Chapter 10 – Echoes of the River
The road to the ancient river felt endless.
Yash walked barefoot through the dense forest, his trident glowing faintly in the moonlight.
Every step echoed like a prayer — a silent chant for balance.
Wind whispered through the trees, carrying the faint sound of bells and distant chanting.
He could feel the pull — a connection, like an invisible thread guiding him.
> "Aarav… hold on," he murmured. "I'll bring you back."
At the edge of the forest, the Yamuna stretched wide and dark —
its waters glowing with an eerie, silver light.
Mist rolled across the banks, and the smell of incense and ash filled the air.
Suddenly, the ground trembled.
From the river, black smoke rose —
and with it, a figure emerged.
Aarav.
His eyes were no longer human — they gleamed like molten gold.
The mark of the serpent pulsed on his chest, glowing brighter with every heartbeat.
"Aarav…" Yash whispered.
Aarav tilted his head, half-smiling.
"Yash… you shouldn't have come. The balance is shifting. You'll only get in the way."
"I'm not here to fight you," Yash said calmly.
"I'm here to bring you back."
"Back?" Aarav laughed — a dark, hollow sound. "Do you even know what I am now? Do you know what it feels like to have a god whisper inside your skull?"
Yash took a step forward.
"I don't care who you've become. You're still my brother."
Aarav's smile faded. For a moment, something human flickered in his eyes.
But then, the serpent's whisper returned.
"He stands in your way… destroy him."
Aarav's voice deepened. "You can't stop destiny, Yash."
The ground cracked. Waves rose from the Yamuna, swirling into massive spirals.
Yash gripped his trident, and the Rudraksha around his neck glowed like fire.
"Then let destiny choose," he said.
Lightning struck between them.
Aarav's aura exploded into a dark mist, forming serpent heads that hissed and lunged.
Yash spun his trident — the symbols of ॐ नमः शिवाय lit up in the air, creating a shield of light.
Their clash sent shockwaves through the forest.
Trees splintered, water rose, and the night itself seemed to cry.
For every strike of darkness Aarav unleashed, Yash answered with light.
Each clash of energy burned patterns into the ground — Sanskrit verses glowing, fading, and returning again.
And then, just as their powers collided one final time,
a deep voice echoed through the sky — neither human nor divine.
"Enough."
Both froze.
The river stilled. The mist parted.
From the water, a glowing silhouette emerged a figure clothed in blue, holding a flute.
The air itself bowed.
Lord Krishna.
His smile was gentle yet endless — like the calm before a storm.
> "Children of Dharma," His voice echoed, "you fight not each other, but yourselves."
Yash fell to his knees, the trident lowering.
Aarav stepped back, trembling as the serpent mark dimmed.
Krishna walked between them.
"The world's balance is not restored by war. It is restored by understanding your bond — Light cannot exist without Shadow."
He touched both their foreheads.
In that instant, both Yash and Aarav saw flashes of their past — their childhood in Aarambh, their laughter, their dreams — all bound by one destiny.
Krishna smiled softly.
"The time will come when both of you must stand together… or perish together."
As His form faded back into the river, silence returned.
The two stood facing each other — broken, breathless, but bound.
Aarav looked down. "Yash… what have we become?"
Yash whispered, "Maybe not enemies… just lost parts of the same soul."
And for the first time in days — the river became calm again.