The moment he thought he could free himself from that cosmic world, it pulled him back—not with the gentle tug of a vacuum cleaner like the one that had pulled Vijay, but with the visceral, undeniable gravity of a planet reclaiming its own. Aadhittan's world dragged him home.
Several hours later, Vijay opened his eyes, and his mind, still thick with the residue of another consciousness, instinctively defaulted to its most recent identity. I am Aadhittan again.
The thought was a cold splash of reality. So, for now, going back to Earth is impossible. As this resignation settled in his gut, he noticed it. On the back of his hand, the constellation of Leo had reappeared—a cluster of tiny, star-like marks etched into his skin.
He knew this Sigil of Leo had never truly left his body; it had only lain dormant. Now it was not just visible, but active. He could feel it humming beneath his skin, a subtle vibration that promised both alteration and a one-way ticket back to that other realm. He remembered seeing similar marks—Libra on Adhirai, Capricorn on Arputhan—but theirs had faded without causing any apparent disturbance. They were free.
Why is mine different? he wondered, a spark of desperate hope igniting within the chaos. Why does it persist? If it remains… does that mean I alone can return there? The possibility was intoxicating, a secret key clutched in his sweating palm. But it was a key that terrified him.
Fear and confusion clung to him like a second skin, a cold sweat that wouldn't dry. His mind was a fractured kaleidoscope of impossible images: the majestic World Tree, vast and humming with cosmic energy; the shimmering, depthless expanse of that other universe; Arputhan transforming into a sea creature—was that the power of Makara, or was he a Siddhan, an enlightened one?; the mysterious princess; the fierce sea raiders; this alien world with its twin yellow moons; the two charred, unidentifiable bodies; the brutal, disorienting act of teleportation itself. Each memory was a shard of ice driven deep into his psyche, seeding a profound and chilling dread.
Yet, amidst the terror, a treacherous new thought began to weave itself. A lesson from a long-ago philosophy class surfaced: "Fear aided the adaptive evolution of mankind. Fear is a natural part of life, often paving the way for growth. It sparks curiosity."
For Aadhittan, this fear was beginning to spark exactly that. A forbidden curiosity.
That cosmic world… that tree… The Tree's words echoed, a seductive whisper in the vault of his memory. If I could fully comprehend it, harness its depth… power, wealth, knowledge. Could I attain a divine state? It said if I become a Siddhan, I could reach godhood. An irresistible, burning temptation rose within him, a primal urge to grasp the unimaginable. Simultaneously, a contradictory, survivalist instinct pulled him in the opposite direction: Pretend nothing happened. If anyone finds out about that world, it could mean danger. Extreme danger. He was torn between the moth's draw to the flame and the mouse's urge to flee to the shadows.
His fear was morphing into curiosity.
And curiosity began to sow the first fragile seeds of belief.
Then belief, fragile as a new shoot, started to harden into a grim resolve.
It made him whisper a old, defiant saying to himself, a mantra of stubborn endurance: "If the storm comes, we'll build a wall. If the rain leaves, we'll dig a well…"
Now, a more immediate and mundane sensation pushed aside the cosmic dread. A deep, gnawing hunger clenched his stomach.
Straightening his wrinkled shirt, a simple act that felt grounding and human, he turned back to the table. His fingers closed around the cool, familiar weight of the silver pocket watch.
Click.
The lid sprang open. The second hand ticked with a steady, mundane rhythm. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Half-past twelve.
First, I need to think on a full stomach.
Aadhittan's hunger, now a roaring demand, fixated on a specific comfort: mutton soup. Vijay, from his life on Earth, had often watched his mother cook, learning through observation. Here, with the limited ingredients he had—some meat and vegetables he'd bought—he could manage. He prepared a simple wheat flatbread to go with the vegetables, and soaked some millet to cool. He ate the bread and vegetables quickly. The kool (millet porridge) and the mutton soup, he decided, would wait for Meenakha. The thought of sharing a meal felt like an anchor to normalcy.
Settling back at the table, he forced his mind to plan.
