Walking the winding corridors and climbing three flights of worn granite stairs, Onish finally reached the sanctum of the shrine. His breath caught as he stood before the colossal carved golden door, guarded by two formidable gargoyles.
The fierce black stone creatures sat hunched, their wings folded and their sharp teeth bared in leering grins. Their crimson gemstone eyes gleamed ominously in the dim morning light, as though alive.
Chalukya, who had been silent and brooding the entire way, finally spoke. His voice resonated with quiet authority.
"Dvaaram udghaaTaya." (Open the door.)
The faint Sanskrit syllables rippled through the air, carried by the cool morning breeze. Onish watched, astonished yet strangely calm, as the spell whispered life into the inanimate winged beasts. The stone of their bodies shifted and flowed like molten lava, reshaping into flesh. Within moments, two humanoid figures with grotesque features stood glaring at them.
"Why disturb us, Dwiza? The spring is still far away," one growled, its voice guttural, echoing in the hollow sanctum. A pair of curved horns protruded from its bald head, lending it a menacing air.
"Apologies, Kumbha. This old man needs Mother's help today," Chalukya replied with a weary sigh, his voice tinged with genuine regret.
"You know the cost," rumbled the second gargoyle, its scaly body shimmering faintly with a spectral glow.
"Yes," Chalukya said, his tone resigned. "This cursed one knows all too well."
Onish observed the exchange with detached curiosity. He had seen enough of the bizarre and the arcane to meet the awakening of stone guardians with only mild surprise. But Chalukya's somber demeanor unsettled him.
The gargoyles exchanged glances before stepping aside. "I pity you, Dwiza," Kumbha said as they pushed open the heavy door.
The moment the door creaked open, a surge of pranic energy rushed out like a tidal wave, engulfing them. Onish's senses heightened, overwhelmed by the purity of the divine energy. His heart raced, exhilarated and yearning. He had longed for such vitality, certain it could rekindle his dormant nadis and chakras.
"Lupa, you can leave us here," Chalukya told the trembling attendant. The boy's face was ashen, and he clutched his robes like a lifeline. "The light of Ahura Mazda will guide us from here."
The boy didn't wait to be told twice. "Y-yes… venerable one," he stammered before scampering off, his hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor.
The sanctum was breathtaking. An octagonal chamber with intricate mosaic floors, it glowed in the ethereal light of eight blue flames that danced in carved bowls atop stone pillars at each corner. At the center of the room stood an idol on an altar—a celestial beauty rendered in lifelike perfection.
The figure radiated serenity, her delicate features carved with divine precision. In her right hand, she held a blue tulip; her left was raised in a blessing mudra. Her almond-shaped green eyes seemed alive, following Onish as he stepped into the chamber. A faint, familiar fragrance hung in the air, sweet and soothing, though he couldn't place its origin.
"Sit where you please, young lord," Chalukya said, his voice heavy with purpose. "This old man must prepare to invoke Mother."
Onish complied, settling a few feet from the altar. His gaze remained fixed on the enigmatic awakener, who moved with reverence, careful to avoid the sacred mandalas etched into the floor.
From his spatial bag, Chalukya withdrew several ritual items: glowing spirit fruits, a tulip flower, twigs with strange five-leaf clusters, and a shimmering ewer. With practiced precision, he arranged them on the altar, chanting ancient spells.
The air grew tense, charged with unseen power. Onish felt a soothing calm descend over his turbulent thoughts. The presence of something greater—something divine—began to fill the room.
Chalukya's chanting reached a crescendo as he poured water from the Nemariya Sea onto the altar. The old man's body trembled, and his eyes rolled back, veins bulging across his forehead. Blood trickled from his nose.
Alarmed, Onish leapt to his feet. "Chalukya!"
The awakener collapsed, his frail body hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Onish rushed to him but recoiled when he touched the old man's burning skin. Chalukya's face was crimson, his body radiating heat like a forge.
Onish turned to the closed door, helpless. The gargoyles wouldn't heed his call. He scanned the room, searching for something—anything—that could help. Desperation drove him to the ewer on the altar. As he reached for it, the blue flames surged wildly, casting searing light across the room.
Before he could retreat, a streak of light shot from the idol and pierced his chest.
The force staggered him. Onish's vision blurred, and his body trembled uncontrollably. He collapsed into a seated position, instinctively shutting his eyes.
Inside, his awareness turned inward. He could see the streak of light tearing through his nadis, reducing them to wisps. He panicked, trying to block its path with his spiritual sense, but it was futile. The streak moved with the speed of thought, burning away the very network that sustained him.
When it reached his heart chakra, the pain was excruciating.
Then, a voice—soft and mournful—whispered through his consciousness.
"So, you have come at last… but too late."
The words echoed, filled with sorrow. Onish froze. He didn't recognize the voice, but it stirred something deep within him—a memory long buried.
"I waited for you in Gopas for a thousand samsara cycles," the voice continued, heavy with despair. "But you never came… and now…"
The whisper faded, leaving only silence. Onish felt an overwhelming grief, as though a piece of his soul had been lost forever.
Yet amidst the despair, a vision emerged. A figure of pure golden light, its nadis glowing brilliantly, sat in the void. Its presence was both foreign and deeply familiar.
Driven by instinct, Onish mirrored the figure. Slowly, a cool sensation spread through his body. The wispy remnants of his nadis began to pulse with faint light, growing stronger with each breath.
Unbeknownst to him, his body underwent a transformation. The blue flames flickered, and the idol's eyes glistened with tears. The celestial beauty smiled faintly, her sorrow giving way to a quiet hope.
The path of the ancient ways was opening. Onish was awakening—not just his nadis, but something far greater.