Five minutes went by.
Then ten.
The staircase seemed endless. The air grew heavier with each step, the darkness pressing close. The walls around them were damp, breathing softly like the insides of some living creature. Every echo of their footfalls vanished into a silence too thick to be real.
Meera's voice trembled, "Something is definitely wrong. Let's go back."
No one answered, but her fear wasn't unfounded. They all felt it — that strange, looping feeling that they'd been walking for eternity, yet going nowhere.
But Parth couldn't stop.
Some unseen force was calling him, pulling at his soul.
"Just a little more," he said quietly. "If there's still no end, we'll go back. The soldiers must have left already."
Aarav nodded. Avni bit her lip. Neel glanced behind, sensing something unnatural in the air.
And then, as if the world itself obeyed Parth's words — the staircase ended.
They stepped out into something… other.
The air shimmered faintly, thick like molten gold mixed with smoke. The ground beneath them was a soil unlike any other — black, alive, and humming softly. The sky was not dark, but it wasn't light either — it was as if the world had turned inside out. Rivers of light slithered between cracks in the ground, glowing with a faint red pulse.
This was Paatal Lok.
The land of those who had fallen, but were not damned. A realm beneath the earth, where old souls and forgotten gods walked in silence.
The air carried a hum, low and eternal, as if the whole world was breathing.
Meera clutched Aarav's arm. "Where… are we?"
Before anyone could answer, the shadows ahead shifted.
Something was coming.
A figure emerged — tall, broad, terrifying. His skin was the color of old bronze, his eyes red as burning coals. His tusks were faint, his hair matted and long. The ground trembled under his steps.
Meera gasped. Aarav instinctively stood before her. Parth, though, didn't flinch. His hand reached for the sword that wasn't there — an echo of habit from another life.
Before he could move, Sia's voice cut through the tension, calm and knowing.
"He is just a messenger. He means no harm."
Parth turned toward her. Her eyes glowed faintly in the strange light — steady, ancient, and certain.
The Rakshas said nothing. He simply turned and began to walk. His heavy steps made no sound.
Parth exchanged a glance with Neel and Aarav. Without a word, they followed.
Meera was pale, whispering under her breath, "Who's stranger — the monster or the people calmly following him?"
The air grew cooler as they walked, until they reached a massive hall — carved from red stone and black crystal. It stretched endlessly, pillars etched with stories of ancient wars and old oaths.
At the far end, a throne gleamed — carved from obsidian, veins of molten gold running through it like lightning trapped in stone.
Upon it sat a king.
Parth froze. He'd seen this place before — in dreams, in flashes of memory, in that moment between sleep and wakefulness when the universe whispered secrets.
Then the king spoke, his voice deep and kind, carrying the weight of a thousand years.
"My Prabhu dearly loves all of you," he said. "And He has a mission for you."
Parth looked up. The man before him was majestic — broad-shouldered, with eyes that held both fire and mercy. His crown was simple, his aura vast.
The king smiled faintly.
"Let me guide you a little. I am your host, Maharaja Bali."
Meera fainted. Avni hid behind Aarav.
Sia bowed her head, a quiet recognition passing between her and the king.
Parth exhaled slowly, a sad smile touching his lips.
"Thank you. Madhav would definitely guide us. Either Himself… or through someone else."
Maharaja Bali's expression softened.
"You have understood well. Prabhu never leaves those He has chosen. He merely hides the path so you may learn to find it again."
He stood, his height almost brushing the ceiling.
"Arjun, Sahadev, Yuyutsu," he said, eyes falling on the three. "You must first see this realm with your own eyes. Walk its plains, listen to its silences. Return to me after three days exactly. Then you shall hear what I have to say."
Then, turning toward the girls, he added gently,
"Devis — my attendants will take you to my Mahal. You will be protected and honored there. Rest well. This realm will not harm you."
Sia and Avni nodded, still holding Meera's unconscious form as the attendants — strange, luminous beings shaped like women but woven from shadow and light — approached. Their movements were graceful, their eyes kind.
As she was leaving, Sia looked back one last time. Her eyes met Parth's.
"Don't forget who you are," she said softly.
Parth smiled, that same gentle, aching smile.
He could only see Subhadra in her now.
Then the three — Parth, Aarav, and Neel — turned and stepped out into the unknown, guided by something neither time nor fate could touch.
But Parth couldn't shake one thought.
Why three days?
Why exactly three?
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