The sky above the Celestial Palace was not as it usually was that night. Normally, the vast expanse over the realm of the gods was adorned with eternal stars, painting an unmatched grandeur. But tonight, darkness cloaked it. Black clouds gathered from all four corners, swirling ominously like a colossal vortex above the peak of Mount Mahameru. Lightning flashed wildly within the churning mass, occasionally forming the silhouette of a coiling dragon in a dazzling burst of light.
Inside the Celestial Palace, the crystal pillars that usually radiated a soft glow now cast shifting shadows across the grand halls. A sense of unease permeated the once-tranquil air. Handmaidens scurried through the cold marble corridors, carrying golden trays laden with incense and offerings. Their faces were tight with fear, their lips whispering ceaselessly, as if murmuring words not meant for just any ears.
"The night sky… it feels different," one handmaiden whispered, her hands trembling as she placed a stick of incense atop a jade altar.
An older handmaiden shook her head, her gaze filled with worry. "This is not a good omen. The prophecy… its time may have come."
Out on the palace balcony, the gods stood in solemn silence. Their eyes were fixed upon the ever-expanding vortex in the heavens. The wind howled, tugging at their flowing robes, yet none of them dared to speak. They all knew—this was no ordinary storm. This was a summons from the universe itself.
Amidst them stood Indra Sagara, the King of the Gods. His towering figure was draped in robes of gold, embroidered with threads of lightning. His face was stern, yet his gaze betrayed an unease rarely seen upon him. In his powerful grip, the Thunder Staff trembled ever so slightly, as though resonating with the immense force tearing through the sky.
A hushed voice rose among the deities, barely audible. "The heavens are speaking… This is the night of the prophecy. The child will be born."
Indra Sagara remained silent. His eyes did not waver from the swirling black clouds. Another bolt of lightning slashed through the sky, and in its blinding brilliance, he saw it once more—the colossal dragon, coiling within the tempest. His heart pounded. His mind drifted to the prophecy that had been passed down through generations.
In his thoughts, the ancient words resounded once more, as if they had been etched into his very soul:
"A child shall be born, bearing the mark of the dragon. They shall be the bridge between three realms: mortals, gods, and darkness. But the bridge may bring ruin upon them all."
Indra Sagara's grip tightened around the Thunder Staff, feeling the pulse of energy coursing through it. As the King of the Gods, it was his duty to maintain the balance of the worlds. But this prophecy was not just about the fate of existence—it spoke of his own flesh and blood.
A hurried set of footsteps echoed behind him. A divine messenger rushed forward, his face taut with urgency. With breath still unsteady, he knelt before Indra Sagara and said, "Your Majesty, the Council of the Gods has convened. A decision has been made. They have decreed that the child must…"
Indra Sagara raised a hand, halting the words before they could be spoken in full. His gaze was cold. "I know."
He let out a slow breath before turning away from the balcony, his steps steady as he made his way toward the grand hall where the Council of the Gods awaited. His footsteps echoed heavily, as though the weight of the world bore down upon him.
As he entered the hall, towering pillars of crystal shimmered with golden-blue light, radiating an aura of majesty and power. Seated in a great circle were the members of the Council—elders and lords of the elements. At the chamber's center, an aged god with long white hair cascading to the floor tapped his staff upon the crystalline surface, signaling the commencement of the gathering.
"The prophecy has come to pass," the elder's voice resounded, reverberating through the chamber. "The child has been born."
One of the council members, a god clad in crimson robes with eyes like burning embers, stepped forward and spoke with unwavering resolve. "The prophecy names the child as the bridge of three realms, but let us not forget the rest. If this child lives, the balance will be shattered. Ruin will follow."
A younger god in green robes rose to his feet, defiance in his voice. "The prophecy does not say with certainty that the child will bring destruction! It is merely a possibility. We must not act recklessly."
"A possibility far too great to ignore," countered the crimson-robed god, his tone sharp as steel. "If we allow the child to grow, their power will become something beyond control. We cannot take that risk."
