Present Time
"Neel… what now?" Lava asked, her voice trembling.
Neel didn't answer.
He stood frozen, as if time itself had stalled around him. His thoughts drifted backward—dragged into memories he had tried to erase. A past he never wanted to face again.
Suddenly—
He collided with someone.
A man's shoulder.
The impact snapped Neel out of his thoughts.
"Neel!" Lava rushed to his side, worry flooding her eyes. "Are you okay?"
Neel nodded slowly, though his heartbeat refused to calm.
Before Lava could say anything more, the man turned toward Neel. His face was grave, urgency burning behind his steady gaze.
"Neel," the man said, his voice low but firm. "Don't just stand here. We can't stay in this place anymore."
Neel stiffened.
"This place isn't safe," the man continued. "We're leaving—now. I'm taking the Raatdeep route. From there, I'll enter the Evergrove Kingdom."
He paused, then added, "You should leave too. Take your family and get out as fast as possible. I'm going."
Without waiting for a reply, the man turned and walked away.
Neel watched his retreating figure, fear slowly tightening its grip around his chest.
Leave… right now?
Then—
"Dad… what happened?"
Neel turned.
Kaal stood there, staring at him.
Neel noticed it instantly—the unnatural calm on Kaal's face. Still. Silent.
But behind his eyes, fear lingered—hidden, yet undeniable.
That look struck Neel harder than anything else.
Neel slapped his own cheek sharply.
Focus.
"We're leaving," Neel said. His voice was steady—too steady—betraying nothing of the storm raging inside him.
"All of us."
Lava's eyes widened. "Neel—"
"Now," he added.
Neel clenched his fists and looked toward the distance—toward the lands that led to the Evergrove Kingdom.
"We're going to Evergrove," he said.
The fear in his eyes was gone.
Then—
Agony tore through his back.
Neel gasped as a wave of searing heat surged across his spine, followed by a strange, glowing sensation—unnatural, invasive… terrifying.
His legs gave out.
"Neel!" Lava cried.
She and Kaal rushed forward, catching him before he collapsed to the ground.
Neel groaned, his breath uneven. His back felt as if it were burning from the inside—as though something had been carved into his flesh, etched into his very bones.
Lava's hands trembled as she pulled back his clothes.
"There's…" her voice faltered. "There's a mark."
A strange symbol was etched into Neel's skin.
Unknown.
Mysterious.
Faintly glowing.
An unknown mark.
Neel clenched his teeth and forced himself upright, ignoring the pain screaming through his body.
"We don't have time," he said hoarsely. "We have to leave. Right now."
"But you're hurt—" Lava began.
"There's no choice," Neel cut in. "The Agni Chakra won't stay sealed forever."
His eyes darkened.
"The moment it breaks, Blacknote Land will be painted red."
Lava fell silent.
They had no choice.
They had to leave this place—as soon as possible.
The Agni Chakra would not remain sealed forever.
And when it finally shattered, the Black Eye Clan would descend upon Inlava like wildfire, leaving nothing behind but ashes.
The Evergrove Kingdom was only two hours away.
Two hours.
From the Gray family, there was no time to hesitate—no time to mourn what they were leaving behind.
Neel moved quickly.
He went to the backyard, his hands steady despite the chaos roaring inside him. He harnessed the horse, secured it to the carriage, and checked the bindings twice—once out of caution, once out of fear.
Lava and Kaal climbed inside, their expressions tight with tension, yet hardened with resolve.
The carriage creaked as Neel took his place.
Without looking back—
They moved.
The wheels rolled forward, cutting through the dust of the path, carrying them away from the place they once called home.
Toward the Evergrove Kingdom.
Toward an uncertain future.
Toward a fate that had already begun to awaken.
On the Other Side
Shaan froze the moment he heard the words, Agni Chakra.
For a second, his mind went completely blank.
Then he picked up the chair from the clod stone floor and lowered himself onto it, the weight of those words sinking deep as his mind struggled to accept them.
"You're saying…" Shaan whispered, his voice trembling.
"That chakra…"
"A high-mana chakra?"
He swallowed hard.
"is the Agni Chakra?"
"…And its level is two?"
Even saying it aloud sent chills crawling down Shaan's spine.
"If that's true…" Shaan said slowly, his eyes darkening,
"then Blacknote is no longer a safe place for the people there."
His fingers tightened at his side.
"We have to rescue them."
Before the weight of that decision could fully settle—
Another man entered the room and bowed.
"Sir," he said respectfully, "Lord Commander Bhairava has arrived to meet you."
Time seemed to slip away—
like sand leaking endlessly through clenched fingers. No matter how tightly one tried to hold it, it always escaped.
Soon, Shaan stood face to face with the man he had once served under.
Bhairava Linehart.
He had travelled from a distant kingdom, yet his presence was silent—sharp.
In his hand, he carried a sealed order, its weight heavier than parchment had any right to be.
A longsword was strapped across his back, the hilt rising over his shoulder. A dagger rested horizontally at his waist—close enough to be drawn in a blink.
Bhairava looked like a man in his early thirties.
But something about him felt… older.
Not by much—just enough to make one uneasy.
As if time itself had brushed past him, then chosen not to linger.
He appeared calm.
Yet his eyes told a different story.
Wary.
Watchful.
Dangerous.
"So…" Bhairava spoke at last, his voice smooth, measured.
"How has my commander been feeling these days?"
"I hope you're well."
Shaan straightened instantly, pressure pressing down on his chest.
"Thanks to you, Lord Commander, I feel fine," he replied.
"All is good."
A pause.
Then Shaan gathered his courage.
"But may I ask…"
"What brings you here?"
Bhairava's gaze sharpened.
"Shaan," Bhairava said quietly,
"have you ever heard of the Eight Great Poems?"
The air shifted.
Shaan's eyes widened. Instinctively, he lowered his voice—
as if afraid even the walls might hear.
"The Eight Great Poems…" he whispered.
"Poems said to be called by fate itself."
"Eight lines. Eight truths. Eight fates."
"They were carved into stone in an age long gone. Their verses outlived empires… kings… even gods."
"No mortal eyes can read them freely. The lines remain hidden—silent and unseen."
"Only when a great truth nears its birth does the stone stir…"
"…and the words bleed into sight."
"Each line speaks of the future—unchanging, unavoidable—waiting for the day it must carve itself into the world once more."
Bhairava hummed softly.
"Hm… that's right," he said.
"In simple terms, those poems reveal the future."
"And one of them…"
His eyes narrowed.
"…has revealed itself again."
Shaan felt his throat go dry.
When the last time the poem revealed itself, it foretold the Last Divine War.
"Tell me," Shaan asked, his voice so low it barely rose above a whisper,
"what did that poem predict?"
Curiosity burned in his chest—
but fear wrapped tightly around it, refusing to let go.
Bhairava looked at him for a long moment.
Then—
He spoke.
He told Shaan that poem.
The words fell one after another—
slow, deliberate—
each syllable heavier than the last.
And when Bhairava finished—
Silence.
Not a single word left Shaan's mouth.
His eyes were wide, his gaze trembling as if struggling to focus on the world before him.
Colour drained from his face, leaving behind a pale, hollow stillness.
It felt as though his heart had forgotten how to beat.
The room remained unchanged.
The walls stood firm.
The air did not move.
And yet—
Something had changed.
Shaan felt it.
As if the poem had not merely been spoken…
but had left behind an echo that refused to fade.
A presence lingered—cold and unseen—brushing against his thoughts like a shadow passing just behind his eyes.
It wasn't fear alone that rooted him in place.
It was the certainty that the future had already heard those words.
And now—
It was waiting.
To be continued…