Mysoap5

When the gods erased his homeland from existence, Astha emerged as the sole survivor—scarred, flame-bound, and remembered only by the ash beneath his feet. Branded by divinity’s cruelty and haunted by a forgotten past, he now walks the ruins of a sacred world with a single purpose: to burn down the heavens that dared to rewrite fate.

Bound to him is Smritidhaara, a cursed chain-sickle forged from the memories of the erased—an extension of Astha’s rage and sorrow. But when he crosses paths with Luv, a thunderborn exile from the celestial realm, their fates intertwine in a war neither of them yet understand.

As buried truths awaken and mythic beasts rise from divine prisons, Astha and Luv must confront ancient gods, dead empires, and a reality that refuses to stay sealed. With every step, the fire grows. The thunder sharpens.

And the gods begin to remember what they tried so hard to forget.

This is not a story of heroes.
It is the beginning of a reckoning.

Ashes of Deva : Rise of the White Flame

The jungle slept, but Astha remained awake.

The fragment of the Herald's shattered mask lay beside the crackling fire. It pulsed gently, like a rotting heartbeat, leaking divine energy in short bursts. It wasn't just a remnant—it was a beacon. Somewhere, something had already begun listening again.

"It's not dead," Luv said from across the fire, arms crossed over his knees. "Whatever that thing was. It'll be back."

Astha said nothing. He stared into the embers.

In his mind, he still saw the black symbol carved by Naag-Vetala. He remembered the spiral. The silence. The nameless bodies.

And he remembered the word etched into that golden tablet:

The next morning, the skies had turned a pale orange—not sunrise, but something unnatural. The clouds moved in unnatural directions, swirling like oil on water.

Luv stood at the edge of a broken cliff, his silver-threaded robe flapping lightly as thunder shimmered under his skin. The sigil burned into his back from the Herald's curse still hadn't faded.

"You think this temple's where the gods locked away everything they wanted to forget?" he asked.

"No," Astha replied, sheathing Kālaratri across his back, though its fire still danced faintly. "I think it's where they stored what they were afraid to kill."

Flames spiraled out, forming a compass-like glyph in the air. Smritidhaara, now coiled up his right arm in a resting state, vibrated.

Hidden behind a ridge of volcanic cliffs and stone ruins half-swallowed by jungle moss, the Temple of Nishkala emerged — a monolithic, ancient construction that didn't reflect sunlight.

No carvings. No doors. Just a wall of black stone etched with fading mantras no mortal tongue could recite without bleeding.

"This doesn't look like any temple I've seen," Luv muttered. "Not even in Swarnalok."

Astha stepped forward, Smritidhaara igniting slowly along his forearm.

"Because it wasn't made to be worshipped."

Light did not exist. The air itself was thick with silence. Their steps echoed only in memory, not sound.

Glyphs lit beneath their feet as they moved, not in welcome—

Along the walls, names were carved.

"These are… identities," Astha murmured. "Gods erased them. Not from history—from existence."

A statue stood at the center of a vast circular chamber—twenty feet tall, arms spread wide, face covered in a veil of gold. Its body was cracked, bleeding liquid mantra. From its mouth flowed a scroll made of human skin.

"Here lies the First One Who Remembered."

Not in flesh—but as twin flames behind the veil.

Behind them, a new set of footsteps echoed in the darkness.

Not hostile. Not monstrous. But sharp. Intentional.

"You shouldn't be here. Not unless you want the gods to bury your names next."

Both Astha and Luv turned, weapons half-drawn.

A tall woman stood before them, cloaked in faded violet and gold. Her skin glowed faintly with mantra-light, and from her back rose a blade forged from thunderglass and lotus petals.

Her eyes locked on Luv first. And then Astha.

"I've been sent to destroy you," she said.

"But I think I'd rather help you."

Chapter 8 – Whispered Names of the Forgotten Temple