Silence settled over the chamber once more. The gods exchanged glances, yet none spoke in opposition.
The elder tapped his staff once again and declared, "The decision has been made. The child must not live."
The decree struck Indra Sagara like a thunderclap to the chest. Though he had anticipated this outcome, hearing the words spoken aloud still sent a tremor through him.
Yet, as the King of the Gods, he could not allow his emotions to show. With an expression unreadable, he bowed his head in acknowledgment.
"I understand."
The elder of the council fixed his sharp gaze upon Indra Sagara. "We know this is difficult for you, Indra Sagara. But a leader's duty is to see the greater picture, not be swayed by personal sentiment."
Indra Sagara only nodded. Yet within his heart, a storm raged.
His steps felt heavy as he left the chamber of the Council of the Gods. The decision had been made—his child could not be allowed to live. But how could he, as a father, permit his own flesh and blood to be destroyed?
As he neared his chambers, the air grew thick, heavier than usual. The light from the crystal pillars lining the palace corridors flickered uneasily, as if sensing the storm that was about to break.
Then, he heard the scream.
Ratnadewi's scream.
Indra Sagara ran. He did not heed the bowing guards as he passed them. His mind held only one thought—Ratnadewi and their child.
He pushed open the doors to his queen's chamber, and at once, a blinding radiance engulfed him.
Ratnadewi lay upon the bed, her body hovering several inches above the surface, enveloped in a silver-blue aura that grew ever brighter. Her breath came in ragged gasps, yet her eyes remained open, filled with unshakable resolve.
Within the chamber, handmaidens who had tried to approach were pushed back by an unseen force. The room was flooded with a power unlike anything before—an energy of birth, vast and immeasurable.
Indra Sagara stood frozen. He knew what was happening.
The birth of a god-child was never like this. But this time, the presence of the child within Ratnadewi's womb was disrupting the balance of the world itself.
The skies above the Celestial Palace darkened further. Lightning, which had only flickered in the distance before, now crashed down upon the palace spires. The sacred flames burning in the ancestral altars dimmed, and far below, at the foot of Mount Mahameru, the rivers began to flow against their natural course.
The world was responding to the birth of Nagantara.
Ratnadewi bit her lip, trying to endure the pain. Her body convulsed, and from her back, the silver light burst forth with greater intensity.
"Indra… I cannot hold it back much longer…" Ratnadewi's voice trembled, yet within it was the strength of a mother who would not waver.
At last, Indra Sagara moved. He strode swiftly to her side, placing his hand upon her radiant womb. Closing his eyes, he channeled his divine lightning into her body, attempting to balance the raging energy within.
But then—
A blinding explosion of light filled the chamber.
At its peak, Ratnadewi arched her body back, and then—
A cry rang out.
Nagantara's first cry.
A cry that did not merely echo within the room but resounded throughout the Celestial Palace, trembled across Mount Mahameru, and soared into both the mortal realm and the realm of darkness.
In the realm of the gods, the once-clouded sky transformed—the stars that had been veiled suddenly reappeared, but now they aligned in an unfamiliar formation, resembling the coiled shape of a dragon.
In the mortal world, priests and elder shamans deep in their ancient prayers jolted upright, sensing a great shift in the air. The waters of sacred lakes rippled violently, birds roused from their slumber took flight in panic, and the winds howled, sweeping the leaves from the trees.
In the realm of darkness, Nagantara's cry struck like a mighty hammer against the walls of silence.
In the shadows, slumbering spirits stirred, one by one, blinking awake as the abyss itself shuddered.
At the very depths of the earth, near the roots of the Tree of Life, Antaboga opened his eyes.
The great dragon lifted his massive head, his colossal form quivering with the resonance of that sound. He gazed upward, as though peering through the very layers of existence, and in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, he whispered:
"He has been born… The world will never be the same."
In the chamber, Ratnadewi lay weak, but in her arms, the newborn stirred peacefully.
Indra Sagara looked upon his son. Upon the child's back, the mark of the coiling dragon glowed—a brilliant silver-blue light.
