The cell reeked of cold iron, old stone, and filtered ash. Sunlight crawled in through a slit of a window high above, thin and pale, like the last remnant of a world that had forgotten warmth. Dust swirled in golden shafts, disturbed only by the soft rhythm of Adhivita's breathing. She sat against the far wall, wrists shackled, ankles bound, her once regal posture eroded by days of solitude but not broken. Never broken. Her eyes stayed fixed on the door, unblinking, unflinching, a storm held in stillness.
Then came the sound.
The metallic groan of ancient hinges stirred the dust. Heavy boots echoed with slow, deliberate weight, each step louder than the last. She didn't need to look to know who it was. She felt it in the shift of air, the coldness that preceded him like a shadow cast before flame.
The Dominion Commander Navik.
His silhouette filled the doorframe before he stepped inside taller than she remembered, older too, though not in body. The years had etched no frailty into his shoulders or lines into his face. He looked carved from obsidian, the same man who had once held her hand and told her stories of empires. The same man who had not seen her as a daughter since she was ten.
"You," she said, her voice rough from disuse but sharp enough to cut steel.
He paused, surveying the cell not as a father seeing his child, but as a general scanning old battlefield. His eyes didn't meet hers at first. They moved over the walls, the floor, the iron rings set into the stone. Then, finally, they landed on her quietly, with the weight of a man returning to a grave.
"Don't expect for forgiveness," Navik said at last. His tone was even, a measured blend of control and distance. "But you deserve the truth."
Adhivita's lips curled into something close to a smile. Not kind. Not soft. The kind of smile that came just before a knife was drawn. "Since when have you decided I deserve anything?"
Navik stepped forward. His coat, long and dark, swept the floor behind him like a trailing shadow. He didn't sit, didn't lower his voice, didn't make himself smaller. He never had. "You've grown," he said instead. "She would've been proud." The temperature in the room dropped.
"Don't say her name," Adhivita snapped. "Not here. Not from you." But Navik didn't flinch. He never did. "Bhumika." The name struck the air like a chime, soft but shattering. Adhivita stiffened.
"You never knew her," he continued, "not really. Not the way I did." And then, without preamble, he spoke.
He told her of the world before the Dominion before steel banners and planetary decrees when nations still stood and fractured governments clashed beneath old suns. Bhumika had been the daughter of a fallen regime, the last remnant of a dying ideal. He met her during a negotiation, when her homeland resisted his annexation. She argued with fire in her voice and frost in her eyes. She refused his offers, insulted his terms, and never once looked afraid. It was not love at first sight it was recognition. A mirror. Someone who did not bend.
"I conquered cities," he said. "But she made me pause. She didn't love the warlord. She loved the man underneath. And for her, I tried to become that man again." He didn't notice that her fists were trembling. Or maybe he did.
In his bedroom deep in the palace, untouched by war hung the memory of that time. A massive oil painting framed in gold and silence. Bhumika, dressed not in queen's robes, but in a soft garden gown, her feet bare beside a quiet pond. Her expression was serene, caught between wonder and warning. She had never been more beautiful.
"She made me better," Navik said, voice low. "For a time." Adhivita could feel the bile rising. "And then you became this." Navik nodded, slowly. "Because destiny doesn't make room for mercy." And then the story changed. Turned. Darkened.
He told "Bhumika had become pregnant twins. It was meant to be the culmination of everything: love, legacy, the future. But soon after, she began to weaken. Pale skin, sleepless nights, a cough that wouldn't go away."
"Agastya said it was cancer," he said. "And that if I tried to use Noctirum to heal her… I would lose everything." She felt her chest tighten.
"But I didn't believe him," Navik said. "I couldn't. I had reshaped continents. Toppled kings. I thought I could defy death."
He didn't raise his voice. Didn't show emotion. But the tremor was there, just beneath the words.
"I gave her the infusion. And for a time… it worked. She laughed again. Held my hand. We named you both. She whispered poems to you through her stomach. I thought I had saved her." Then his voice cracked.
"But when the labor came… the sickness returned. Tenfold. She screamed your names and reached for me, and I couldn't stop the blood. The doctors tried. But in the end…"
Adhivita's eyes burned. "…only you and Lavin survived."
