Chapter 8 : The Mark of Mahakal
Thunder rolled over Delhi.
Dark clouds hung low, as if the heavens themselves watched what had begun.
Yash gasped awake — his body drenched in sweat, lying on the cold floor of a ruined ashram.
Broken idols surrounded him, and in the distance, the faint sound of temple bells echoed.
For a moment, he didn't know where he was.
Then the memories hit — the seal, the light, Vayun, Nandini, Aarav… everything.
He looked down.
On his right arm, a glowing symbol shimmered — a trident surrounded by a coiled serpent.
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
"What… what is happening to me?" Yash whispered.
A voice answered — calm, ancient, inside his mind.
> "You have been chosen, Yash. The Seal of Dharma now lives through you."
Yash clutched his head. "Who are you?!"
> "I am what remains of Mahākāla — the one who guards the balance of existence.
But now, darkness has been released… and the balance is breaking."
The voice faded. Yash was left trembling.
He looked around — the ashram was covered in ancient carvings and Sanskrit verses.
One of them caught his eye — glowing faintly on the wall:
> "यदा धर्मस्य ग्लानिर्भवति भारत…"
"Whenever dharma declines, I shall return."
Yash touched the inscription — and the air rippled.
A faint figure appeared before him — a man draped in saffron robes, his eyes glowing blue like fire.
"Who… are you?" Yash asked.
The man smiled. "A messenger. I serve the Brotherhood of Light — those who guard the path of Dharma.
You are one of us now, Yash. But your awakening has drawn many eyes."
"Where is Aarav? And Dr. Nandini?" Yash demanded.
The figure's smile faded.
"They are alive… but scattered. The Raksha Mandala took Nandini. Aarav's soul fights a battle within — against the serpent's curse."
Yash's fists clenched. "Then I have to find them."
The messenger nodded. "You will. But not before you learn control. The mark on your arm — it binds you to the power of Mahākāla. It can destroy… or protect. The choice is yours."
Suddenly, the sky thundered again — and a black mist began forming outside the ashram gates.
"They've found you again," the messenger said urgently.
"Remember this mantra — it is your shield."
He raised his hand, chanting:
> "ॐ नमः महाकालाय त्रिनेत्रायाय धीमहि।"
A circle of light appeared beneath Yash's feet — glowing brighter with every breath.
But before he could react, the messenger vanished into thin air.
Outside, dark figures appeared — their eyes red, their chants filling the air.
Yash felt the mark on his arm burn. His heartbeat matched the rhythm of the storm.
He raised his hand.
Lightning flashed — and a trident made of pure light formed once again.
"This time," Yash said quietly, "I won't run."
The storm roared, the Raksha Mandala attacked, and the air itself split apart as divine and demonic energies collided.
And above it all —
A serpent-shaped shadow appeared in the clouds, watching.
The war of Dharma had truly begun.