"The ones I fought?" Lioran's voice was low, tense. "What do you mean?"
Shourya, the old man who had saved them, stood tall in front of them.
"That creature who attacked your college…" he began, his tone like stone dragging through silence, "it wasn't just a monster."
He paused deliberately.
"It was a Narvan."
Lioran froze.
The name struck him like a hammer, reverberating through his bones. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, the syllables awakened a memory—or perhaps a warning. He opened his mouth to respond, but Sharin stepped forward first, concern etched across his face.
"What about the others?" he asked quickly. "Our friends, our classmates—are they safe?"
Shourya gave a solemn nod. "Most of them are safe but those it killed… I couldn't bring them back."
Silence fell like snow—quiet, heavy, unrelenting.
Lioran clenched his fists. The scent of blood, the screams, the smoke—it all returned in flashes. A deep guilt burrowed into his chest.
"But don't burden yourselves with sorrow," Shourya added gently. "I've already erased their memories of that incident."
Lioran looked up sharply. "What do you mean? What did you do?"
Shourya took a breath, folding his hands behind his back. "I manipulated the Prāṇa flow in the hippocampus—the region of the brain where memories are formed. By redirecting the internal currents, I've obscured the incident in their minds. To them, it will feel like a fading nightmare—nothing more."
"You can control memories… with Prāṇa?" Lioran asked, stunned. "Who exactly are you?"
Shourya stepped forward, placing his palm over his heart. His voice echoed slightly, as if the very hall recognized his authority.
"I am Shourya. Master of this Ashram. Guardian of the ancient path."
"Ashram?" Lioran echoed. "Why bring us here?"
"To show you the truth," Shourya said.
"The truth?" Lioran asked warily. "About what?"
"About why the Narvan attacked you. About the power that lies dormant within you. And about who you truly are."
Lioran's voice was barely audible. "I… I'm just Lioran."
"I didn't ask your name," Shourya replied with a faint smile. "I asked—who are you truly?"
"I… I'm just a college student."
Shourya's smile deepened, though it carried no mockery. "Then tell me, student… how did you fly through the air and strike down a Narvan in battle?"
Lioran had no answer. He looked at Sharin, who stared at him with equal uncertainty.
"I will explain everything," Shourya said. He turned and walked to a control panel nestled into the stone wall. With a smooth press, a soft hum filled the air.
BZZZZZ
A hidden mechanism responded. A golden screen descended from the ceiling, glowing softly like the light of dawn. Strange symbols danced across it before resolving into one single, radiant word:
VAELION
Lioran's heart pounded. The creature at the college had screamed that name too. Why?
"That Narvan… it was searching for Vaelion," Lioran murmured. "Who is he? What's his connection to me?"
Shourya faced the screen, his hands clasped behind him, his posture like a statue lost in memory.
"To understand him," he said, "you must understand the world before your time."
The room fell still.
"It all began in the year 799 A.D. The Earth was different then—lush, peaceful, untouched by the greed and chaos of later centuries. Humanity lived in balance with nature."
"But then," Shourya's voice darkened, "a rupture occurred. A tear in the veil between dimensions."
The image transformed into a swirling black vortex—high above an ancient temple, ripping the sky apart.
"A portal opened," Shourya continued. "From another realm. A realm not of peace—but of death."
The screen turned red.
From the swirling portal came grotesque figures—towering, horned, clawed, drenched in shadow. Narvans.
"The Narvans entered our world through that portal. Their own world was dying—its core collapsed, its light fading. They saw Earth as their salvation. But they didn't ask."
He paused, his expression grim.
"They invaded."
The screen showed horrors—cities engulfed in black fire, forests reduced to ash. Humans screamed and ran. The skies turned crimson. The world was unprepared.
"They came in waves. Powerful. Merciless. Humanity fought back, but our weapons were useless. The Narvans devoured life—literally.."
Lioran and Sharin watched, transfixed.
"It was a massacre," Shourya said. "Humanity stood on the brink of extinction."
Sharin swallowed hard. "So… how did we survive?"
Shourya's voice lowered, reverent.
"Because one man stood between humanity and annihilation."
The screen shifted again. Amidst a field of burning corpses, a lone figure walked through the flames—his body cloaked in golden fire, eyes blazing like miniature suns.
VAELION
"That warrior," Shourya said, "was born during a rare celestial event—when all nine planets aligned perfectly. This alignment channeled cosmic energy into his Prāṇa Core at birth. He became something this world had never seen. Something divine."
Lioran's eyes widened.
Sharin whispered, "Vaelion…"
"He was the first to master Prāṇa beyond human limits," Shourya continued. "But even he couldn't face the Narvan horde alone. So he began to teach. He founded the first Ashram. He trained others. He built the Prāṇa Warriors."
The screen lit up with images of warriors in flowing robes, channeling energy, lifting mountains, severing Narvans with waves of light.
"With time, humanity began to fight back. Balance returned. The tide turned. The Narvans began to fall."
Lioran sat forward, a spark of hope in his eyes.
"Until…" Shourya paused. His face darkened.
Lioran winced.
His temples throbbed.
A sudden pain shot through his skull. THROB!
Images flashed in his mind—nightmares flooding his vision. A black silhouette. Crimson eyes. A throne of bones. A towering creature standing atop a mountain of corpses.
Lioran's breath caught. "Until… he showed up."
Shourya turned sharply. "You saw him?"
Sharin looked at Lioran. "Who?"
Shourya spoke softly, cautiously. "The one who wasn't like the other narvans. It was something else. Narvans called him…"
Suddenly, Lioran's vision burned bright—an image clearer than before.
A massive Narvan hung a warrior by the neck, lifting him like a doll. His voice was a thunderclap.
"I… am…"
Lioran whispered aloud, finishing the phrase without meaning to:
"Narvan King."
The room fell deathly silent.
The screen dimmed.
Shourya stared at Lioran—his expression unreadable.
"How did you know?" Shourya asked.
Lioran looked at him. "I saw him. I felt him. Like I've… seen that monster before."
"You have," Shourya replied. "And that's why you must understand… you're not just anyone, Lioran. Your connection to all this runs deeper than even you can imagine."
Sharin stepped between them. "What are you trying to say?"
Shourya looked at both of them, his voice now quiet but sharp as a blade:
"The Narvan King is stirring once more. And the only one who can stand against him… is the heir of Vaelion's legacy."
He turned back to Lioran.
"And that heir… is you."
TO BE CONTINUED...