High above the silent gardens of Heaven, a balcony opened into the endless expanse of stars.
There stood Shaurya—the fallen light of Anant's proudest lineage—his silver armor glinting faintly under the pale moon. His hands rested on the marble railing, fingers tight enough to crack stone. He stared upward—at the same moon that bathed the pond below—and whispered into the cold air,
"How much longer, Advik? How much longer must I wait for you?"
The night offered no answer. Only the sound of the wind—old and knowing—moved through the pillars.
"How many centuries," Shaurya murmured, "how many wounds written into my fate before your eyes return to mine? How much pain must the universe wring from my bones before mercy allows me to breathe beside you again?"
His voice was steady, but his heart was bleeding beneath it.
He looked up again, his silver gaze catching the stars. "But I will not yield. I will endure every agony carved for us. I will bear every silence, every exile, every curse—and still, I will not speak against the fate that separates us."
He exhaled slowly, and the breath came out as mist.
"I have looked upon the moon, upon the stars, upon every creation Anant ever made. And yet, Advik—since the day I saw you, I have seen nothing else."
The words trembled between his lips, but they did not break.
"In this vast cosmos, among thousands of divine wonders, none are as beautiful to me as you. Even Anant himself, the creator of worlds, cannot rival the beauty you are to my eyes."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "My eyes crave only you, Advik. Only you."
The wind surged—lifting his long hair, scattering the light like silver dust.
He closed his eyes, and a single tear escaped, falling soundlessly to the marble below.
"I do not care what Heaven forbids," he said, voice quiet but carved in fire.
"I will break every rule, every law, every chain forged to keep us apart. I will burn the skies, if that's what it takes."
He opened his eyes again—the stars reflected within them like dying suns.
For a moment, the night seemed to lean closer, as if even the cosmos wished to listen.
"Someday," he whispered, "you will stand before me again. Not as light, not as fire—but as the soul I lost and found a thousand times over."
And then, silence.
Only the sound of the distant wind—like a soft, unseen harp playing the melody of waiting hearts.
Shaurya tilted his head up to the moon once more.
It gleamed—distant, cold, untouchable—yet somehow still carrying the warmth of a name he would never stop calling.
A name that echoed through the vastness like a prayer and a curse intertwined:
Advik
The word hung in the air long after his voice had died—carried by the wind, crossing realms, reaching places even gods could not see.
And somewhere, far beyond heaven's light—perhaps on the earth below—a young man stirred in his sleep, his heart aching for something he could not remember.
The night sighed.
The moon remained witness.
And love, eternal and unrepentant, continued to burn in silence.
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Chapter End :
In Heaven, a warrior's vow echoed through eternity. On Earth, a prince's heart beat to a rhythm he couldn't understand. And between them, a love that defied creation itself continued to whisper—setting the stage for a reunion that would shake the very foundations of both their worlds.