Kalki felt the weight of the sage's words as he sat in the dim, crumbling room. The fire crackled softly, its light flickering against the walls covered with old scrolls, relics, and artifacts—each one seemed like a testament to forgotten eras of power and wisdom.
The old sage's eyes glimmered in the firelight, watching Kalki with a quiet intensity. "The temple you seek is not just a place of stone and blood, but a prison of ancient horrors. It is built upon a tear between this world and the abyss, a place where the laws of reality break. The gods sealed it long ago, but there are cracks in every seal."
Kalki remained silent, absorbing the gravity of the situation. He had heard many legends, seen many places touched by the darkness of Kali Yuga, but this was something deeper. Something primal.
"I have heard whispers of the temple," Kalki said. "But no one speaks of it openly."
The sage nodded. "They don't speak of it because it is feared by even the most ruthless kings and sects. The forces within it... they devour the unworthy, consume their essence, and leave only shadows. Even those of great power have never returned."
Kalki leaned forward, his gaze hardening. "I have no choice. I must enter."
The sage's lips curled into a slight smile, his teeth yellowed and sharp. "Ah, the resolve of youth. But you are not like the others who came before. You carry the blood of gods, and your fate is intertwined with the end of this cursed age."
For a moment, Kalki felt a wave of unease wash over him. The weight of prophecy was something he never enjoyed carrying. Every step he took seemed like another march toward an inevitable destiny. Yet, he never allowed himself to show hesitation.
"And how do I survive what lies within the temple?" Kalki asked. "What am I truly up against?"
The sage's eyes flickered, reflecting the dancing flames. "The temple is not just a passage into the abyss. It is a mirror. The darkness that exists within you will manifest, take form, and strike. It will know your weaknesses, your doubts, your fears. The only way to overcome it is to embrace your shadow."
Kalki's brow furrowed. He had faced demons, men, and creatures of the darkest realms, but this was different. This wasn't just a test of strength—it was a test of his very soul.
**"अविद्यायामन्तरे वर्तमानाः स्वयं धीराः पण्डितं मन्यमानाः। दन्द्रम्यमाणाः परियन्ति मूढा अन्धेनैव नीयमाना यथान्धाः।"
(In the darkness of ignorance, they consider themselves wise and learned. Like blind men leading the blind, they wander and falter).** — the sage's voice softened as he recited the verse, his words sinking into the thick air around them. "The true enemy lies not in the abyss, but in the ignorance of one's self."
Kalki closed his eyes briefly, letting the Sanskrit verse resonate within him. The prophecy, drawn from the Bhagavad Gita, echoed the truths he had long avoided—his fear of failing the world, of not living up to the expectations placed on him.
"How do I fight that?" Kalki asked softly, the weight of his question clear.
The sage's smile faded. "You don't fight it. You accept it. The abyss is not just in the temple, Kalki. It is in you. The line between light and dark runs through the heart of every man. What you will face is not an enemy, but a reflection of your darkest self."
Kalki stood, his mind racing. "I'm ready."
The sage nodded, but his expression remained somber. "If you survive the temple, you will not emerge the same. The abyss will change you, mark you forever. But perhaps... that is the only way to defeat the darkness that threatens this world."
As Kalki turned to leave, the old man called out one last time. "Remember, Kalki... shadows cannot exist without light. Whatever you encounter in that temple, it is part of you. Do not fight it blindly."
Kalki paused briefly at the door, taking in the sage's final words before disappearing into the cold night.
The path to the temple led Kalki through Sangrashtra's underbelly, through narrow streets where light barely reached. He moved with purpose, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, prepared for whatever came next.
The city around him began to change the closer he got to the temple's location. The air grew heavier, colder, and the energy shifted. It was as if the very earth beneath his feet rejected the temple's presence. The buildings became fewer, more dilapidated, until all that remained was a jagged landscape, cracked and twisted from centuries of neglect.
At the edge of the city, Kalki saw it—an ancient structure, half-buried beneath the ruins of the old world. Its stone walls were blackened, as if scorched by fire, and the entrance was a jagged maw of darkness.
He hesitated for the briefest of moments, feeling the pull of the temple's energy, a malevolent force that seemed to call out to him. Kalki could sense the eyes on him again—the same watchful presence from before. He didn't know if it was the woman or something else. But it didn't matter.
Taking a deep breath, Kalki stepped forward, entering the temple.
Inside, the air was thick and oppressive, filled with an unnatural stillness. Torches lined the walls, but their flames flickered weakly, barely illuminating the cold stone passageway. Every step Kalki took echoed, and the sound seemed to be swallowed by the darkness ahead.
The deeper he went, the colder it became. The relic Arya had given him pulsed faintly beneath his cloak, as if reacting to the temple's malevolent energy.
After what felt like an eternity, Kalki came to a massive stone chamber. The walls were adorned with faded carvings—scenes of battles, death, and sacrifice. At the center of the room stood a large stone altar, cracked and worn with age.
Suddenly, the air shifted. The shadows in the room began to move, swirling together and taking form. Kalki drew his sword, watching as the darkness coalesced into a figure.
It was a perfect reflection of himself.
The shadow-Kalki stood tall, mirroring his every move, but its eyes glowed with a malevolent red light. It grinned—a twisted, mocking version of Kalki's own smile.
Without warning, the shadow lunged forward, its blade flashing in the dim light. Kalki barely had time to react, raising his sword to block the strike. The force of the impact sent a jolt through his arm, but he held firm.
As the two clashed, Kalki realized the truth—the sage had been right. This wasn't an ordinary fight. The shadow knew his every move, every strength, and every weakness.
The battle raged on, each strike of the shadow-Kalki's blade cutting deeper—not into his flesh, but into his soul. It was as if every blow exposed the doubts and fears he had long buried.