrifice my freedom."
Arpudhan chuckled low in his throat. "No sacrifice, no Siddhi," he said, his voice grave. "If you won't join a temple and take on their trials, you might approach the royal families. Or some of the ancient lineages with histories stretching back a thousand years and more. Failing that, you could trust to luck and seek out the dark, rogue organizations that operate in the shadows."
Adhirai's expression fell. She glanced around, ensuring the two men weren't watching her too closely, and pressed on. "Is there no other way?"
Aripudhan fell silent. After half a minute, he looked at the mysterious man who had been observing in silence, but sensing no imminent contribution, he turned back to Adhirai. "I possess two herbal decoctions," he said thoughtfully. "For the initial stages of Siddhi."
The initial stages? Vijay mused silently.
Suddenly, Vijay focused. He reached out with his will, attempting to peer into Arpudhan's memories. The Banyan tree had told him he could do this—communicate with them, observe them here beneath its boughs. Make them look upon your Simha constellation and offer reverence, it had instructed.
Vijay leaned back in his chair. He remained quiet for a moment longer, then spoke, his voice carrying a note of finality.
"Your time is up," he announced calmly. "This place is not for you. You may take your leave now."
Adhirai looked crestfallen. "Sir, you have heard my questions and my needs. May I not have an answer before I go?"
Vijay's gaze was impassive. "Direct your requests," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the grand hall, "to the Simha Raja who glimmers in the sky."
Having said this, Adhirai looked at Vijay, who sat in the master's chair at the head of the table. "Sir, you who brought us here must possess powers beyond our imagination."
She met Vijay's hidden gaze directly. It was then she realized she had forgotten to ask the most fundamental question. She asked hurriedly, "Sir, what should we call you?"
Arpudhan nodded in firm agreement, his voice resonant. "Yes, sir. By what name are you known?"
Vijay was taken aback. His fingers tapped lightly on the bronze surface. Behind him, the constellation of Leo glowed a little brighter, pressing against his consciousness.
He leaned back, brought his right hand out, interlaced all ten fingers, and rested them just below his lower lip. He looked at them both, his obscured face giving nothing away.
"You may call me..." he said, the words settling into the cosmic air of the hall, "the Simha Raja."