The silence was deafening.
"She died," he said, looking away, "because of me. Because I thought I could rewrite fate. And so, I decided… if Noctirum had taken her, then I would use it to bring her back." That was the day the Dominion's deepest secret began.
"I built the machine," he whispered. "Seventeen years in silence. A gate to somewhere else. Somewhere untouched. And five months ago… it opened. A train arrived. With them near the ruins of Rohini where the robotic knights chopped the metal and the remnants but a few insects survived."
Adhivita froze.
"Yes," he said. "Your friends. Shivam. The others. They are from another world. And I will bring Bhumika through that same door. And when I'm done… I will destroy their world for daring to send them here." He turned to go. His eyes cold once more.
"You will live to watch them fall. And then you will beg me to end you."
He walked out. And the door slammed shut behind him. Silence returned. But not for long. The guards outside shifted, and then stepped in visors removed.
Pawan. Sumit. "We're with Shivam and rebellion," Pawan said, his voice urgent. "Come on. We don't have much time."
Adhivita stood slowly. Her cuffs clattered to the floor. She wasn't shaking now. Not from fear. From clarity. From fury. And from hope. She was going to reunite with her friends and this time; nothing would stop her.
Vedhyra burned like a crown of fire in the sky.
Smoke curled into the rising light, blotting out the edges of the floating city. The once pristine terraces of its outer ring were now cratered and scorched, torn apart by plasma fire and torn banners. The battle had turned the circular streets into trenches, the sky into a ceiling of ash, and the city itself into a crucible. And at its center amid the rubble, the fallen towers, and the flickering remnants of Dominion arrogance Shivam's team surged forward like an unrelenting tide.
They moved as one.
Naina led the path, her eyes glowing with the eerie clarity of her Aether Sight. She moved through blind alleys and disrupted terrain with the grace of foresight, her bow materializing with a shimmer each time she paused. Her arrows arced with unnatural precision, bending midair to strike Dominion commanders hiding behind blast shields or retreating into armored convoys. Each shot carried a message no place was safe from her gaze.
Beside her, Aman charged like a living tank. His shield arm glowed with a cobalt hue, layers of defensive plating flickering around him in bursts. A plasma cannon mounted on a Dominion mech roared to life ahead too close, too late. Aman planted his feet and braced. The blast slammed into his barrier, flaring out like lightning against a storm wall. Civilians behind him scrambled to safety as he stepped forward, growling through clenched teeth and sending a spear coated in golden shimmer hurtling into the cannon's exposed core.
To his left, Dikshant worked with deadly choreography. One of his clones blinked through a wrecked structure, diving headfirst into a patrol and detonating mid spin, knocking soldiers into walls. The real Dikshant rolled in from the flank, tossing a serrated knife into a fuel line before leaping back. The resulting explosion carved a new breach in the enemy line. Flames flared behind him, painting his shadow in gold and crimson as he regrouped with Naina under the collapsed skybridge.
Aanchal was already gone again flickering like a ghost between bursts of motion. Her steps were almost soundless, her blade slicing the air before the enemy could even register her presence. Her precognition wasn't just a power; it was instinct now. Every twist of her body, every pivot of her foot it was guided by the breath of a moment she saw seconds before it arrived. A Dominion gunner turned too slow; she was already behind him. Another aimed a scattershot she ducked before he pulled the trigger and severed his weapon arm with surgical precision.
And at the heart of it all was Shivam.
His stride was calm, powerful, and entirely grounded. No longer the uncertain boy who once flinched at his own strength, Shivam moved with the tempered force of purpose. His fists cracked the air, his steps shattered stone beneath him, but it wasn't recklessness. It was control. He deflected energy blasts with his bare hands, redirected kinetic missiles into enemy formations, and when a Dominion hovercraft dipped too low, he launched upward in a flash of blue white light and drove his fist straight through its underbelly, sending it spiraling into a crash behind enemy lines.
Civilians and rebel fighters alike stared at him now not just as a warrior, but as the myth. The God Sparked One. The Spark who stood beneath artillery fire and didn't flinch. The one whose steps broke Dominion arrogance and whose gaze carried the will to defy fate itself.
