They stood frozen beneath the violet sky.
Nothing made sense.
The air was dry, but laced with a metallic scent. Strange trees curved unnaturally upward. Even the gravity felt off — like they were walking in a dream that resisted their steps.
Dev broke the silence. "Okay... did we just teleport?"
"No one's gonna believe this," Roshan whispered.
In front of them stood an enormous stone gate, cracked with age but humming faintly with energy. Symbols floated in the air — foreign, ancient — yet somehow Maarun felt like he could almost read them.
Only those chosen by the Dice may pass.
The gate creaked open on its own.
Beyond it was a wide, walled settlement built into the side of a mountain. Towering spires of stone, open courtyards, and long stairways carved into rock — all of it worn and weathered. It felt old. Heavy with history.
They walked slowly, almost afraid to breathe too loudly.
"Is this... another planet?" Dev asked.
"Or some old forgotten part of Earth?" Roshan added.
Maarun said nothing. His palm still burned faintly where the dice symbol had appeared. He clenched his hand.
Then—
"Stambha!"
A voice roared from above.
In a blur, they were surrounded by armored warriors. Their armor wasn't polished or ornamental — it looked used. Faded. Scarred.
The leader stepped forward, dark-skinned and sharp-eyed, with a long scar across his face.
He pointed a spear toward Maarun's chest.
"State your rank and House," he ordered.
"Wait, what?" Roshan said, confused.
"We're not from here," Maarun said cautiously. "We don't even know what this place is."
The man narrowed his eyes.
"Trespassers."
"No— We're not! We didn't come here on purpose," Dev said quickly. "We found a dice—"
"The Dice?" the leader repeated, his voice suddenly more cautious. "Where did you get it?"
Maarun raised his hand slightly, showing the faint circle still glowing on his palm.
The leader exchanged looks with his soldiers.
"Restrain them."
The boys were led, hands bound, through long stone corridors. They passed open chambers where students practiced strange forms of combat, guided by silent robed teachers.
A carved inscription overhead read:
गुरुकुलम् — Gurukul
Discipline. Will. Mastery.
Eventually, they were thrown into a glowing containment cell, walls made of slow-moving golden symbols.
"I feel like I'm in jail inside a scroll," Roshan muttered.
Maarun sat silently, staring at the ceiling. "They don't trust us."
"No kidding," Dev muttered. "What now?"
Footsteps approached.
An older man entered, flanked by two guards. He had long greying hair tied back, and a deep red mark across his forehead. His robe bore the insignia of a coiled serpent — and his eyes were sharp with suspicion.
"I am Senapati Varunya, Head of Defense of this Gurukul," he said. "You crossed the Realm Gate — which has not opened in decades — and you claim it was accidental."
He folded his arms.
"Either you lie, or you've been sent."
"We're not spies," Maarun said. "We're students. From Earth."
Varunya's eyes narrowed at the name.
"Earth?" he repeated. "That world was sealed. Long ago."
"We don't know what that means," Dev replied. "We just picked up a weird dice and—"
"Enough." Varunya turned away. "This matter is not for me to decide."
He looked over his shoulder.
"You will be judged by Mahāsthāna Āchārya, Principal of the Gurukul. He alone has the authority what to do with you ."