"Welcome to our shop," a manly yet gentle voice came as soon as they entered.
"Thanks!" Krul said in her usual energetic tone.
Inside, the shop was enveloped in a calm, soothing stillness—as if a gentle spell had wrapped it in silence. It felt completely disconnected from the outside world—like stepping into another dimension. A dimension far removed from the one they lived in.
"Let's check out the instruments, and if you find something that interests you, don't hesitate to tell us right away, okay Aaryan?" Aureya said, a bright smile on her face.
"Aaryan. Aaryan!! Why aren't you saying anything?"
"Huh? Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts and didn't hear you," said Aaryan. His face was visibly pale, sweat dripping from his brow, his hands trembling slightly. It seemed like he was hiding something.
"And what were you thinking about, handsome?" Krul teased.
"Shut up, Krul," Aureya said. "And Aaryan,"—her voice strict, yet filled with warmth and concern—"are you really feeling well? Your face is very pale. If you're not feeling well, then—"
Aaryan interrupted her. "No, there's no need. I'm completely fine. Besides, I-I... don't want to ruin tonight."
"Saying you're fine doesn't explain why you look like you've seen a ghost," Aureya replied, her voice low with concern and care shimmering in her eyes.
"What she's saying is right. You should listen to her, young man," the shopkeeper spoke. His voice was commanding, yet gentle—like a father's.
"Thanks for your concern, but I really am fine," Aaryan said, though his trembling legs and pale face betrayed him. "Now, let's go see the instruments they sell here." He smiled—but it was hollow, like a curtain masking something behind it.
"If you say so. But tell me instantly if you feel anything," she said softly.
"Okay. If I feel anything, I'll tell you immediately. But for now, let's check out the instruments," Aaryan replied.
From there, they explored the shop. They saw and played many instruments. Time passed quickly—laughing, playing, teasing, praising. Everything felt peaceful, like a brief moment in heaven.
Suddenly, something caught Aaryan's eye. He walked toward it and picked it up—a black flute. It had several cracks, yet when he blew into it, a hauntingly beautiful sound emerged.
But he stopped immediately. The air grew colder the moment the sound ended, as if the room had exhaled.
Sweat gathered on his forehead, and he dropped to his knees. The others rushed to his side.
"What happened? Why did you fall to the ground?" Aureya asked, placing a hand on his forehead.
"His body temperature isn't high... but it's not normal either. It's—his body is cold, so cold, as it's frozen. Did he not feel it? Or is he pretending to be fine so we don't worry? If that's the case, then..."
Aureya then used her powers to normalize his temperature and to make him feel better.
After a few seconds, she gently lifted her hand off his forehead. "Are you okay? Your temperature is normal now, but you look fragile. Can you stand?" Her voice was kind and steady.
"Yeah. I can," he replied, his voice shaky. Steam escaped from his lips as he spoke. He slowly stood and assured them it was just a trip.
No one believed him—but they chose to act as if his words were true.
"Hey Aureya! Did you hear a melodious sound just before Aaryan fell?" Krul asked—not just to lighten the mood, but out of curiosity.
"Oh, yeah. I also heard the sound just before he fell," Aureya replied, her face clouded by confusion. She looked at the flute in his hand and asked:
"Did you play this flute? But how do you know how to play it? Is it some kind of muscle memory?" Suspicion mixed with surprise in her voice.
"Yes," he replied. "I picked it up out of interest, but... I don't know why—I just knew how to play it, even though it's the first time I've ever seen this instrument. And you both said you liked the sound."
He looked at the flute and thought:
"When I looked at this shop from afar, it pulled me in. Ever since I entered, I haven't felt well. It's like I stepped into another dimension. It feels like someone's watching me—someone who knows me better than I know myself.
But when I saw this black flute, all those feelings vanished. It was as if the one watching me wanted me to notice this flute.
I don't know how I know these things.
Why do I know this is called a flute?
Why do I know what money is?
Why do I know what the abyss is?
Why do I know about music and everything else—but not the most important thing... myself?
Just how... and why... did I reach the abyss? No normal human could do that.
But... am I really human?
Wha—what am I thinking? I-I am human. Like everyone else. I can talk, I can feel, I can cry, I feel pain. But what if I'm not? No. No! What am I saying?
Aside from the doubts about myself, why did the flute's sound seem pleasant to them? To me, it was horrible. Irritating. Unbearable. The sound clawed at my mind—like it could drive me insane if I listened for too long.
But the sound wasn't the worst part. It was the vision I saw after that."
"I saw someone taking the lives of divine beings.
A murderer cloaked in a strange white and golden aura.
He didn't attack them. Didn't pierce them. He only removed his blindfold... and looked at them.
The blindfold seemed like a cloth but it was something else—denial. The moment he removed it, his eyes consumed the being in front of him.
I couldn't see his eyes—yet I knew they were... mine.
The gods didn't scream. It was as if screaming was pointless—like they had accepted the inevitability of their death. Their eyes held no light, no will... only surrender. The gods, grand and radiant, collapsed like marionettes with strings severed. As if they faced a fate even divinity could not bend: the Absolute Fate—or Omega. That's what they called him.
He killed everyone. And yet, not a single stain marked his cloak.
A pure white cloak with golden stripes. His face hidden beneath the hood.
No way to tell if the killer was man or woman.
Then, the divine killer walked toward a god who was still alive—but broken. A god gripped by despair.
In that god's eyes, I saw something different—not resistance, but... recognition.
And then, I saw the killer's face.
It was mine.
The same expression.
The same hollow, dead eyes—full of loneliness and self-loathing.
The divine killer... was me."
"How is this possible? How could his face be mine?
Am I really not human?
Why is this happening to me?"
Aaryan clutched his temples. He wanted to scream—but no sound came. His breath caught in his throat as if the memory itself had reached out to strangle him.
To the outside world, it looked like Aaryan was just nervous. Just unwell. But inside, he was screaming—trapped in pain so deep even gods might flinch. Yet, for the sake of this night, he bore it in silence.
But how long could he endure it?
Meanwhile, at the palace :
"You've made a very wrong decision, Rudhav. Not only you would die because of it but also everyone else." Balt said, as soon as he woke up. "And the one who would get the last laugh would be those damn god-"
Rudhav suddenly attacked Balt again, but this time not with the guard of the sword but the blade. He stopped just an inch away Balt's throat.
"You know, I could've killed you right now for badmouthing the divinity, but I didn't because you're an important figure to the cosmos and the Anshes. So, live up to their expectations —and mine and don't ever try speaking ill of the divine as you already know the consequences." Rudhav ordered.
"Yes." Balt instinctively replied, his voice was shaking and his usual pride was gone. He surrendered himself to Rudhav, like a deer surrendering to a lion.
After that, all the Sarvansh left the room except one, Melissa.
Melissa is the leader of the Mayavi Army and research. Mayavi army is also known as the Army of Deception, and it is very strong only below 2 armies, at the top is Rudhav's and the second isn't of humans but rakshas, it's known as Paap.
"I don't think that Rudhav would go to such length to protect 'it'. Could it be that he knows something about it we don't know?"
Is Aaryan the divine killer, Omega?
What is the thing that only Rudhav knows?
Was that shop 'Swar' an ordinary instrument shop, or something grand.
To be continued -