The battlefield shifted beneath their feet. Then the scream came. Harsh. Raw. Familiar.
From the smoke choked edge of a collapsed Dominion command tower, a figure stepped forward. Lavin.
His Dominion armor was scorched, dented, half torn at the chest. Blood streaked down the side of his face, but his eyes burned with a fire more dangerous than rage desperation. His voice rang out across the debris field, cutting through cannon fire and rebel cheers alike.
"Shivam!" Everything stilled for a second. A breath before the next storm.
Shivam stepped through the cracked street, boots crunching over broken glass and shell casings. He didn't run. He didn't posture. His aura flared softly around him just enough to remind the world that he was there.
Lavin pointed a blade toward him, his stance wide and violent. "No masks. No myths. Just us again."
Shivam's voice came low, almost tender in its finality. "Then let's finish what you started."
The air tightened around them.
Shivam stepped forward slowly, his boots grinding across the cracked stone, past the ash, past the civilians and rebels who had formed a silent, unconscious circle around them. The battlefield had frozen in time. Rebels paused in their advances; Dominion soldiers hesitated in their defense. Even the screaming of plasma cannons and the mechanical growls of artillery blurred into the background.
All eyes turned to the two figures standing beneath the smoke veiled sky.
Lavin moved first.
He lunged like a dagger unsheathed fast, violent, unrestrained. His strikes were pure fury, each one forged from years of resentment, buried jealousy, and twisted purpose. His fists glowed with sickly violet Noctirum veins, and his aura pulsed in erratic waves, distorting the very air around him. Reality shimmered where he struck, his mental disruption field attempting to tear through Shivam's senses.
But Shivam didn't flinch.
He didn't meet rage with rage. He sidestepped the first jab, pivoted with the second, and ducked beneath the third. His movements were clean, silent, almost meditative. His strength wasn't in overpowering but in precision. Each block was perfectly timed, each redirection calculated to drain Lavin's momentum. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't mythical. It was mastery. The culmination of days spent honing his body, weeks balancing his mind, and months carrying the weight of others.
Lavin's shouts turned feral. He spun low, aiming a crackling sweep at Shivam's legs, but Shivam leapt, his body barely brushing the air as he landed behind him. Another punch came a straight shot for the ribs. Shivam twisted, caught Lavin's wrist, and held.
For a heartbeat, they locked eyes.
And in that moment, Lavin knew.
He was no longer fighting the same boy who had stumbled through the Samaypur mines. This wasn't the Spark he had once tried to break with fear and doubt.
This was something far stronger.
With a grunt, Lavin twisted free and launched a double strike, one hand reaching for Shivam's throat, the other charging with a pulse meant to disrupt neurological function. But Shivam moved inside the arc. His elbow crashed into Lavin's forearm, his shoulder dipped, and with one clean, brutal motion
He grabbed Lavin by the throat. The world slowed. Gasps echoed across the square. Lavin's feet left the ground.
With a roar that came from deep within not of rage, but of release Shivam lifted him high, then brought him crashing down with thunderous force. The stone beneath them shattered. A crater erupted from the impact, dust exploding outward like a ripple of judgment.
Lavin groaned, blood trickling from his temple, his armor dented and sparking. He writhed beneath Shivam's grip, eyes wide in disbelief. The pain wasn't just physical it was humiliating. Cracks spread beneath him, as if the city itself rejected his claim.
Gasping, he looked up through blurred vision. "You're… not supposed to be here…"
Shivam's face was solemn, quiet, his voice carrying the weight of every loss, every mistake, every step that led to this moment.
"Neither were you," he said. "This was never your world to claim."
Footsteps echoed from behind.
Agastya arrived first, his robes streaked with dust and sweat, eyes narrowed with the grim resolve of someone who had seen this day in every dream and every nightmare. Behind him came Commander Vidhart and a squad of elite rebel enforcers armor marked with the rebellion's crest; weapons slung but ready.
They carried a small case between them black, shielded, and humming with faint pulses.
"Noctirum disruptor cuffs," Vidhart said, kneeling beside the crater. "Custom built for someone just like him."
Agastya gave Shivam a small nod. "Step back, Spark. You've done enough."
