"He is gone, Arya." The words still echoed in his ears.
Everything was numb. He could not hear anything, he felt like nothing was real. His Guruji could not be just dead. How was that possible? It was all because of those rakshasas. Yes.
He yelled out to the sky and in a fit of uncontrollable rage, went on a killing spree, his hazel eyes burning with rage.
One after the other, without grace, the Rakshasas were falling to the ground with a dull thud or an odd splash in their own blood.
He had killed so many of them that you could not tell who the rakshasa was here. He stood there in the middle of the battlefield, standing, alone, amid a pool of blood and bodies of countless rakshasas, students and instructors from the Gurukul alike.
The sky had returned, the chill that had surrounded the Gurukul before was completely gone. The sun shone brightly and it was the afternoon already. The battle had waged on for hours. There were many casualties and many more were injured.
As Arya stood amidst the aftermath of the fierce battle, the air heavy with the acrid scent of blood and the remnants of the rakshasas' otherworldly presence, a chilling silence enveloped the once serene Gurukul.
The battlefield, strewn with the lifeless bodies of both defenders and assailants, bore witness to the cost of the unexpected attack. Arya's hazel eyes, still ablaze with the remnants of rage, scanned the grim tableau. Yet, as the echoes of clashing swords and guttural roars faded, an eerie quiet settled over the Gurukul, broken only by the occasional groan of the wounded and the distant murmurs of concerned survivors.
It was in this surreal moment, amidst the ruins of what was once a sanctuary of peace, that Arya's steps faltered. The weight of loss and the magnitude of the events unfolded began to press upon him, and as the sun cast long shadows over the battlefield, Arya felt a profound exhaustion, both physical and emotional, taking hold. Arya had passed out. Standing.
A week had passed since the fateful battle that shook the foundations of the Gurukul. The once-harmonious sanctuary now stood as a sombre witness to the aftermath of the attack. The Gurukul's inhabitants, both students and Gurus alike, had come together to perform the last rites of the fallen warriors who had valiantly defended their haven. The air was thick with sorrow and reverence as funeral pyres blazed, sending plumes of smoke into the sky.
The Gurudev, his countenance a mix of grief and resilience, stood at the forefront of the solemn ceremony. He insisted on honouring not only the fallen human warriors but also the rakshasas who had met their end in the battle. "Balance in nature must be acknowledged," he had proclaimed, urging his disciples to perform the rituals for all who had lost their lives in the conflict.
Arya, still bearing the weight of his Guruji's death and the chaos that unfolded, participated in the ritual with a heavy heart. Dressed in simple white garments, tears glistened in his hazel eyes as he approached the pyre of the fallen warriors. The flames roared to life, consuming the bodies and casting an ethereal glow on Arya's anguished face.
Gurudev observed Arya from a distance, recognizing the turmoil within his young disciple. As Arya stepped forward to give fire to the pyre, the Gurudev approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Arya, in the cycle of life and death, we acknowledge the interconnectedness of all beings. It is a sombre duty, but a necessary one. Let your tears be not only for the fallen but for the understanding that every life, no matter its form, has a place in the grand tapestry of existence."
Arya nodded, his voice choked with emotion. The flames reflected in his tearful eyes as he paid homage to the fallen warriors.
"Come seek me in my chambers Arya." These were the Gurudev's parting words as he turned and left in the opposite direction.
Arya stood before the Gurudev's chamber, a mixture of determination and uncertainty in his hazel eyes. The Gurukul, though now restored to its peaceful state, bore the scars of the recent attack. Gurudev, a wise and revered figure, sat in meditation within the chamber, surrounded by the aura of ancient wisdom. He had long white hair worn in coils on his head. His long white beard reached to his belly button.
"Pranam Gurudev," Arya spoke respectfully, bowing his head. The Sage opened his eyes, acknowledging Arya's presence with a nod.
"Arya," the Sage began, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience. "I have observed your journey within these walls, and it is time for you to embark on a new path. The world outside is vast and filled with mysteries waiting to be unravelled. Your destiny lies beyond the confines of this Gurukul."
Arya's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation. "Gurudev, what do you mean? I have much to learn."
The Sage smiled enigmatically. "Arya, the time has come for you to graduate and explore the world. Seek knowledge, face challenges, and discover the truths that remain hidden. In particular, I suggest you visit your hometown. There, you may find answers to the questions that have lingered in the shadows of your mind."
Arya's heart quickened with the prospect of the unknown. "My hometown? What is it that I seek there, Gurudev?"
The Sage reached into the folds of his robes and produced a pendant, it was a Rudraksha woven into some black thread. "Take this pendant, Arya. This pendant belonged to your parents. When I found you, your parents had this in their possessions and now, it is yours. It may guide you on your journey and unveil the mysteries that shroud your past."
Arya accepted the pendant, his fingers tracing the patterns. "Thank you, Gurudev. I will heed your advice and explore the world, seeking truth."
The Sage's expression turned solemn. "Before you embark on this journey, Arya, I have one more piece of guidance to offer. As your Guru, I ask for a Gurudakshina—a token of gratitude. Promise me, Arya, that in the face of challenges, grief, or anger, you will not be swayed by vengeance. Let righteousness be your guiding light. Promise me that you will not let the shadows of the past consume your soul."
Arya looked into the Sage's eyes, a deep understanding passing between them. "I promise, Gurudev. I will not pursue vengeance, and I will tread the path of righteousness, even in the darkest of times."
The Sage nodded a sense of fulfilment in his gaze. "May your journey be blessed, Arya. Remember, the true strength lies in conquering the storms within. Now go, and may the universe guide you on your path."
With the pendant clasped in his hand and the weight of Gurudev's words in his heart, Arya left the chamber, ready to face the unknown with a steadfast commitment to righteousness.