The first thing Aarav felt was sound.
Low, rhythmic, echoing — like waves colliding against stone. Temple bells, maybe.
Then came light.
A blinding, golden light spilling through the cracks in the walls.
His body felt heavy, like it had been sleeping for years. When he finally opened his eyes, the ceiling above him wasn't the one he remembered — it was painted with fading murals of gods and wars long gone.
He was lying on the cold floor of Jagannath Mandir.
For a moment, he didn't move. He didn't even breathe. His mind replayed flashes — waves swallowing cities, men turning into beasts, a horse of light tearing through storm clouds — and then, nothing.
Silence.
The door creaked.
> "Aarav…?"
It was Avni. Her voice cracked mid-syllable as she ran to him, nearly tripping over the step. Her hair was messy, eyes swollen. She froze for a second — as if afraid this was another dream — and then dropped beside him.
> "You're awake— you're actually awake—"
Her voice broke. She buried her face in his shoulder, trembling.
Aarav blinked once, twice, trying to ground himself. "I… guess I am."
She pulled back, tears streaking her cheeks. "You were gone for days, Aarav. You weren't breathing. We tried everything—"
He smiled faintly, though his eyes were distant. "I just… saw too much."
Avni frowned, searching his face. "What do you mean?"
But he didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on the far end of the room, where incense smoke curled upward toward the idol. The sound of distant waves reached them faintly through the temple corridor.
Then footsteps.
Parth entered first, with Neel right behind him. Sia followed, quieter than usual. Hanuman ji trailed last, serene as always, hands folded behind his back.
Avni stood up quickly, wiping her face. "He's awake."
Parth exhaled in relief and knelt beside Aarav. "You scared us all, you idiot."
Neel gave a rare half-smile. "We thought we'd have to drag your spirit out of wherever you went."
Aarav slowly sat up, leaning against the stone pillar. His expression didn't change.
> "Don't," he said quietly, eyes on Neel. "Don't come closer."
Neel froze, surprised. "Why—?"
Aarav turned his gaze toward Hanuman ji. "I want to talk to you alone, Lord Hanuman. With no one else around."
The air shifted. Even Parth's steady composure faltered for a second.
Hanuman ji tilted his head slightly — not shocked, but knowing. "Very well."
Parth frowned. "Are you sure you—"
> "Please, Parth."
There was no pleading in Aarav's voice — only calm finality.
Hanuman ji placed a hand on Parth's shoulder. "Let him."
The others exchanged uneasy looks but left the chamber quietly. The heavy temple door shut behind them, leaving only the two of them — the silence thick, almost sacred.
Hanuman ji stepped closer, his presence warm and steady.
> "So," he said softly, "you've seen it all already?"
Aarav didn't look up. His fingers were clasped loosely together, trembling faintly. He nodded once.
> "I saw everything," he said. "And I wish I hadn't."
Hanuman ji's gaze softened. "Right now, you know what even I cannot. The stream of time rarely shows its full face… but you, Sahadeva — you always see too much."
Aarav gave a hollow smile. "Only this time, it's a thousand times worse."
He stopped mid-sentence, voice breaking under the weight of unspoken horrors.
Hanuman ji sighed, sitting beside him on the cold floor. "It must be hard for you. To know what's coming and still carry it. Knowledge can be cruel, my friend."
Aarav's eyes glistened briefly — not with tears, but with exhaustion. "I wish I could forget."
Hanuman ji looked at him with a sad smile. "You can't. That's not your dharma. You'll walk this path knowing the end, but you must not speak of it."
> "I know."
"Can you bear it?"
Aarav finally looked up — eyes haunted, but steady. "I always did, didn't I?"
Hanuman ji smiled faintly — not with joy, but with respect. "Then go by the flow, child. You already know the river's end."
He rose to his feet and placed his hand gently on Aarav's head. "But don't lose yourself before the tide comes."
As he walked toward the door, the wind outside picked up, carrying the scent of rain.
Aarav sat alone, staring at the stone floor where cracks looked like rivers branching out — one of them ending right beneath his hand.
> "Go by the flow," he repeated softly.
"Even if I know where it leads."
And somewhere beyond the temple walls, thunder rumbled faintly — like destiny breathing again.
—