There's no escaping this. To solve these mysteries, to get back home, I need to understand my own power. I need to become stronger. Like Adhirai, Arputhan, and the World Tree said… I must find a way to become a 'Siddhan'.
He muttered another old proverb to himself, a bulwark against the lingering fear: "For those who fear within, even the strongest fortress without is useless."
Ignorance breeds fear. I must conquer it with knowledge, he resolved.
For now, the only path is to wait. Wait for the next time the Leo constellation appears. When they worship it… that might be my chance to learn something. To see if I can harness it.
Sunday. The constellation would be visible in four days. Before that, he had to solve Aadhittan's mystery. Did he commit suicide? Was he murdered? Whose were those two burned bodies?
Unable to abandon this body or its life, Aadhittan–Vijay began to sift through the host's memories, deliberately opening mental drawers he'd previously ignored.
He recalled a lecture from Professors Bogan and Ashvathan. I attended their class on May 16… they were teaching about steam engines. Then, a specific fragment surfaced: Ashvathan saying, "If not for the great sage Agastya, we would still be living primitive lives. He came from the Earth and transformed this very land."
The memory sparked. Agastya… notes about him could be useful in the future. He filed the thought away.
Another memory demanded attention: the Fourth Yuga.
The Fourth Yuga, the age preceding the current "Iron Age," was shrouded in mystery. Its history was fragmentary, pieced together from scant archaeological finds—a few tombs, ancient city ruins, and records. Historians and archaeologists largely relied on information from the seven major temples, around which religious narratives had been woven. While not deeply interested in the myth-heavy first three Yugas, Aadhittan had always been fascinated by the Fourth, often called the Age of the Devas.
Hmm, he thought, refocusing. So, Aadhittan was worried about his future, focusing on job interviews. But that proved futile…
Universities here were still exclusive, populated mostly by the royal or the wealthy. Even if a commoner like Aadhittan got in, discrimination was rife. Yet, for the diligent, they offered invaluable social connections through group discussions and networking events.
Vetriyan was a prime example. The son of a banker from the coastal city of Kaanadu in the Mimicry Kingdom of Neithal, he always clung to Nayagi and Aadhittan for help, as they were in the same project group.
Then I graduated…
A sharper memory pierced through. "On June 20… a book was found. One of our professors said his family belonged to a secret society… the Illuminati. He mentioned they'd been 'exposed.'"
Some of the words resonated deeply with Vijay's Earth-knowledge. Illuminati? A secret society? Could they be from Earth too?
Yes! Who was that professor?
He told us about a Black Emperor.
Who is this Black Emperor?
What was the professor's name?
Why can't I recall his face clearly? The professor's features remained frustratingly blurred in his mind's eye.
The Illuminati family was said to be highly placed in the Sagarian Empire. The professor mentioned someone with the title 'The Ambassador' being involved in a secret transaction. The Ambassador? Could that be connected to the Ambassador bloodline?
Later, I met Vetriyan. I was going to tell him not to trust that professor, but something stopped me…
Then, Nayagi told me, 'They've found something in that book. You need to see it.'
What did they find?
The professor mentioned a mountain… the Udagai mountain range. He said he'd gotten a job there. How can there be a country on a mountain peak? How do they survive?
The day before yesterday, after learning about the Illuminati, we went back to the library…
And yesterday… that's when I, Aadhittan's body, was taken over.
Yesterday. What happened yesterday?
The questions now piled into a crushing mountain within him:
Who is that professor?
Are the Illuminati from Earth?
What happened yesterday?
How did Aadhittan die?
Why did he go to the burial ground?
The weight of these mysteries was suffocating.
A sudden, sharp sound ripped through the silence, startling him.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His blood ran cold.
Thud… thud… thud…
This time, it was unmistakable.
It was the door.
Aadhittan froze, his heart hammering against his ribs.
From outside the house, the sound of footsteps on the gravel path.
"Who is it?" Aadhittan called out, his voice tighter than he intended.
From the other side of the heavy wood—
Silence.
A minute stretched, thin and tense. Then, the knocking came again, harder this time, more insistent, bordering on violent.
THUD. THUD. THUD.