The path west was long, but Lakshya's steps were steady. Beside him, Tarka scouted the winds, her blades humming low with vigilance. The map etched into Lakshya's Vardaan showed a shortcut through the Vismriti Valley — an abandoned place, according to Brahmayogi Raas.
"A day's travel saved," Tarka said.
"But something's strange," Lakshya murmured. "This valley… doesn't appear in any native scripture. It's like it shouldn't exist."
They entered anyway.
🌫️ A Village Lost in Time
Fog clung to the valley floor like silk — thick, cold, and humming softly. After hours of walking, they came upon a village. But it had no nameplate. No signs. No markings on the walls.
Children played silently. Adults moved about, but their expressions were blank — like sleepwalkers.
Lakshya stopped a passing farmer. "What is this place?"
The man blinked slowly. "This is… home."
"What's it called?"
The man paused, eyes twitching. "I… don't remember."
Tarka whispered, "Something's terribly wrong."
🌀 The Power of Maya
That night, they stayed in an empty inn. Lakshya sat cross-legged, meditating, trying to sense the Shakti flow in the area.
But what he found wasn't Shakti.
It was Maya — thick, ancient, and alive.
Suddenly, a whisper entered his mind:
"Welcome, Dreamer. Will you lose yourself too?"
His eyes snapped open. Tarka was gone. So was the room. He was now standing in a crowded Earth street — Mumbai. Horns blared. People walked past. A familiar voice called out:
"Lakshya, hurry! We're late for class!"
It was his best friend from his first life — Raghav. But Raghav had died in an accident years ago.
Lakshya's heart pounded. "No… this isn't real."
🧠 Breaking Illusion
The illusion tried to pull him in — showing him his old school, his house, his childhood.
But Lakshya clenched his fist. "I've already lived this."
He called upon his Flame Heart, and reality burned away. The world shattered like glass. He was back in the village inn — panting, sweating.
Tarka lay unconscious nearby, caught in her own illusion.
Lakshya reached her, placing his palm over her heart. "Remember who you are."
His Vardaan glowed.
[Illusion Dispelled – Maya Resistance +10]
Tarka gasped, waking up. "I… I saw my parents. I was home. But they looked wrong."
"They were never meant to be real," Lakshya said. "This place feeds on forgotten dreams."
🛕 The Temple of No Name
At the village's center stood a half-buried temple — made of obsidian and ashwood. It pulsed with Maya.
Lakshya and Tarka entered. Inside, murals showed scenes of countless people — weeping, rejoicing, sleeping — all gradually fading into mist.
At the altar sat a woman in tattered white robes. Her face was covered with a veil of golden threads.
She spoke softly, "Who are you… before the world told you what you should be?"
Lakshya stepped forward. "I am Lakshya. A dreamer. A reborn soul. And I remember."
The woman nodded. "Then you may take the gift… and the warning."
She vanished into light.
✨ The Forgotten Gift
A silver lotus bloomed at the altar. Lakshya touched it.
[You have obtained: Petal of Maya]
A mystic item that can unlock one illusion — real or symbolic.
[Trait Gained: Will of the Real]
You resist illusions and falsehoods. Your clarity strengthens your presence in dream realms.
As they left the temple, the village behind them began to fade.
"Is it dying?" Tarka asked.
"No," Lakshya said. "It was never alive. Just a memory of those who forgot themselves."
They turned back. The valley was gone. Only a wide field remained.
🛡️ Reflection Beneath the Stars
That night, under a vast Mahakaal Lok sky, Lakshya stared at the stars.
"I thought chasing dreams was about achieving," he whispered. "But sometimes, it's also about remembering who we were… and choosing who we still want to be."
Tarka threw a rock into the fire. "Well, I still want to be the best sword-dancer this world has ever seen."
He smiled.
Their path was long, the trials unknown, but with each step, Lakshya wasn't just awakening — he was becoming.
To be continued…