The platform beneath Shiva's feet shifted and split into three distinct paths, each illuminated by a different color: a fiery red, a calming blue, and a verdant green. The patterns on the stones glowed faintly, like veins pulsing with ancient life.
The voice echoed again, resonating deep within his chest.
"THREE PATHS LIE BEFORE YOU: THE TEST OF COURAGE, THE TEST OF WISDOM, AND THE TEST OF BALANCE. CHOOSE YOUR PATH, TRAVELER."
Shiva glanced at the Naga Baba, hoping for some guidance, but the elder merely nodded, his expression calm and unreadable.
"This is your choice, Shiva," the Baba said. "Each path tests a different part of you, but the lessons are all connected. Trust your instincts."
Shiva hesitated, his eyes flicking between the paths. The red path seemed to radiate heat, its stones cracked and smoldering faintly. The blue path shimmered like water, its surface rippling as if alive. The green path, in contrast, was overgrown with moss and vines, exuding a strange vitality.
After a deep breath, Shiva stepped toward the red path, his heart thudding in his chest. The moment his foot touched the stone, the other two paths dissolved into the ground, leaving only the fiery trail ahead.
"COURAGE," the voice boomed, its tone filled with both challenge and approval.
The heat intensified as Shiva moved forward, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The air seemed to grow heavier, and the ground beneath him cracked with every step, tiny flames licking at his ankles.
Suddenly, the path ended abruptly, leading to a gaping chasm. On the other side was a massive stone pedestal, its surface adorned with glowing runes. In the center of the pedestal lay a shimmering orb, pulsating with a golden light.
"This must be it," Shiva muttered, his gaze fixed on the orb.
But as he prepared to leap across the chasm, the flames around him roared to life, coalescing into a towering figure. It was a creature made entirely of fire, its form humanoid but distorted, its eyes burning like twin suns.
"PROVE YOUR COURAGE," the voice commanded, though Shiva couldn't tell if it came from the creature or the ruins themselves.
The fiery figure raised an arm, and a torrent of flames surged toward Shiva. He barely had time to dive to the side, the heat searing his skin. He scrambled to his feet, his mind racing.
Think, Shiva. Courage isn't just about fighting—it's about standing your ground.
He straightened, his fists clenched at his sides. Memories of his parents rushed into his mind—images of their faces, the warmth of their smiles. The last time he saw them before they vanished, he had been just a boy, too scared to understand what was happening. And then, after they disappeared, the dreams began—the same symbols, the same fire. It had all started then.
Shiva closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain still. He could feel the heat of the creature, blistering and overwhelming, but he held his ground. He wouldn't run this time. Not from the fire, and not from the shadows of his past.
The fiery creature paused, tilting its head as if considering his resolve. Then, it surged forward, the ground trembling beneath its steps.
But it never came.
Instead, the creature slowly lowered its arm, its fiery form dimming until it was nothing more than a faint glow. Then, it dissolved into the air, leaving behind a path of cool, unbroken stone leading to the pedestal.
Shiva exhaled sharply, his legs trembling as he crossed the chasm and reached the orb. He picked it up, its surface warm and pulsating faintly.
"WELL DONE," the voice boomed, softer this time, almost approving. "COURAGE IS NOT THE ABSENCE OF FEAR BUT THE WILL TO FACE IT."
The red path dissolved, and Shiva found himself back at the central platform, the orb still in his hand. The Naga Baba stood nearby, his expression unreadable.
"You did well," the Baba said, nodding. "But the journey is far from over. The next path awaits."
Shiva looked at the blue and green trails that had reappeared, their glowing patterns beckoning him forward. He tightened his grip on the orb, determination flickering in his eyes.
"I'm ready," he said, stepping toward the next trial.
The moment his foot touched the blue path, the air around him changed. It was cooler, calmer, with the faint scent of rain and the sound of rippling water filling his ears. The stones beneath his feet shimmered like liquid, reflecting the sky above in distorted patterns. He felt as though he were walking on the surface of a serene lake.
"WISDOM," the voice intoned, softer but no less commanding. "TO SEE CLEARLY, YOU MUST LOOK WITHIN."
Shiva moved cautiously, his steps deliberate. The path stretched endlessly forward, the rippling reflections growing more chaotic with each step. As he continued, the water beneath him grew darker, and the reflections changed. They were no longer of the sky but of moments from his own life—his childhood, the years he spent searching for answers, the faces of people he had met along the way. Some were kind, others were not.
One image froze him in his tracks: a reflection of himself as a boy, sitting alone in the corner of a dimly lit room. His younger self was crying, clutching a piece of cloth—his mother's scarf.
Shiva knelt, staring into the water, his breath hitching as the ripples began to form vivid, agonizing images. The scene shifted, and there they were—his parents, their faces etched with a desperate mix of fear and love. He could hear their hurried words, muffled but unmistakably urgent. His mother's arms wrapped tightly around him, her trembling voice whispering reassurances even as her tears soaked his hair. His father stood guard by the doorway, his silhouette framed by flickering flames and distant, ominous sounds.
