The silver road grew faint behind him, its rhythm now pulsing in harmony with his wings. Krish walked forward, each step steady, yet something within him stirred—an echo deeper than Time itself.
The void trembled.
From the depths of his body, four hidden pulses awakened. At first faint, like embers buried beneath ash, but with every heartbeat they grew brighter, until the very air around him shook with their resonance.
🌿 A green flame unfurled within his chest, carrying warmth, breath, and the fragrance of endless renewal. It was the essence of Life.
☠️ A shadow flickered within his bones, colder than death itself, carrying the silence of endings. It was the essence of Death.
✨ A golden spark glowed within his veins, weaving unseen threads that sought to form worlds with every beat of his heart. It was the essence of Creation.
⚡ A crimson storm rumbled in his core, tearing and devouring, a force that promised to erase all before it. It was the essence of Destruction.
Krish staggered slightly, his wings trembling as the four flames surged together, each demanding dominance. His body felt as though it would tear apart—his soul a battlefield where beginnings clashed with endings, where creation struggled against ruin.
The ribbon on his neck glowed faintly, stabilizing him, its cool presence whispering fragments of balance.
Then, a voice rose—not from the void, but from within his own being.
"These four do not lie beyond you. They are not trials to be walked, nor gates to be crossed. They are your hidden inheritance… sealed until now."
Krish gritted his teeth, forcing his wings to beat, steadying himself against the storm within. The four flames surged again, pressing against his veins, his bones, his soul. Each sought to devour the other, yet each was incomplete without the rest.
His voice echoed, calm despite the turmoil:
"Life without Death is endless suffering. Death without Life is emptiness. Creation without Destruction is stagnation. Destruction without Creation is void. I will not let one claim me. I will bear them all."
The flames pulsed in defiance. His body cracked under their weight. For an instant, he felt as though he would collapse into dust.
But then, his wings flared—light, shadow, spark, and storm weaving together. The four flames no longer fought against him, but circled around his core, embedding themselves within his essence.
A new rhythm surged through him. Not one element, not two, but four truths entwined.
Life. Death. Creation. Destruction.
Hidden no longer—they were now part of Krish.
The silver road before him shattered into countless stars, and from their glow emerged a new horizon, as if the Earth-Level Universe itself had accepted what lay within him.
Krish straightened, his wings radiant, his body carrying the pulse of beginnings and endings alike. His path forward was no longer borrowed from the cosmos—
It was carved from within.
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