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- Natore Rajbari, Natore, Bengal Province-
- July 6, 1936 -
The Natore Rajbari stood with quiet dignity, its halls echoing with a history far older than the empire that sought to rule it. White marble pillars framed the sprawling estate, and the scent of monsoon-drenched earth lingered in the air. The royal family still resided here—untouched by rebellion but never ignorant of the storm sweeping across India.
Aryan walked through the corridors, past servants who bowed respectfully. To them, he was more than a guest—he was family. The fiancé of Shakti, the niece of the Maharaja of Natore, and the heir of the prestigious Rajvanshi family.
But today, he wasn't here on an official visit. He was here for Shakti.
The room prepared for him was modest compared to the grandeur of the palace, yet comfortable—meant for a member of the household rather than a visiting dignitary. As he stepped inside, Shakti was already waiting.
She stood by the open window, the humid breeze tugging at her deep blue sari. A single candle flickered on the table between them, though the light was unnecessary. Shakti carried her own glow—faint, shifting, like space itself folded around her presence.
She turned, her eyes meeting his. There was no distance between them, no formalities. Not here.
"You came quickly," she said, her voice steady, but he saw the tension in her hands, the way she kept her fingers curled as if afraid to move.
"Of course. Even when you tried to hide it during the call via the seal, I could hear the tension in your voice," he replied simply.
A small smile tugged at her lips, but it faded just as fast. She exhaled, glancing at her hand. For a second, it shimmered—her fingers losing definition, the edges of her form bending as if existence itself was struggling to contain her. With a slow breath, she willed herself back to normal.
"It's getting worse," she admitted. "I can still hold myself together, but it takes effort. And the more I use my powers, the harder it gets."
Aryan studied her carefully. He had seen her grow stronger over the months, shaping the Power Cosmic with a mastery that surpassed anything he had expected. Unlike the heralds of Galactus, she wasn't borrowing this force through a conduit. Her X-Gene had given her direct access to it, something even cosmic beings did not possess.
But power without structure was chaos.
He stepped closer, watching her carefully. "How long has it been like this?"
Shakti sighed, running a hand through her hair. "A few weeks. At first, it was just small distortions. A flicker here and there. But now… I have to focus constantly just to stay in one place. If I don't—" She hesitated. "It's like I start slipping away."
He reached out, taking her hand. It was warm, solid, real. But beneath the surface, he could feel the strain. Her energy was unfixed, unstable, as if her very presence was trying to stretch beyond the constraints of reality.
"You're anchoring yourself manually," Aryan murmured, understanding the problem. "That's why it's draining you."
Shakti nodded. "I can manage for now, but if I push too hard…" She clenched her jaw. "I don't know if I'll be able to pull myself back."
She didn't say it, but Aryan knew what she meant. She trusted him. She loved him. And in her eyes, there was no problem he couldn't solve.
So, he would. He had come a long way from his initial abilities and control over energy, and now he could vaguely understand the nature of her problem.
He led her to the table, motioning for her to sit. He remained standing, hands on the wooden surface as he thought. "From what I understand, the Power Cosmic is nearly limitless, but it's not designed to exist inside a mortal body without a conduit. I've previously told you about Galactus, a cosmic entity, when I was teaching you how to control your powers. He also has the ability to weild this power, and has the knowledge and experience to harness and amplify it without issue. He channels this energy into his heralds, transforming them into nearly omnipotent beings. His heralds don't struggle with control because they don't have to. But you? You're rewriting reality without a stabilizing force of your own."
She nodded. "I know. But my so-called X-Gene lets me use it. So, what's missing?"
Aryan considered for a moment. "A foundation."
She tilted her head. "Explain."
"You're treating your existence like a balancing act. But power this vast needs something permanent—an unshakable core. A conduit, not for power, but for stability." His eyes locked onto hers. "You need an anchor."
Shakti was silent for a moment. Then she whispered, "What kind of anchor?"
Aryan held out his hand. "Let's find out."
She hesitated only briefly before placing her palm in his. Immediately, he felt it—her energy, vast and untamed, struggling against the confines of her form. It wasn't that she lacked control. It was that her very nature had started evolving beyond the constraints of a singular existence.
He focused. His own abilities were different, but if he could interact with, absorb, or harmonize with all types of energy, then helping her stabilizing something like the Power Cosmic—just another form of cosmic energy—was within his reach, with the help of his Perfect Energy Control and maxed out Energy Sense skills. He extended his energy carefully, weaving it through hers, searching for something she could hold onto—something that would not break, no matter how far she expanded.
Her breathing slowed. Her presence steadied.
Aryan didn't force a solution on her. Instead, he guided her to find it herself. "What's the one thing that has never changed for you?" he asked softly. "The one thing that feels unshakable?"
She closed her eyes, focusing. Her energy settled, drawn toward something deep within her. Then, she exhaled, and for the first time in weeks, she felt grounded.
Her eyes opened.
"You," she whispered.
Aryan's grip on her hand tightened slightly. He hadn't expected that answer, but he didn't question it.
Shakti wasn't just choosing him as her anchor—she was choosing the certainty he gave her. The belief that no matter how far she stretched, no matter how powerful she became, she would always have a place to return to.
And in that moment, she stabilized. Aryan could feel himself connected with Shakti at a much deeper level than he had ever imagined. He felt her love for him, her expectations, her determination. But rather than feeling burdened by them, he felt warm and comforted. If Shakti believed in him this much, then he would prove her faith in him right.
The flickering ceased. The air around her no longer wavered. She was still powerful, still filled with energy beyond comprehension, but now… she wasn't struggling against it.
She had control.
Shakti exhaled slowly, testing it, letting herself relax. "It's… easier."
Aryan smiled faintly. "Good."
She looked up at him, expression softer now. "Thank you."
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Always."
The moment passed, but something had shifted. Not just in her control, but between them. There was no hesitation now—no uncertainty.
Shakti had always been strong. But now, she was unshakable.
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