Shiva's chest tightened as he relived the moment his mother let him go, her hands lingering on his cheeks, her eyes silently pleading with him to be brave. "We'll find you again, my son," she had promised. But then, everything dissolved into chaos—blinding light, roaring heat, and an emptiness that had haunted him ever since. He had buried these memories deep, locking them away behind walls of anger and confusion, convinced they only brought pain. But now, seeing them through the water's lens, he felt their true weight.
"They weren't disappear," he whispered, his voice trembling as tears streamed down his face. "They were trying to save me. They gave everything to protect me."
The pain surged through him, raw and relentless, but alongside it came a bittersweet clarity. He clenched his fists, feeling both the ache of loss and a newfound strength. These memories weren't a curse—they were a reminder of the love that had shaped him, the courage his parents had passed on. He wouldn't let their sacrifice be in vain.
"They were trying to protect me," he whispered, his voice trembling. "They weren't dissappear —they were saving me."
The water rippled again, and the reflection shifted to show his own face, older now, determined and unyielding. He reached out and touched the surface, and the image dissolved. In its place, the path ahead solidified, clear and steady.
"KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT UNDERSTANDING IS EMPTY," the voice echoed. "YOU HAVE SEEN. YOU HAVE UNDERSTOOD. CONTINUE FORWARD."
Shiva rose to his feet, his resolve now a blazing fire in his chest. The ache of his parents' absence no longer felt like a hollow wound—it was a tether to their strength, their love, and the sacrifices they made to protect him. The path ahead shimmered with an almost celestial clarity, as though the universe itself acknowledged his steps.
Each movement forward felt like a triumph over the shadows of his past, and for the first time in years, the weight pressing on his shoulders began to lift. This wasn't just a journey through an ancient trial; it was his reclamation of everything he had lost, everything he had become. With each deliberate step, he embraced the storm of emotions within him—pain, hope, and a fierce determination to honor the legacy his parents had left behind.
The path ahead no longer felt uncertain; it was his to conquer. But as the blue light dimmed, the platform beneath his feet reformed, revealing the third and final path: a searing expanse of molten rock and blistering heat. The air itself shimmered with the intensity of the heatwaves, and a low, rumbling sound filled his ears.
The Naga Baba's voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere, calm but grave. "This is the Test of the Body, Shiva. Pain, endurance, and strength. Few pass this trial intact."
Shiva stepped forward, his body already recoiling at the overwhelming heat radiating from the stones ahead. Each step felt like walking on burning coals. His skin prickled, then burned, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He gritted his teeth, focusing on his parents' faces, their voices echoing in his mind. He couldn't stop now.
As he ventured deeper, the path became a living hell. Lava churned and spat, licking at his ankles. His feet blistered, and the pain tore screams from his throat, each one more raw than the last. His voice cracked, his vocal cords straining under the weight of his agony, until finally, no sound came. He staggered, his body trembling uncontrollably, but he refused to fall.
Memories of his parents flashed before him—their last words, their desperate faces. He clung to those images like a lifeline. "I have to keep going," he rasped, though the words were barely audible. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, the heat scorching his skin. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat that dripped onto the glowing stones beneath him.
He screamed again, but no sound escaped. His body convulsed, every muscle twitching under the relentless assault of pain. He tried to rise, but his arms gave out, and he fell forward, his hands landing inches from the lava's edge. The searing heat burned his palms, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his skin as if the physical pain could anchor him.
"This is where most falter," the Naga Baba's voice echoed faintly in his mind. "The body is weak, but the spirit is stronger."
Shiva's vision blurred, his consciousness slipping. He thought of his parents again—their love, their sacrifice, their promise to protect him. "I can't fail them," he thought, gritting his teeth so hard he tasted blood. With a guttural cry, he pushed himself up, his entire body screaming in protest. His legs wobbled, his chest heaved, and his skin felt like it was peeling away, but he forced himself forward, step by excruciating step.
He stumbled, fell, and rose again, each time his determination growing fiercer. The pain became a constant, a part of him, but his mind clung to a single, unyielding thought: he had to see his family again. He had to understand the truth of their disappearance. His body might fail him, but his will refused to break.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shiva reached the end of the path. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cool, solid stone of the final platform. His body twitched uncontrollably, the remnants of pain still coursing through him. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his throat raw and silent from screaming.
Above him, the voice boomed one last time, softer now, almost reverent. "YOU HAVE ENDURED. YOU HAVE SUFFERED. YOU HAVE PROVEN THAT THE STRENGTH OF THE BODY IS NOTHING WITHOUT THE FIRE OF THE SPIRIT."
The heat dissipated, replaced by a soothing breeze that swept over him. Shiva closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks, not from pain but from relief. His parents' faces lingered in his mind, their love a beacon that had carried him through the impossible.
When he finally opened his eyes, the Naga Baba was standing before him, his expression unreadable but his gaze filled with quiet pride. "You have passed, Shiva," he said simply. "Now, the path forward is yours to shape."