The victory over Kshya, the Herald of Time, brought little rest. Samayantar dissolved into silence, its final memory a blossom that shimmered in Lakshya's hand. Yet in the distance—beyond mountain ridges carved by forgotten titans—whispers of war stirred. Beneath the Skybone Ravine, something ancient was awakening.
Lakshya stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the deep gash in the earth. The Ravine stretched for miles, dark and breathing. Its stone walls looked like ribs—white and jagged—hence the name. Down below, torchlights flickered.
A legion was moving.
Sharv stood beside him, his Akhand Flame flickering erratically. "The Mirror cult has begun to act. The Ravine shelters one of their hidden citadels. If they're summoning what I think they are…"
"They're trying to awaken another Herald," Lakshya said grimly. "Or worse. They're trying to create one."
I. The Mirror Cult's March
The Mirror was more than just a group—it was a philosophy. A dark one. Their belief: that reality was but a lie cast by the divine, and truth could only be found by shattering the illusion. They sought to remake the world—not by shaping it, but by breaking its boundaries.
Led by masked prophets, they experimented with Maya—the mystic power of illusion—twisting it beyond sanity. Their followers trained not in brute force but in bending minds, distorting reality, and planting delusions so deep they could kill.
Sharv traced the sigil burned into a stone. "This is their doing. A pre-ritual ward. They're using the leyline beneath the ravine to tear a rift."
Lakshya's vardaan pulsed. A mission prompt blinked in his mind:
[Vardaan Activated]
Disrupt the Summoning of the False Herald – Mirror Tier Threat
Reward: Unknown Artifact, Vardaan Fragment, +1 Universal Skill Point
A grin tugged at the corners of Lakshya's lips. "Then we go underground."
II. Descent into the Hollow
The descent was not gentle. The ravine's stone teeth scraped their path. Lakshya and Sharv moved silently through ancient tunnels lit only by enchanted flames. The deeper they went, the colder it got. Not from lack of heat, but from something spiritual—a hollowing of existence itself.
They passed murals etched by forgotten hands. Depictions of mirrors devouring suns. Of gods pierced by reflections of themselves. And at the center—a figure without a face, crowned in shadow, marked simply as "The Origin Reflection."
At last, they reached a colossal cavern. Thousands of cultists stood in spiraled formation, chanting in a tongue that bent Lakshya's ears. At the center was an obsidian pool, its surface not water, but liquid illusion—Maya made visible.
Hovering above it, the Mirror Prophet stood. Unlike the others, his mask was broken, revealing a face that shifted constantly—young to old, male to female, smiling to weeping—every possible identity flickering.
"We welcome the Dreamwalker," the Prophet spoke. "The one who believes in forging destiny. Yet destiny is but a mirror, Lakshya. Break it."
III. The War of Shadows
As the Prophet raised his staff, the entire cavern convulsed. The illusions came alive. Warriors from Lakshya's past surged forward—images of those he had fought, those he had killed, even those he had loved. But none were real.
Sharv shouted, "They're weaponizing memory!"
Lakshya activated a new ability granted by the Timeblossom from Samayantar: "Akal-Spashta" — the Eye of Timeless Clarity.
Suddenly, the illusions dimmed. The truth flickered behind the veil.
He leapt forward, cutting down the nearest specters, then surged through the cultists in a streak of glowing energy. Sharv ignited the air behind him with waves of pure fire.
The Mirror Prophet countered with his ultimate illusion — a reversed world.
Suddenly, gravity flipped. Fire froze. The cavern turned upside-down, and Lakshya found himself standing on air. The Prophet lunged, his weapon splitting into fractal blades.
Lakshya closed his eyes.
Vardaan, respond.
[Ability Unlocked: Sankalp Siddhi – Manifestation through Resolve]
Power: Convert unshakable intent into reality-warping bursts.
With one breath, Lakshya declared, "This is my reality."
The reversed world snapped. The real cavern returned. The Prophet shrieked as his illusions shattered like brittle glass.
IV. The Creation of a Herald
But the Prophet had bought time.
From the Maya pool, something rose.
It wasn't alive—yet. It resembled Lakshya, but hollow, like a mannequin sculpted from mirror shards. Its chest held a dark seed—a soul engine, fed by the cult's belief. It had no memories, no identity, only purpose:
To reflect all of Lakshya's strength… but twisted.
Sharv gasped. "They're not summoning a Herald… they're mimicking one using your essence. A Herald born of you, against you."
The Mirror Entity moved.
It was fast. Too fast.
Lakshya met its blade in midair, sparks of shakti flaring. Blow for blow, move for move, it mirrored him perfectly. Every technique he had learned was copied instantly.
"I'm fighting myself…" Lakshya grunted.
"No," Sharv shouted. "You're fighting who you used to be. Evolve, now!"
Lakshya let go of pattern. He recalled every teaching from Nandiji, every trial he had walked, and every dream he had dared.
He changed.
And the Mirror couldn't keep up.
With a furious roar, Lakshya summoned Vichitra-Naad, a chaotic form of shakti that defied structure, a technique born not from training but imagination.
He struck.
The mirror shattered.
V. Echoes Fade, but Shadows Linger
The cavern began to collapse. The cultists scattered in terror, their anchor lost. The Prophet, dying, laughed quietly.
"You may win battles, Lakshya. But the Mirror is everywhere. Even inside you."
Lakshya paused. The words echoed uncomfortably.
They escaped just in time, the ravine rumbling behind them, swallowing the cursed citadel into oblivion.
At the surface, the stars had shifted.
Lakshya stood silent.
Sharv asked, "What is it?"
"I've felt it now. There's more than Heralds… There are reflections of me in other worlds. Some… not as kind."
To be continued...