The soft light of dawn streamed through Krishna's window, casting a golden glow over his small apartment. His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, the dream lingered—haunting, vivid, unsettling.
But there was no time to dwell on the strange visions. Today was too important. Today, Krishna would meet Rajan Mehta, and with that meeting, his dream of bringing Kurukshetra to life might finally take its first step toward reality.He glanced down at the red crystal hanging from his neck.
Its glow, which had been so intense in his dream, was now dim and lifeless, as it always was. Shaking off the lingering sense of unease, Krishna got out of bed and began preparing for the day. The city outside was already waking up, the streets of Mumbai buzzing with life as people hurried off to work, to school, to whatever dreams or struggles they faced.Krishna's thoughts were fixed on one thing: the meeting with Rajan Mehta.
For months, he had fought for this chance, and today it was finally happening. He had rehearsed his pitch countless times, refined his ideas for Kurukshetra, and even planned out how to sell the vision of Indian mythology to an international audience. This wasn't just another meeting—it was a moment that could define the rest of his life.As his vehicle weaved through the crowded streets, the usual cacophony of Mumbai faded into the background of his thoughts.
He stared out of the window, his mind racing through the possibilities. But then, something strange happened. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a chill ran down his spine. Without thinking, his hand went to the crystal at his neck, which had begun to pulse faintly—an ominous rhythm that seemed to echo through his body.Krishna's eyes darted to the street outside. There, walking toward a nearby school, was a little girl in a bright yellow uniform.
She couldn't have been more than ten years old. Krishna's breath caught in his throat, and before he could understand why, a deafening sound shattered the calm of the morning—BOOM!The world around him exploded into chaos. The blast ripped through the street, sending debris flying, and Krishna's vehicle was violently rocked as if by an invisible hand. Shattered glass cut into his skin, and he was thrown sideways, his head slamming into the side of the car. Flames roared to life, and the screams of terrified people filled the air, mixing with the acrid smell of smoke.
Dazed and bleeding, Krishna blinked through the haze, his vision blurred by the shock of the explosion. The little girl in yellow stood frozen on the edge of the street, her small frame trembling, her wide eyes locked on the destruction in front of her. She was too close to the blast zone, too close to danger."Run!" Krishna shouted hoarsely, but she didn't move.
Paralyzed by fear, she was rooted to the spot, as if the sheer terror of the moment had turned her to stone.Without thinking, Krishna pushed open the door of the wrecked vehicle, stumbling into the chaos. His body moved on instinct, his thoughts racing with one singular focus: get the girl to safety.
He ignored the pain that shot through his limbs, the blood running down his face. Somehow, he reached her.Grabbing her arm, he pulled her away from the danger, dragging her toward the side of the road. Just as he managed to get her out of the blast radius, another explosion tore through the street. The force of it threw Krishna backward, and everything around him went dark and silent.
He hit the ground hard, the impact stealing the breath from his lungs. Pain shot through his body, sharp and unrelenting.Krishna tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't respond. His vision swam, and in the haze, he saw the little girl being led away by someone—safe now, away from the destruction. But he couldn't hear her anymore. His mind was slipping, and everything seemed to fade into a distant blur.His hand found the red crystal around his neck, which was now glowing fiercely, brighter than it had ever glowed before.
The light pulsed rapidly, a frantic rhythm that seemed to resonate deep within his soul. As Krishna's strength faded, he felt the crystal vibrate, its warmth spreading through him like a protective force. It was as though it was fighting to keep him alive, to anchor him to this world. But he knew it was too late. His body was broken, his life slipping away.With one final breath, Krishna's vision darkened completely, and the world around him disappeared. The red crystal flared once—an impossibly bright burst of light—and then, it was gone.
Dissolved into nothingness, leaving no trace of its existence.Krishna's consciousness drifted, floating in a void. The scenes of his life played out before him, fading like mist in the morning sun. And then, slowly, he became aware of a new reality—a battlefield, vast and ancient. Kurukshetra. This time, he wasn't a spectator. He stood in the center of it, a warrior, not a filmmaker, facing the armies of fate.
The red crystal still hung around his neck, pulsing with a power that was both familiar and foreign. Somewhere in the distance, a voice spoke—calm, ancient, and full of wisdom."Your story is not yet over."And then there was silence.
In the eternal realm of the divine, three gods sat in meditation, their consciousnesses linked across the vastness of time and space. Vishnu, the Preserver, rested on the cosmic serpent Ananta, his eyes closed in serene contemplation. Brahma, the Creator, sat upon his lotus throne, his four faces in deep thought as he continually shaped the fabric of reality.
And Shiva, the Destroyer, meditated on Mount Kailash, his mind attuned to the infinite cycles of creation and destruction.For eons, the cosmos had flowed in balance under their watch. The multiverse, a web of infinite realities, was held together by the threads of cosmic order—dharma, karma, and time. But now, a ripple had appeared.
Brahma was the first to sense it. His four faces turned in different directions, his divine sight piercing through the layers of the multiverse. He saw the disturbance, subtle at first, like a crack forming in the foundation of a distant universe.
A dark force was twisting the natural order, bending the laws of karma and dharma."It has begun," Brahma whispered, his voice echoing through the cosmos.Vishnu opened his eyes, his calm gaze shifting toward the disturbance. He felt the presence of something unnatural—an ancient force, older than time itself. It wasn't the gradual decline of the Kaliyug, the final age of the world. This was different.
Darker. As if something was accelerating the decay of morality, pushing the universe toward destruction faster than fate intended.Shiva remained silent, his eyes still closed, but he, too, had felt the shift. A storm was coming, one that could disrupt the delicate balance of the multiverse.In the universe where the disturbance had taken root,
The gods knew that the time for intervention was near. The cycle of creation and destruction had been disrupted, and the fate of this universe hung in the balance.A mortal had been touched by the divine—a mortal whose journey was far from over.