The jungle was silent under the weight of night. Moonlight slipped through gaps in the trees, falling on a path long forgotten, overgrown with roots and weeds. At the end of that path stood an ancient temple, half-buried in earth and shadow. Its spire leaned with age, and rusted bells swayed faintly, producing hollow sounds whenever the wind touched them.
Inside, the air was heavy with dust and the faint scent of oil lamps. Carvings on the stone walls glowed faintly as if they remembered prayers whispered centuries ago. At the center sat an old man, cross-legged in silence. His name was Arthan. His long white hair rested on his shoulders, and his eyes glowed like embers that had never died.
The temple doors creaked. A young traveler stepped in, breathing heavily as though he had walked miles guided only by instinct. His name was Ishaan. For weeks he had felt drawn to something unknown, as if the mountains themselves had been calling. Tonight, he had found its source.
Arthan lifted his gaze. "You came," he said, voice deep and steady. "Not by chance, Ishaan. Destiny led you here."
Ishaan hesitated, his voice unsteady. "Why does it feel as if I was expected?"
Without answering, Arthan pressed his palm against a carved slab of stone. The ground rumbled, and a hidden chamber slid open in the floor. From the darkness rose a rush of cold air, carrying with it a strange force. Inside lay a manuscript, wrapped in ancient cloth, symbols glowing faintly across its cover.
Arthan touched the manuscript with reverence. "This is the Sacred Book. Knowledge beyond time lies within it. But knowledge is power — and power can destroy. The world is not ready for what is inside. It must be carried to the hidden valley of Gyanganj, beyond the northern mountains."
Ishaan's heart pounded. "Why me?"
Arthan's eyes narrowed, sharp as lightning. "Because the book has chosen you."
He leaned closer. "But you cannot leave yet. Before you step into the world carrying this weight, you must be tested. The mind. The heart. The body. Only if you pass will you be worthy to walk this path."
The temple shuddered as if awakened by his words. On the walls, carvings began to glow brighter, forming shapes of four guardian figures. Their eyes blazed with silent judgment, and one space among them stood empty.
Arthan's voice rose like thunder. "Name their essence. Not just words, but meaning. Speak, and the gate of destiny will open."
Ishaan opened his mouth, searching for words — but before he could speak, a violent crash thundered at the temple doors. Voices shouted. Metal clashed. Shadows loomed outside.
Arthan's face hardened. "They are here," he said grimly. "Men who lust for power. They have followed the whispers of this book."
The doors shook violently as treasure hunters forced their way in. The scent of smoke and steel flooded the air.
Arthan turned to Ishaan, pressing the manuscript into his hands. His voice cut through the chaos: "Go. Your trials have begun. Your enemies are not only out there…" He pointed to Ishaan's chest. "…they are also in here."
A narrow stone passage opened in the wall. Ishaan stumbled into the darkness, clutching the book. Cold air wrapped around him, and the world inside twisted. Shapes formed in the shadows — his failures, his regrets, the people he had disappointed. Chains of fear bound him.
"It's not real," Ishaan gasped. But the visions tightened, suffocating him.
Then, faint through the stone, Arthan's voice echoed: "Face them, Ishaan. Accept the truth — or be consumed by it."
Tears stung his eyes as he forced himself to speak. "Yes, I failed. Yes, I feared. But I will not run anymore."
The illusions shattered. Light filled the passage, and the way forward opened.
Behind him, the temple shook with cries of battle. Arthan's chants rose like fire as he faced the intruders alone. Ishaan clutched the book tightly, stepped into the unknown passage, and felt the mountains calling him forward.
Far above, thunder rolled across the sky — as though the Himalayas themselves had awakened to witness the beginning of his journey.