The summer sun bore down on the bustling streets of the city, casting long, unyielding shadows as people moved about in their daily routine. The hum of voices and the blaring sounds of vehicles created a symphony of city life that was as unremarkable as it was comforting. For Arjun, a young 21-year-old engineering student, the day had started like any other. He was leaving the college campus, backpack slung over one shoulder, a tired smile playing on his lips as he thought about the show he was about to attend—a rare event, one that had sparked a flicker of excitement in his otherwise monotonous life.
Arjun had grown up with the notion that his life was a series of moments tied together by small, fleeting joys. He never had a family like the others, parents who waited for him at home or siblings who shared laughter over late-night snacks. His parents had died in a car crash when he was just two years old, their faces blurred memories he couldn't quite piece together. His only family had been his grandfather, a man of stern countenance and gentle eyes. The old man had raised him, taught him the values of hard work and perseverance, and had given him a small locket to wear—an heirloom that had been passed down through generations.
The locket was a delicate piece, made of gold with intricate etchings of what appeared to be ancient symbols. He had never questioned its significance, only wearing it because it reminded him of his grandpa, who had passed away four months ago. His last words had echoed in Arjun's mind even now: "Wear it always, Arjun. It is our family's legacy and must be passed to the next heir."
Arjun's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tires screeching. The sharp, metallic scream split the air and sent a jolt of adrenaline through his veins as he turned his head, eyes wide with horror. A massive truck was bearing down on him, headlights like twin suns that seemed to blaze through the haze of his vision. Time slowed. He reached out instinctively, the locket in his hand, the weight of it grounding him in an unbearable moment of realization. It was too late.
The impact was nothing like what he had imagined. It was a sudden, brutal force that made his body crumple, pain lancing through his limbs as blood seeped from the gash in his head. A strange, numbing warmth spread through him, and the world began to blur. The last thing he felt before darkness claimed him was the locket, as it pulsed with a sudden, almost sentient energy, drawing in his blood as if it were thirsty for it.
"No… I can't… end like this…" His thoughts were a chaotic rush, memories flickering by. He thought of the life he had never lived, of the love he had never known, the regrets that clung to him like a shadow. Voices called out to him, distant and frantic.
"Boy, don't close your eyes!" The voice was urgent, pleading, yet it felt so far away. He wanted to answer, to scream, to tell them he was still here, but his vision dimmed and his senses faded.
He didn't know how much time passed after that. There was no light, no sound—only an eerie, weightless sensation. He floated in a timeless void, the silence pressing down on him, heavy and suffocating. It was as if he were trapped in the space between breaths, unable to move or speak, yet aware of everything.
Then, without warning, something shifted within him, like the crack of a whip. A powerful pull shot through his very essence, a sensation so primal it was like hunger. He felt his soul awaken, searching desperately, as if it had been adrift in a storm for eons. It reached out, an instinct stronger than reason, drawn to an unseen force that glowed with boundless power. He was moving, pulled toward it as iron is pulled to a magnet.
As he neared it, a vision came into view—a woman, radiant and serene, her form enveloped in the light of the divine. She was pregnant, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she rested a hand on her swollen belly. For a brief moment, she felt something nearby but after scanning the room , she didn't find anything and also she was in the most secure place in whole upper realm , so she thought of it as a misunderstanding and left it be. He felt himself merging with her, being drawn in like a drop of water consumed by the ocean.
He felt the shock of realization too late: he was inside her. He was no longer adrift but part of something far larger, and before he could comprehend what was happening, darkness enveloped him once more.
A month passed in the blink of an eye, and the day of the birth arrived.
The woman, who had become a figure of both strength and grace, was writhing in pain, her screams filling the grand chamber of the lavish palace. The maids hovered anxiously around her, eyes wide with worry. The room was filled with the fragrance of incense, the gentle flicker of candles casting shadows that danced like specters on the stone walls. The heavy air was pierced by the sound of labor, the woman's cries mingling with the hurried instructions of the midwives.
One of the maids, a young girl with bright eyes and a nervous smile, looked down at the newborn in her arms. A hush fell over the room as the baby lay still, not a cry escaping his lips. Fear clutched at the heart of the woman, who stared at her child with wide, unblinking eyes. "Why isn't he crying? What's wrong? " she thought, tears threatening to spill.
The midwives exchanged anxious glances and gently tapped the baby, trying to rouse him. But he lay silent, motionless, as though death had already claimed him. Despair surged in the woman's heart, a dark tide that threatened to drown her. But just as the shadow of hopelessness crept over the room, a sudden, sharp wail erupted, piercing the air like a thunderclap.
The child's eyes opened slowly and beautifully, revealing irises that glowed with a golden hue. The cries were strong, piercing, and full of life, a sound so fierce that the maids and the woman herself gasped in collective relief. The baby's eyes found hers, and in that moment, something passed between them—an unspoken bond of recognition.
The woman, tears of joy streaming down her face, cradled her newborn son in her arms and whispered, "Arjuna." The name rolled off her tongue like a blessing, as if the child had been chosen long before his birth.
The palace was alive with the echoes of celebration, the news spreading like wildfire. A new heir had been born, one whose eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light and whose cries had broken the silence of the unknown.
But within that child, something ancient and powerful stirred, awakened by the touch of blood and fate. Arjuna had been reborn, not just as a boy in the Upper Realm but as the embodiment of power, destiny, and the heir to a legacy that would change everything.