The Ocean of Milk surged.
What had been calm only moments before now heaved and rolled as if a giant heart had begun to beat beneath its surface. White waves rose high, crashing against the shores where devas and asuras stood gripping Vasuki's coiled body.
Mount Mandara continued to sink.
Its massive base vanished into the glowing waters, and with every moment, more of its dark stone was swallowed.
Cries rose from both sides.
"It's going under!"
"The mountain will be lost!"
"Hold it! Hold it!"
Ganesh felt the pull like a wound opening in the world.
"The ocean cannot carry its weight," he said, voice tight. "If Mandara sinks fully, it will vanish into the depths. The churning will never begin."
Aneet stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the trembling waters. "Then something else must carry it."
Ganesh closed his eyes and reached inward, toward the still presence he had felt since leaving Svarga.
"Gurudev," he whispered. "Now."
The ocean answered.
A deep rumble rolled across the waters, not like thunder, but like the sound of stone grinding against stone far below.
The waves parted.
From the glowing depths, a vast dark shape began to rise.
At first, only a shadow could be seen beneath the white surface. Then the waters broke, and a colossal form emerged — broad, ancient, and impossibly steady.
It was Kurma.
The tortoise avatar of Vishnu.
His shell was like a mountain itself, etched with patterns that glowed faintly, as if the stars were carved into it. Water poured off his sides in endless streams as he rose higher, until his massive back stood firm just beneath the sinking Mandara.
The ocean seemed to still in his presence.
Even the waves quieted.
A hush fell across devas and asuras alike.
Vishnu's voice echoed across the shore, calm and steady.
"Do not fear. I will bear it."
Kurma shifted slightly, positioning himself beneath Mandara. The sinking mountain slowed… then stopped.
Slowly, carefully, Mandara settled onto the vast shell.
The tremors eased.
The ocean's fury softened.
The cosmos exhaled.
Ganesh felt the pressure lift from the world, though the strain was still immense.
"He holds it," Ganesh said softly. "He carries the weight of the churning itself."
Aneet watched in awe. "Even the ocean rests when he stands."
Indra stepped forward, raising his vajra high.
"Kurma has come! The foundation is set! Now — take hold!"
On both shores, devas and asuras tightened their grips on Vasuki.
The great serpent hissed softly as the tension ran through his coils.
"Be ready," Vasuki said. "Once you pull, I will not be able to spare either side."
Mahabali shouted to his people, "Stand firm! Do not let the rope slack!"
Indra called to the devas, "Together! Pull as one!"
Ganesh moved closer to the base of Mandara, feeling the mountain vibrate above Kurma's shell.
Aneet stayed near him.
"You'll feel the strain first," she said.
Ganesh nodded. "And so will he."
He placed his palm against the rock again, not to move it now, but to sense its balance.
"Easy," he murmured, as if speaking to a living being. "You have a bearer now."
Then Indra gave the signal.
"Pull!"
The devas leaned back with all their strength, drawing Vasuki's tail.
Across the shore, Mahabali roared, "Now!" and the asuras pulled the serpent's head in the opposite direction.
Vasuki's massive body tightened around Mandara.
The mountain groaned.
And slowly… it began to turn.
The first movement was small — barely a shift.
But then it grew.
Stone scraped against shell.
The ocean around Mandara began to swirl.
White light streaked across the water as the churning began.
A low roar rose from the depths, growing louder with each turn.
Ganesh felt the fire within him flare.
"It has begun," he said.
As Mandara turned, the Ocean of Milk started to change.
What had been smooth now twisted into spirals. The water around the base glowed brighter, forming a massive whirlpool that spread outward.
The sky darkened slightly, clouds gathering as if drawn by the motion below.
Aneet shielded her eyes. "The ocean is waking."
Ganesh replied, "No. It is being forced to give up what it hides."
The strain on both sides grew quickly.
Devas staggered, their footing slipping on the glowing shore. Asuras planted their feet deeper, muscles straining.
Vasuki hissed in pain as his coils tightened and loosened again and again.
"Steady!" he roared. "Do not jerk the rope, or I will tear!"
Ganesh felt the tension run through the serpent's body like fire through a cord.
He called out, "Pull in rhythm! Not in anger!"
Mahabali heard him and shouted to his people, "Listen to him! Together — now!"
Indra echoed, "Match their pull! Do not rush!"
Slowly, a rhythm formed.
Pull.
Hold.
Release.
Pull again.
Mandara's turning became steadier.
The whirlpool widened.
The ocean's glow deepened.
Above it all, Kurma remained unmoving.
Wave after wave crashed against his shell, but he did not shift.
Ganesh could feel his presence — vast, silent, enduring.
"He bears more than stone," Ganesh whispered. "He bears our impatience."
Aneet nodded. "And our fear."
Hours seemed to pass, though time itself felt stretched by the churning.
Sweat and light ran down devas and asuras alike. Some collapsed, replaced by others. Yet the rope never slackened.
Ganesh moved between the two sides, watching, sensing when the balance began to tilt too far one way.
When asuras pulled too hard, he signaled them to ease.
When devas faltered, he stepped near, his presence steadying their will.
Aneet followed, guiding the exhausted away, bringing calm where tempers flared.
Already, small arguments began.
"You're not pulling hard enough!"
"You're trying to tire us!"
"This is your trick!"
Ganesh raised his voice. "If you turn this into rivalry, the mountain will break before the ocean does!"
His words cut through the noise.
For a while, they listened.
At the center, as Mandara turned again and again, something changed in the depths.
The ocean's glow darkened slightly.
The whirlpool deepened.
A heavy feeling rose in the air, sharp and bitter, like smoke before fire.
Aneet's eyes widened. "Do you feel that?"
Ganesh nodded slowly. "Yes."
He turned his gaze toward the distant presence of his guru.
"The poison," he said softly. "It is close."
Far away, unseen by most, Shiva opened his eyes.
He felt it too.
The first shadow from the depths of creation was rising.
And when it came, no one would remain untouched.