Location: Kanchipuram – The Temple of Threads
The great Wheel stood at the heart of the sanctum, now whole, yet trembling—like a lung taking its first breath after near death.
Aarav sat cross-legged before it, eyes closed, breathing in rhythm with the silent hum of the completed Regalia. He could feel the weave of time pressing gently against his skin—whispers of forgotten fates and unseen paths brushing past his mind like falling leaves.
> But there was a tear in the fabric of reality now.
And something was coming through.
---
The Warnings of the Threads
Aashi entered quietly, clutching her satchel of star-inked scrolls. She was now more than a scholar—she was the Keeper of Threads, the only mortal who could read the living script the Wheel now generated.
> "You need to see this," she said, unrolling a scroll glowing with blue runes. "The Wheel gave it to me in a dream. It's… a map of echoes."
Aarav took it and studied the lines. Cities—some ancient, some mythic—were marked with runic sigils. Varanasi. Dwaraka. Takshashila. Ujjain. Places once considered myth had been plotted with eerie precision.
> "These are places where time is weak," Aashi whispered. "Where Ashvra will strike first."
Aarav nodded. "How soon?"
> "He's already begun. Reports from the north say the stars aren't rising right. And entire temples have gone… silent."
---
The First Herald Arrives
Just then, the ground shook.
Not an earthquake.
> A pulse—as if reality itself had hiccupped.
Commander Rudra barged in. "We have a situation. Something… something tore through the sky outside Kanchipuram."
The temple guards formed up, and Aarav led the group out onto the marble balcony overlooking the holy city.
Above them, a rift had formed in the sky—ribbons of night unraveling as a golden meteor screamed downward.
But it wasn't a meteor.
> It was a man.
He landed with such force that half of the eastern walls collapsed.
Out of the smoke walked a figure clad in burning crimson armor, each step cracking stone beneath his heels. His face was hidden behind a mask shaped like a lion's snarl, but his presence alone made even the crows fall silent.
Aarav felt it instantly.
> Not a god. Not human.
A Herald.
> Ashvra had sent his first emissary.
---
The Duel of Voices
The Herald stopped, voice echoing without speaking.
> "I am Vargan, Flame of the Dominion. By Ashvra's decree, bearer of the Fifth Regalia is to surrender the Wheel and kneel, or burn with his city."
Aarav stepped forward, unflinching.
> "Then you've never met anyone from Bharat."
Vargan laughed—a thunderous sound that cracked windows. "You are not gods. You are fragments clinging to myth."
> "Then I'll show you what fragments can do."
Without warning, Aarav lunged, drawing upon the Essence of Dharma—the Wheel's power now partially awakened within him.
Flames clashed with stars as the two forces collided—Aarav's blade, forged from celestial intent, met Vargan's burning spear.
Nyra joined in from above, her wind-wrapped daggers slicing through the Herald's infernal aura.
But Vargan was no ordinary soldier. He was carved from the Dominion's oldest sin—molded from wars that erased cities.
He struck Aarav with a backhand so fierce, it sent him crashing into the temple's outer spire.
Nyra screamed and launched herself at the Herald with everything she had—but Vargan caught her by the throat mid-air.
> "Ashvra wants you alive. Not whole."
---
The Awakening of the Fifth
Blood trickled from Aarav's mouth as he rose, bones cracking into place. The Wheel, sensing his will, unfurled behind him like a halo—its arcs spinning slowly.
> "Enough," he whispered.
Suddenly, everything around him slowed. The world shifted.
To everyone else, Aarav vanished.
To Vargan, he blinked and found Aarav behind him—hand on the back of his mask.
> "You came here to burn my people," Aarav growled. "But I will bury your flame."
He pulled the Herald backward into the Wheel itself.
Time fractured.
Memories of empires long gone, cities never built, and futures never born surged around them.
> Aarav was using the Wheel not to fight—
But to trap.
The two figures vanished into the spinning arcs.
Seconds later, the Wheel spun violently, and only Aarav stepped out.
Nyra collapsed to her knees, gasping.
> "Where… did you send him?"
Aarav looked into the distance.
> "To a place beyond endings. He'll burn there forever."
---
Ashvra's Fury
Far away, in the Dominion's heart, Ashvra felt the tether snap.
Vargan—his Herald of Flame—was gone.
The dark emperor stood on a floating monolith suspended over his twisted city. Shadows danced around his fingertips.
> "So the boy uses the Wheel," he muttered. "Foolish."
He turned to his remaining generals—four beings, each more grotesque and terrible than the last.
> "Send them all," Ashvra commanded. "The Hollow Choir. The Mirror-Twin. Even the Void Weaver."
His eyes narrowed.
> "And tell them… bring the girl alive. The bearer may break. But she bends."
---
Revelations and Decisions
Back in Kanchipuram, Aarav sat alone in the sanctum again.
The Wheel, now calm, no longer whispered. It waited.
Nyra entered, bruised but alive.
> "You saved me."
Aarav didn't turn.
> "I used something I wasn't ready for. That Wheel… it responds not to will, but truth. I needed to believe in protecting you more than destroying him."
Nyra sat beside him. "Then maybe it's not just a weapon."
Aashi entered moments later, her face pale.
> "The Wheel just gave us something else."
She unrolled a second scroll. This one glowed red, pulsing like a heartbeat.
> "It's a prophecy."
Aarav took it, reading silently. The words burned his soul:
> "When the Wheel is whole and hearts still fracture,
A god shall fall, a false one rise faster.
Five trials remain, each worse than the last,
Fail one, and Bharat becomes the past."
---
To Be Continued…