Shivam hesitated for a breath, then released his grip. Lavin collapsed, coughing, still dazed. Two guards lifted him, locking the cuffs around his wrists and neck. The devices hummed to life, and Lavin's aura collapsed into silence. The sickly violet glow that had once pulsed through his veins flickered… then died.
The power was gone. He was just a man now. Broken. Bound. Shivam stood over him, chest rising and falling with effort, but his posture was steady. Not triumphant. Not arrogant. Just grounded.
Aanchal joined him on one side, her blade dripping with the remnants of her skirmish. Naina came next, brushing soot from her brow, eyes locked on the restrained enemy. Dikshant and Aman followed, helping injured rebels up and pushing Dominion stragglers toward containment lines.
The battle wasn't over. But the tide had turned. And the evil son had fallen. The gates of the Vedhyra prison groaned open behind them with a final metallic sigh, as if the floating city itself was exhaling its last withheld breath. Adhivita stepped out into the light, flanked closely by Pawan and Sumit, who still wore stolen Dominion armor scuffed with soot and blood. Her boots crunched over debris, and the crisp morning air drenched in smoke and the metallic tang of plasma rushed against her face like a slap back to reality.
For a second, she stood frozen at the edge of the battle ravaged district.
The city, once a pristine jewel in the clouds, lay torn open. Rubble lined the market lanes. Fires smoldered in shattered courtyards. Broken glass and torn banners fluttered together in the wind like forgotten prayers. And amid all of it, like stars burning through the ash, the rebellion surged.
Civilians with makeshift weapons fought alongside Grounds men and trained soldiers. Rebel flags flew from broken towers. The chant was rising low at first, then climbing. Echoing. Building.
"The Spark lives."
"The Spark rises."
Adhivita's breath caught in her throat. The words swept over her like a storm tide.
And then she saw him.
Through the haze and fractured walls, his figure emerged like a sunlit statue through fog. Shivam stood amidst the wreckage, shoulders squared, blood and ash streaking his face. His aura, once uncertain and flickering, now burned low and steady like a forge that could not be extinguished.
Around him stood his team. Naina, bow lowered. Aanchal, sword sheathed but hand still tight. Dikshant and Aman, bruised but alive. And behind them, Lavin, cuffed and dragged into containment by rebel elites.
Adhivita didn't move for a moment. Her heart raced. Her mind screamed. But her feet they finally obeyed. She ran. From the palace balcony high above, Navik watched.
The wind lifted the hem of his cloak as he stood motionless, surrounded by dark armored high guards. His expression was unreadable cold, perhaps, or something far deeper. He said nothing as he looked down at his daughter sprinting toward the rebellion. At his son defeated and restrained. At the Spark rising not in secret, but in the open daylight of his capital.
One of his captains stepped forward cautiously. "Sir. The core is active. They say it's unstable Let it burn," Navik said, his voice low and resolute. "I will return before the final surge."
He turned from the balcony, the weight of centuries of conquest heavy on his shoulders. His black armored guards fell into step behind him without a word.
"Mount up," Navik said as he walked. "Ready the eastern gates. This ends before the sun reaches its peak."
The halls of the Dominion palace trembled. Deep in the vault below the throne, the great core laced with glowing Noctirum and spiraling arrays whined with a rising pulse. The machine that tore the seams between worlds was no longer dormant. It spun, it sparked, it drank from the raw veins of the earth. Scientists scrambled across platforms shouting codes, shielding their eyes from the arc light blaze.
Above them, in the upper chambers, the last great army of the Dominion was preparing to march. Back on the battlefield, Shivam turned at the sound of feet skidding on stone. He saw her.
Adhivita. Her hair tied back hastily, her eyes burning, her hands trembling not from fear, but from everything she had just learned. Her gaze met his like lightning striking still water.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Around them, the world still roared. Civilians clashed with remaining Dominion forces, rebels set up perimeters, medics dragged wounded from fire lit alleys but all of it, in that moment, fell away.
Only they remained. She ran faster. His foot stepped forward.
And above it all, unseen but inevitable, the Dominion high guard began their descent toward war led by a Commander who had once dreamed of peace, now sworn to rip the stars open to resurrect a past that would never return.
The sun had not yet reached its height. But the final hour had begun.