CHAPTER 3: ETERNAL PROMISE

~"And yet, in his heart, all he wanted was to hold her hand—one more time."

"BRING FIRE EXTINGUISHERS! NOT WATER!" Someone yelled, their voice cutting through the cacophony.

Yet amidst the chaos, another force stirred—silent, unwavering, surrounded by destruction.

Aloka's small, ethereal figure stood firm, her determination palpable even as the inferno closed in.

{Master, I'll protect you this time.}

Small. Still. Steadfast.

Her delicate figure remained untouched—a single drop of divinity held within a hurricane. Ethereal light shimmered faintly around her, shielding Vedika, Shivangi, and herself from harm—a testament to the power far beyond her apparent age.

Her lips moved in a soft incantation—speaking ancient words passed down not by mouth, but by soul. Ancient syllables, older than language itself, slipped into the fabric of the universe. The ritual was nearing completion.

The air grew thick with energy, shimmering like heat above a holy flame. Reality began to ripple.

Above, the stars responded.

One by one—slowly, impossibly—celestial bodies began to shift. Moons drifted. Planets swayed. Entire constellations realigned in perfect, divine choreography.

Samasthit Rashi Yog—a phenomenon so rare that it appeared only once in a billion trillion years—began to unfold. It was a cosmic alignment whispered only in the oldest scriptures, when all stars, their planets, and moons across galaxies fell into perfect linear harmony.

And when such an alignment occurred… even time would hold its breath.

The pull from so many celestial giants, lined up like beads on a sacred thread, distorted the very fabric of existence. Space rippled. Time twisted. The universe itself trembled—as if surrendering, for a fleeting moment, to something far beyond its own laws.

Aloka's hands—small and trembling—rose slowly above her head, quivering not from fear, but from the sheer force coursing through her. Her voice, delicate yet unwavering, echoed with intense ancient power as she chanted words older than memory:

"Om sahasrajīvanaṁ punaḥ[1]

smṛtirekhāsu jāgṛtam[2]

pūrvakarmaprabhañjanaṁ[3]

cetanāṁ dattamuktidam[4]

sarvarūpeṣu sañchāraṁ[5]

amṛtaṁ brahmarūpiṇam[6]

tejasā vyāpya viśvaṁ ca[7]

śāntiṁ śaktiṁ pradīyatām[8]"

As Aloka chanted the ancient, burning mantra, Vedika's whispered farewell echoed through the inferno.

Goodbye, Azura. Goodbye to everyone.

Goodbye, Aishwarya...

Her faint voice vanished into the roar of flames and shattering wood as destruction devoured the room. Her eyes, once full of fire, dimmed with the weight of finality. With a fleeting thought of what lay beyond death, Vedika's eyes gently shut. On the planet Azure, she took what felt like her final breath—leaving behind unspoken dreams and silent goodbyes.

As silence fell within Vedika, something ancient awakened within Aloka.

The syllables burned with energy. A pulse erupted from her being—dense, radiant, unstoppable—like the heart of a newborn star exploding into existence.

From the center of her forehead, a beam of light burst forth, searing gold and blinding white, cascading in a spiral of divine fire. For a breathless moment, time fractured. Sound ceased. Matter froze. And space... trembled.

The room was devoured in brilliance, its walls ignited in radiant flames—yet the energy didn't stop there. It surged outward, rippling across dimensions, unraveling the very fabric of space and time.

What followed was not an explosion.

It was an awakening.

Of memory. Of purpose. Of something far greater than a single life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Somewhere beyond stars, beyond time, beyond form—in the chaos of the heartbeat of creation—a spark stirred.

It drifted at first like a sigh through the void.

Not a soul. Not a light.

A memory. A purpose. A divine essence.

Kaalvesh.

Once the God of Gods, eternal weaver of cosmic rhythm, time, and transformation.

Time bowed before him.

Realms unfolded at his command.

Reality bent to his will.

And yet, all his boundless power shattered before a single force—

Love.

Ojasvi.

His counterpart. His beloved. His mirror. His light. His eternal.

The only one who ever made eternity feel too short.

She who held divinity in her smile, who softened the god and awakened the man within him.

She had fallen in the Great War—the final battle to seal the Evil Shadowy Cult, a force of unknown origin that sought to devour divine balance itself. She made the ultimate sacrifice.

To preserve balance, to protect countless worlds, she tore herself from reality, scattering her soul across dimensions.

A fracture so deep not even time could repair it.

Kaalvesh, ruler of timelines, who could stretch moments or collapse centuries, stood helpless.

The past was carved in celestial scroll. Even he could not rewrite it.

He had watched her fade.

Unable to save her.

Unable to follow.

