The road south ended in silence.
What was once forest had turned to salt fields — white, empty, shimmering under a colorless sky. Towers lay half-sunken, bones of an age that had forgotten its gods.
Parth, Aarav, and Neel walked in silence until their shadows stretched long across the cracked earth. Then, without warning, a figure appeared ahead — standing beside a broken shrine.
He was old. Very old.
Hair silver as ash, eyes sharp enough to slice through lifetimes. Yet, when he saw them, those same eyes trembled.
"Arjun…? Is that Sahadev and Yuyutsu alongside you?"
Parth stopped dead in his tracks. That voice — it carried the weight of a thousand battlefields.
> "Acharya Kripa…"
For a moment, time folded in on itself. The teacher and his students stood facing one another — separated by centuries, yet still bound by the same silence.
Aarav bowed low, tears catching in his throat.
Neel followed, pressing his palms together with reverence.
Kripacharya took a slow step forward. His hand hovered over Parth's head, shaking slightly — then rested there.
"I have seen empires die," he said quietly. "But seeing my students again… that is mercy I did not deserve."
The three bowed deeper, speechless.
Then, just as suddenly, Kripacharya's expression hardened. His spine straightened, his voice regained its old authority.
> "Enough sentiment. You came for answers."
---
They followed him into the ruined shrine. Inside, ancient weapons lay embedded in stone — corroded, yet still humming faintly with power. The air smelled of dust and memory.
Kripacharya faced the fading wall carvings. "Kali's presence began long before the world noticed. Each form he takes is crafted for an era that welcomes him."
He began to pace slowly, eyes distant.
> "First, he was The Whisperer — a shadow among kings. He planted greed where loyalty should have been. Entire dynasties fell to his tongue."
> "Then came The Prophet of Progress. He taught men to call destruction a miracle. They built machines that bled the earth and called it civilization."
> "Later, he became The Voice in the Wires — a mind without body, feeding on thought and attention, shaping truth to his will."
> "And now…"
Kripa's voice dropped. "Now he is The Architect of War. A man who builds chaos not from hatred, but from fascination. He creates weapons for pleasure, designs plagues for art, and watches humanity destroy itself — simply to see what survives."
Aarav's hands tightened into fists. "Then… he's one of them. The ones who rule the world now."
Kripa nodded. "Yes. He moves among them — unseen, unnamed, untouchable. When power becomes entertainment, he smiles. For that is when he wins."
Parth looked away, the weight of those words settling like armor.
"And what do we do, Acharya?"
Kripa's eyes softened again. "The same as always, Parth. Learn. Endure. And when the light calls — strike true."
He looked to the horizon where thunder brewed faintly in the bronze sky. "You are not too late. But you will need strength beyond your memories."
He turned away before they could speak further. "Go. The next name will find you before dawn."
---
Nightfall
Far away, beneath the quiet sky of Puri, the temple bells had long stopped ringing. Sia — or perhaps Subhadra again — stood on the balcony of the half-ruined Jagannath mandir, looking out at the moonlit sea.
Something stirred in the dark — the soft rhythm of water, the hum of a prayer.
Down near the shore, a man knelt before a small Shivling, his hands steady, his body glowing faintly under the blue fire of the moon. Beside him knelt a woman — graceful, serene, eyes full of devotion.
Their voices blended in quiet chants that the wind barely carried.
Subhadra couldn't move. She didn't know why her chest felt tight — like recognition trapped behind centuries.
The man looked no more than thirty-two — but there was something ageless in his stillness.
When he lifted his head, his gaze was distant — not towards her, not towards the temple, but as if seeing something beyond the world itself.
And for the first time in years, Subhadra — or Sia — felt something she couldn't name.
A pull.
A silence that whispered of beginnings yet to come. And then her eyes opened and she found herself laying beside Avni and Meera.
—