The light that greeted them was not sunlight.
It was something older — gold and soft, humming with the pulse of an age that refused to die.
The gates of Maharaja Bali's court opened like a dream finally breathing. Inside, torches burned with liquid flame; and at the center, on a throne woven of roots and light, sat Bali himself — serene, radiant, timeless.
Parth stepped forward, shoulders squared but eyes thoughtful. Aarav and Neel walked behind him, both bruised but silent.
And then — a cry.
> "Took you long enough!"
Sia's voice cracked through the hall. She ran toward them, her hair disheveled, expression a mix of relief and irritation. Avni and Meera followed close behind, eyes bright with disbelief.
Before anyone could react, Sia punched Parth lightly on the arm.
> "I thought that you lost yourself again."
Parth smiled faintly. "We were… busy being tested." He was happy that Sia way back to being herself again and he decided not to mention the 'Subhadra topic' for some days.
> "You look like you lost a wrestling match with a volcano," Sia shot back.
But even as she spoke, her eyes softened. "You're safe. That's what matters."
The laughter faded as Bali chuckled a bit at their banter. His presence filled the chamber like music through stone.
> "You have returned. The test of endurance has passed. But your journey has not ended."
He turned to Parth.
> "Ask, son of Indra. You carry a question that burns brighter than your fear."
Parth hesitated for a moment, then bowed low.
> "Maharaja, when the Yuga ends, when the world forgets what light means — what remains for those who still wish to walk the right path?"
The hall grew silent. Even the torches leaned toward his voice.
Bali's eyes softened — deep, endless wells of knowing.
> "When Yugas end, men think the gods have left them," Bali said slowly. "But they forget — every ending is also an echo of a promise."
He stepped down from the throne, his steps soundless.
> "At the end of an age, only two forces survive: debt and devotion.
Debt binds souls to return. Devotion frees them.
When the earth is eaten hollow by greed, when men sell prayers for coins — those who still love without wanting are the seeds of the next dawn."
He paused beside Parth and touched his shoulder gently.
> "You asked what remains — intention. That alone is immortal."
Aarav swallowed, voice rough.
> "Then… there's still hope for this world?"
Bali's lips curved faintly.
> "Hope never dies, child. It only sleeps. Until the horse of light rides again."
The mention made Parth's chest tighten. Somewhere deep within, the words stirred something old — a memory of prophecy, of a horse white as dawn, and a warrior who would end the darkness itself.
> "Kalki... Madhav." Parth murmured.
Bali nodded once.
> "Yes. The last avatar. But before he rises, you must learn what darkness has become. Go now. Return to your world. Time has moved faster than you think."
The ground trembled softly beneath their feet. The staircase of light reappeared — the same one that had brought them down.
The girls gathered close, hesitant. Meera whispered, "Will we see you again?"
> "You will," Bali said, smiling. "When you've forgotten who you are — and must be reminded again."
They began their ascent. The air grew colder, thinner.
Then the light broke.
---
When they stepped out, it was like waking into a nightmare of glass.
The bungalow was gone.
In its place stood a massive shopping mall — metallic, empty, and echoing. The logo on the door read "Aether Plaza" in flickering blue letters.
Aarav blinked.
> "This… can't be right."
Neel brushed dust from a cracked holographic panel. It flickered and spoke in a mechanical female voice:
> "Welcome to Aether Plaza. Please scan your Credit Rank to proceed."
Sia frowned. "Credit Rank? What are we, game characters?"
She touched the panel. The voice snapped:
> "Error. Insufficient privilege."
"Rude," Sia muttered.
They began to walk through the mall. Broken escalators, scattered glass, rusting machines that still tried to hum songs.
A faint drone buzzed overhead, scanning them with a beam of blue light before flying away.
Avni stared at a glowing cube inside a store window. It shifted colors when she moved.
> "What… is this?" she whispered.
Aarav shook his head. "Feels like we're trespassing in our own future."
They climbed the final staircase — the same one that once led to their home — and stepped outside.
The sky was no longer blue. It was bronze, thick with metallic haze.
No trees.
No birds.
Just towers that rose like tombstones, their surfaces glittering with artificial light.
People slept on the roads — some barely alive, wrapped in sheets of plastic.
Cars floated silently above them, sleek and unreachable.
No laughter. No color.
Meera's voice broke.
> "This isn't our world."
Sia's sarcasm was gone. "It's… hollow."
They walked further down the street, avoiding the bodies.
Then Parth stopped beside a man slumped against a wall — gaunt, trembling, eyes bloodshot.
> "Brother," Parth said gently. "What year is this?"
The man looked up, voice rasping like sand.
> "Year? 2372… Where've you been, boy? Sleeping underground?"
Parth froze.
Aarav stepped back as if struck.
Meera covered her mouth.
Avni began crying quietly, tears streaking her dirt-smudged face.
Neel just stood there, eyes empty.
Sia whispered, voice trembling, "Three days down there… three hundred years up here."
The man laughed — a dry, hungry sound.
His teeth were cracked, his skin gray.
Then his eyes sharpened, glinting with an animal's hunger.
> "You smell fresh," he said, licking his lips. "Real flesh. Real blood."
He lunged forward suddenly — crawling, snapping, snarling like a starving beast.
Parth moved instantly, pulling Sia behind him. His eyes flared, instinct rising, hands curling as if to draw a bow that wasn't there.
The air itself seemed to shiver around him.
The man stopped, eyes widening in terror.
Then he scuttled back into the shadows, muttering something about "the blessed ones" and "light eaters."
The silence that followed was heavier than any battle.
Aarav whispered, "What happened to this world?"
Parth looked up at the sky — the bronze clouds, the hollow lights.
And in the distance, thunder rolled faintly, like a drumbeat waiting for war.
> "Kali happened," he said quietly. "And Kalki hasn't risen yet."