Not even his dominion over time could retrieve her. The past was immutable. Her death was the price of salvation.

He had wept.

Not as a god—

But as a man.

A broken one.

And so, he let go.

He abandoned his throne. Cast off his immortality. Erased his name from the scrolls of gods, the lips of priests, the stones of temples.

All that remained was will—pure, unbound, unyielding will.

A divine essence untethered, now coursing through collapsing stars and forgotten nebulae, riding the ripples of ancient songs sung by space itself.

He followed fragments—fleeting echoes of her laughter, remnants of her presence scattered like stardust across the tapestry of time.

Even in your one hundred and seven divine manifestations,

You found your way to me…

As river. As flame. As song. As silence.

As destiny. As grace. As love.

His vow echoed through dimensions like a forgotten prayer.

This time… even if you no longer remember me…

I will find you.

What use is ruling the cosmos

—if she is not beside me?

Without her,

even eternity is silence.

An eternal curse.

This was no ordinary journey.

It was a saga of sacrifice.

A vow echoing louder than creation itself.

A soul's promise—eternal, unbroken.

A golden-red blaze, born from the dying breath of a forgotten star in a forsaken quadrant, surged forth—not as matter, but as will incarnate.

Kaalvesh—stripped of name and form, yet burning with the memory of love—now moved through the cosmos, a celestial streak of divine intent.

It tore across galaxies with grace no comet had ever known.

It slipped between asteroid fields like whispered breath.

It outraced collapsing wormholes and defied black holes that tried in vain to drag it into silence.

It was faster than light, untouched by time, immune to entropy.

Not a thing of nature—but a declaration against it.

Nebulae shimmered as it passed.

Galaxies bowed in quiet awe.

Civilizations looked to the sky and felt… something.

And though they soon forgot, the stars remembered.

They whispered their new titled names as:

Nirjyotika-Ayonij[9].

Sattvamati-Vairajya[10].

But he was not returning to rule.

He was returning to remember.

To reclaim the soul he lost.

To fulfill the vow that not even death could sever.

And then—after eons wrapped in silence—

the comet began to slow.

Its fire dimmed, its will sharpened.

At last, the comet neared its destination—

a world cradled in the celestial sea.

Nirvania.

A jewel veiled in blue and green.

Ancient. Wise. Pulsing with forgotten truths.

Its sapphire oceans danced with living rhythm, while emerald continents shimmered with mystic breath. Mountains stood crowned in snow, solemn sentinels watching the skies. Forests murmured secrets in tongues older than time. Rivers flowed like silver veins, humming ancient names.

Drawn by invisible threads of fate, the comet breached Nirvania's atmosphere, the sky opened—descended toward the continent of Manovrta—a land where wisdom and mysticism entwined, where the spiritual and the elemental moved as one.

And at the heart of it all lay Shrinagar City—

a marvel carved in reverence and light.

Spires of ivory kissed the heavens. Domes caught the dreams of stars. Streets, paved in mosaics, whispered stories with every step. The air itself shimmered with the echoes of mantras, and every stone pulsed with memory.

Celestial auroras unfurled in waves of fire and song.

Not just colors—but hymns, long-forgotten and newly remembered.

Winds stilled. Beasts fell silent. The forests listened.

And the very bones of the earth seemed to stir.

This was not arrival.

This was ceremony.

The world, old as stars, remembered.

For he had returned.

Not as ruler. Not as god.

But as promise. As man.

Inside a quiet chamber in Shrinagar, veiled in moonlight and perfumed with silence, a woman lay in bed in distress.

Her face twisted in panic. Her hands caressing upon her stomach, gently cradling life. A child not yet born—

Unaware of the universe holding its breath beyond the palace walls, she exhaled heavily.

For within her womb stirred a soul written in stardust.

A child not yet born… but already remembered.

Far above, the comet—once a blazing proclamation of divine intent—began to dissolve. Its golden-crimson fire softened into threads of shimmering light, as if the cosmos itself were unraveling a story long buried in time.

It moved through sky and stone, through palace walls and lattice windows—not like a beam, but like a memory.

A promise returning.

The light hovered for a single heartbeat.

A moment suspended between realities.

And then, like a breath, it merged—into the unborn child.

A pulse followed.

Subtle. Eternal.

A ripple across the fabric of space-time.

Ojasvi… wait for me…

The whisper was not sound. It was will—carried across galaxies, folded into the breath of stars.

A vow reborn.

For Ojasvi, the soul who once shattered death's veil to save the cosmos, was destined to meet.

And now, rebirth had begun.

The Eternal Wheel turned once more.

Across the land, the air stirred. Beasts glanced skyward. Rivers hushed.

