Aryan drifted in **darkness**.
There was no pain.
No light.
No sound.
Just an **endless void**—cold and silent.
But somewhere, faintly, he heard **a voice**.
Soft. Familiar. **Calling his name.**
"**Aryan…**"
The voice was **desperate**, trembling with emotion.
A faint touch grazed his **cheek**—warm and trembling.
"**Please wake up…**"
And then—**everything flooded back.**
---
### **The Return to Light**
His eyes snapped open.
He was **blinded by golden light**, the world a blur of **vivid colors and radiant sky**.
His lungs **burned faintly**, his chest tight with every shallow breath.
His **limbs ached**, heavy as stone.
He blinked **slowly**, his vision swimming as it tried to **focus**.
And then—he saw her.
**Shanaya.**
She was **kneeling beside him**, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears.
Her hair was **disheveled**, a few loose strands clinging to her damp cheeks.
Her hands were **shaking**, gripping his wrist tightly.
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"**You're awake…**"
Her lips **parted slightly**, trembling faintly as if she were **afraid to believe it**.
Her eyes were **red-rimmed**, brimming with relief and disbelief.
Aryan's throat was **dry and raw**, but his lips **curved faintly**.
"Hey…" he rasped softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"**Miss me?**"
For a brief moment, Shanaya's eyes **widened slightly**.
Her lips parted—as if to speak—
And then she **punched him in the shoulder.**
"**Idiot!**" she half-sobbed, half-laughed, her voice trembling.
"Don't you **ever** do that again!"
Her fists **hit his chest weakly**, but she was already **crying**, tears slipping freely down her cheeks.
Without thinking, Aryan **lifted his hand**, his fingers **brushing softly against her face**, wiping away a tear.
His touch was **gentle**, trembling faintly.
"**I'm here, Shanaya,**" he whispered.
"**I made it back.**"
She **stared at him**, her eyes wide and disbelieving.
And then—without hesitation—she **threw her arms around him**, holding him so tightly it almost hurt.
Her body **shook against his**, her tears **dampening his skin**.
"**You almost died, you idiot…**" she whispered hoarsely.
Her voice cracked faintly.
"**You almost didn't come back…**"
Aryan's **arms slowly wrapped around her**, pulling her closer, feeling the faint warmth of her body against his.
His voice was weak, but steady.
"**But I did.**"
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
They just **held onto each other**, clinging to the fragile, fleeting moment of stillness.
---
### **The Wounds of Battle**
After a long while, Shanaya slowly **pulled back**, her hands still gripping his shoulders as if she were **afraid he might disappear**.
Her **eyes swept over him**, taking in the jagged cuts along his arms, the faint burn marks on his skin, and the pale, drawn look of his face.
She **frowned faintly**, her fingers brushing along his **jawline**, noting the faint bruise along his cheek.
"You're… hurt," she whispered softly.
Aryan chuckled hoarsely, his lips **quirking faintly**.
"**You should see the other guy.**"
She stared at him **flatly**, unamused.
And then, without warning, she **smacked him lightly** on the arm.
"**Stop joking. You almost died.**"
Her voice was **low and shaking**, a faint tremor in her words.
Her **fingers traced the edge of a deep gash** on his arm, her touch feather-light.
Her eyes were filled with **worry**, her voice barely a whisper.
"**I thought you were gone…**"
Aryan slowly **placed his hand over hers**, his fingers trembling faintly.
"**I'm here, Shanaya.**"
For a moment, she **stared at him**—her breath shallow, her lips trembling faintly.
And then—slowly—she **nodded**, squeezing his hand tightly.
---
### **The Arrival of the Devas**
The **golden sky shimmered faintly**, and suddenly **divine light** flooded the meadow.
A faint, ethereal hum filled the air as **two figures descended** from the sky—their forms radiant and majestic.
**Indra and Yama.**
The **king of the Devas** and the **god of death** stood before Aryan, their divine armor glimmering with celestial light.
Indra's eyes **narrowed slightly**, his sharp gaze sweeping over Aryan.
"**You're alive.**"
His voice was **calm and measured**, but Aryan detected a faint edge of **relief** beneath it.
Yama, on the other hand, simply **stared** at him.
His eyes—cold and unreadable—locked onto Aryan's.
For a brief moment, **neither spoke**.
And then—Yama slowly inclined his head.
A rare sign of **respect**.
"**You did well.**"
Aryan's lips **quirked faintly**, his voice hoarse but teasing.
"**You almost sound impressed.**"
Yama's eyes **narrowed faintly**, but his lips curved slightly at the edge.
"**Don't let it go to your head.**"
Indra's voice was low and steady.
"**You sealed Vritra… but the chains will not hold him forever.**"
Aryan's **eyes narrowed sharply**, his voice low.
"I know."
Indra's gaze **hardened**, his eyes faintly troubled.
"**The void still echoes with his fury.**"
His eyes narrowed faintly.
"**He will return.**"
Aryan slowly sat up, **wincing faintly** as his body protested.
He slowly **stood**, his legs trembling slightly—but he stood.
And when he spoke, his voice was **clear and steady**.
"**Then I'll be ready.**"
For a brief moment, **the Devas were silent**, watching him.
And then—Indra's eyes **softened faintly**.
He slowly **stepped forward**, placing his hand on Aryan's shoulder.
"**You have earned the respect of the Devas, Aryan,**" he said softly.
"**And our trust.**"
Yama's voice was **low and solemn**, but firm.
"**You are no longer a mortal bound by fate.**"
His eyes narrowed faintly.
"**You are bound by something greater.**"
Aryan's **gaze hardened**, his eyes steady.
He **clenched his fists**, feeling the faint warmth of divine fire **lingering in his veins**.
And then—**he smiled faintly**.
A slow, confident smile.
"**Good.**"
His eyes burned faintly with **divine light**.
"**Because I'm not done yet.**"
---
### **The Mortal Flame**
As the **Devas slowly departed**, Aryan **stood beneath the golden sky**, the faint warmth of the sun **on his face**.
Shanaya slowly stepped beside him, her arms **wrapped around his**, leaning against him.
Her voice was **soft and teasing**, a faint smile on her lips.
"**You're impossible, you know that?**"
Aryan's eyes **glimmered faintly**, mischief in his voice.
"**That's why you like me.**"
She **rolled her eyes**—but her smile was **warm and relieved**.
And as they stood there—battered, broken, but **alive**—Aryan slowly **closed his eyes**, breathing in the scent of the meadow.
The void was behind him.
The chains were sealed.
And he was **home.**