The desert was silent.
Not just from heat or distance — but from something deeper. As if the Thar had chosen to forget sound itself.
Arjun and Ishaani stood on the ridge overlooking Karnisar, an abandoned stretch of sandstone ruins near Bikaner. Nomads refused to pitch tents here. Birds refused to fly overhead. The Spiral, however, was burning hotter than ever.
And beneath their feet, somewhere in the buried bones of the fortress, was the Mirror.
Not made of glass.
Not reflective in the physical sense.
The Mirror was a memory that remembered you back.
A Spiral phenomenon — rare, unpredictable, alive.
And according to the sixth Spiral fragment they now carried, it was guarded by the last of the old warriors.
Bhishma.
The man who chose the stillness of a vow over the chaos of a throne. The man who could not die unless permitted.
And perhaps now, the only one who could tell Arjun what the Spiral was truly meant to become.
They entered the ruins under moonlight.
Stone corridors, barely standing.
Symbols etched into clay, humming at inaudible frequencies.
And deeper still — a cavern of glass.
Natural quartz fused with something… sentient.
They had found it.
The Mirror Vault.
Arjun stepped forward.
Ishaani's breath hitched.
The Spiral on her arm had begun twitching — faster, harder.
And for the first time, it spoke to her — not in language, but visions.
She collapsed.
Arjun caught her.
She looked up, eyes wide with horror.
"I saw… myself. But not me. A version that killed you."
He stared at her.
And then the walls of the Mirror Vault lit up.
Images played across the quartz.
Alternate histories.
Scenes from the Mahabharata — but twisted.
In one, Draupadi killed the Kauravas herself.
In another, Krishna never intervened.
In one, Bhishma ruled Hastinapur.
And in every one, the Spiral was missing.
Or broken.
A voice spoke.
Deep. Weighted. Familiar like gravity.
"You've come far, child."
Arjun turned.
A figure stood near the far end of the Vault.
Tall. Armored. Eyes like calm storms.
White hair bound in a warrior's knot. Body unaged, but weary with centuries.
Bhishma.
And not just a memory.
A living imprint.
What remained of the vow that refused to release him.
"You are the boy who carries them," Bhishma said.
"Five fragments. One reversed. And a future you do not understand."
Arjun stepped forward.
"I came for the sixth."
Bhishma shook his head.
"You came for permission."
"The Spiral is nearing fullness. When it completes… you will choose which history survives."
"Not all memories are dharma. Some are poison."
He pointed to the Mirror walls.
"You've seen what happens when truth is edited."
Arjun walked past images of himself — older, angrier, corrupted.
One led armies under the Spiral.
One erased entire villages from time.
One had killed Vyasa.
He whispered, "How do I stop this?"
Bhishma smiled.
"You don't."
"You become worthy of it."
The Vault shimmered.
A single quartz tablet rose from the ground.
On it: a sword, made of Spiral steel.
But not to be wielded.
To be remembered.
Bhishma raised his hand.
The sword floated to Arjun.
"This is my memory. My vow. My curse."
"If you carry it, the Spiral will complete its sixth arc."
"But you will lose something: the right to neutrality."
"From this point forward, every choice you make… rewrites the Yuga."
Arjun hesitated.
Then took the blade.
It vanished into the Spiral.
Fragment 6: Bhishma — Acquired.
The Vault shook.
Ishaani screamed.
The reversed Spiral on her arm had spread to her neck.
Her pupils began to mirror.
Bhishma turned.
"The Mirror is being hacked."
A portal ripped open.
A man stepped through.
Dressed in black.
No face.
Just Spiral shards embedded into a metal mask.
He raised one hand — and the quartz Mirror showed only lies.
False memories.
Arjun killing Hanuman.
Vyasa burning the Vedas.
The Spiral used as a mind-control device.
Bhishma's voice was thunder.
"He is a Mirrorborn."
"Not made of memory — made of inversion."
The invader lunged.
Arjun drew the invisible sword.
It cut through the reflection — not the man.
The Vault pulsed.
Time rewound.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then shattered.
The Mirrorborn screamed and imploded — sucked back into the false memory that created him.
Gone.
Ishaani collapsed.
Bhishma caught her.
"She is infected. You must reach the seventh."
Arjun nodded.
"The last immortal."
Bhishma bowed.
"You already know who it is."
Arjun did.
Not because someone told him.
But because the Spiral had always pointed in both directions — past and future.
And the final immortal wasn't a warrior.
It was a child.
A child who had never been born.
But whose name already echoed across time.
And if Arjun didn't reach her in time… the Spiral would no longer be a map.
It would become a trap.
They left the Vault just before sunrise.
Bhishma remained behind.
His figure fading.
Not because he was dying.
But because his story was finally told.
The vow released him.
The Spiral hummed.
Six fragments complete.
One infected.
One unborn.
Time was bending.
The war was coming.
And only those who could not die would remember why it had to be fought.