Even the ancient winds, older than memory, trembled with recognition.

Mortal, unaware of his own eternal promise, he would walk the world.

Guided not by memory, but by yearning.

Drawn not by knowledge, but by instinct—the aching sense that something once lost waits to be found.

Not just to find her body—but to awaken her soul. For love this deep does not vanish; it weaves itself into the fabric of destiny.

I will find you, Ojasvi. Across all realms, across all veils. No matter the shape you take, no matter how far time has scattered us.

I will be reborn—until the stars remember, until even the winds remember your name… and whisper it back to me.

Until our souls become one once more.

He is no longer a god.

But he is something far stronger.

A soul incarnated through love—unforgotten, undying, unyielding.

The Eternal Promise has awakened.

And fate has only just begun to turn.

This was the first page in a saga etched across stars.

The beginning... of everything.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Nirvania Grah[11]

Celestial Period 8562

The land of Manovrta Mahadvip[12] awakened to a dawn woven not just in sunlight, but in prophecy.

At its heart, the Rajvansh Samrajya[13] flourished—a realm where empires breathed history and myths walked alongside men.

And at its center stood Shrinagar, the jewel of Nirvania.

As the first rays of golden light spilled over its ivory domes, the city stirred.

Temple bells chimed in rhythmic blessing, their echoes mingling with saffron-scented air and the sweetness of freshly made mithaiyaan[14].

Marketplaces bloomed with color—silks from Suvarna Nagar, gems that glowed like bottled starlight, spices that whispered of distant isles.

In the bustling Maharaja Bazaar[15], traders called out their wares with pride, while women in vibrant sarees[16] exchanged laughter and garlands.

Children ran barefoot, singing songs of heroes and gods.

Today, the streets pulsed with celebration—

For Pradhāna-Samanta[17] Rudrapratap Chauhan, the terrifying lion of the Rajvansh armies, was returning victorious.

Seven years of battle.

Seven years of waiting.

Drums thundered like monsoon clouds.

Trumpets blared.

Flags of crimson and gold danced atop every tower.

The gates of Shrinagar were thrown wide, ready to welcome home a legend.

[1] Om sahasrajīvanaṁ punaḥ (ॐ सहस्रजीवनं पुनः।)

→ Om, may the thousand lives revive once more,

[2] smṛtirekhāsu jāgṛtam (स्मृतिरेखासु जागृतम्॥)

→ Let the lines of memory awaken.

[3] pūrvakarmaprabhañjanaṁ (पूर्वकर्मप्रभञ्जनं।)

→ Shatter the buildings of past karma,

[4] cetanāṁ dattamuktidam (चेतनां दत्तमुक्तिदम्॥)

→ Grant the soul its destined freedom.

[5] sarvarūpeṣu sañchāraṁ (सर्वरूपेषु संचारं।)

→ Let divine nectar move in all forms,

[6] amṛtaṁ brahmarūpiṇam (अमृतं ब्रह्मरूपिणम्॥)

→ As Brahman's own eternal essence.

[7] tejasā vyāpya viśvaṁ ca (तेजसा व्याप्य विश्वं च।)

→ May light pervade the universe,

[8] śāntiṁ śaktiṁ pradīyatām (शान्तिं शक्तिं प्रदीयताम्॥)

→ And gift us peace and power within."

[9] Nirjyotika—representing sacrifice or void; Ayonij—representing eternal existence

[10] Sattvamati—one born of pure existence; Vairajya—one becomes detachment personified

[11] Grah (Planet): The word "planet" in Hindi and Sanskrit is: ग्रह (Grah)

[12] Mahadvip (Continent): The word "continent" in Hindi is: महाद्वीप (Mahādvīp)

[13] Samrajya (Empire): The word "Samrajya" (सम्राज्य) is a Sanskrit/Hindi term that means: Empire

[14] Mithaiyaan (Sweets): Mithaiyaan (मिठाइयाँ) is a Hindi/Urdu word meaning "sweets" or "desserts" in English. It is the plural form of mithai (sweet) and refers to a wide variety of traditional South Asian confections. These are typically made from ingredients like milk, sugar, flour, ghee, and nuts, and are often flavored with cardamom, saffron, or rosewater.

[15] Bazaar (Market): The word "Bazaar" (बाज़ार) in Hindi refers to: Market – a place where goods are bought and sold.

[16] Saree: Saree is an adjective phrase used to describe someone—usually a woman—wearing a saree, a traditional Indian garment. A "saree woman" simply means a woman dressed in a saree.

[17] Pradhāna-Samanta (प्रधान-सामन्त): Chief among ordinary Samantas (General Feudatories or Vassals)