That mark was no mere symbol. It pulsed like a heartbeat, as if it was alive, connected to the power of all three realms.
Tears glistened in Ratnadewi's eyes as she smiled weakly. "Nagantara… Your name is Nagantara."
Indra Sagara remained still, unable to tear his gaze away from the glowing mark on his son's back. He knew what it meant.
The prophecy had come to pass. A child had been born with the mark of the dragon—a bridge between three realms. But a bridge could either be a savior or a destroyer.
And now, a choice had to be made.
From the distance, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the palace halls. The guards had been sent to take the child.
Indra Sagara clenched his fists. He turned to Ratnadewi, who was still gazing at him with hope. "We must protect him."
Ratnadewi nodded. They would not allow the Council of the Gods to take their child so easily.
From outside, a heavy thud resounded. The guards had reached their chamber.
BANG!
The doors burst open with force.
The celestial guards marched in with measured steps, their faces void of emotion, yet their eyes carried a singular purpose—to take the child.
Indra Sagara stepped between them and Ratnadewi, his form radiating power, the Thunder Staff in his grip trembling, ready to strike down any who dared approach.
The leader of the guards, a tall god clad in silver robes, stepped forward and spoke in an icy tone. "Your Majesty, surrender the child."
Ratnadewi clutched her baby tightly, sweat still glistening on her weakened body, but the fire in her eyes did not waver. "No mother would surrender her child to death."
The guard's expression did not change. "We only follow the Council's decree."
"A decree born of fear." Indra Sagara's voice was sharp, rolling like thunder through the chamber. "I will not let you lay a hand upon him."
The captain of the guards raised his hand, signaling his men. Two guards stepped forward, their spears glowing with divine energy.
Indra Sagara lifted his staff, and in an instant, lightning streaked down from the heavens, striking the marble floor with a deafening crack. A shockwave blasted through the room, forcing the guards to stumble back.
"Now, do it!"
Ratnadewi turned to her most trusted handmaiden, a young woman who had never left her side. The handmaiden knelt before her, reverence and fear mingling in her eyes.
"Your Majesty…?"
With great effort, Ratnadewi reached for the handmaiden's hands and placed the tiny child in her arms. Her gaze wavered, but her voice remained firm. "Take him… To the mortal world… Far from the Celestial Palace… Do not let them find him."
The handmaiden's eyes widened in shock, but she knew—this was not a request. It was a command.
"But, Your Majesty—"
"Do not refuse!" Ratnadewi's voice wavered, but within it lay an authority that could not be denied. "Take him somewhere safe… and never return."
She knew her time was running out. Her breath grew weaker, her body lighter.
As the handmaiden knelt, receiving Nagantara in her arms, Ratnadewi's trembling fingers reached for the pendant around her neck. A small crystal vial dangled from it, filled with shimmering stardust, its light pulsing faintly.
"Take this…" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
The handmaiden hesitated, then reached out cautiously. "Your Majesty, what is this…?"
"Stardust." Ratnadewi smiled weakly. "Only a god can open the Cloud Gate. But with this… you will be able to."
The handmaiden clasped the pendant tightly, understanding its vital importance to Nagantara's survival. "I understand."
Ratnadewi gave a slow nod. Her vision blurred, but her determination did not falter. "Go… now."
The handmaiden bit her lip, tears streaming down her cheeks. She nodded quickly, then wrapped baby Nagantara in Ratnadewi's blue shawl before turning and rushing toward the altar at the far side of the room, where a secret passage lay hidden behind an ancient dragon carving.
Indra Sagara caught a glimpse of the handmaiden disappearing into the hidden corridor before turning his gaze back to the guards, fury blazing in his eyes.
The captain narrowed his own. "Your Majesty, do you defy the will of the Council?"
Indra Sagara did not answer with words.
Instead, he swung the Thunder Staff, unleashing a surge of electricity that crackled through the air, striking out in all directions!
The guards staggered back, but they were no ordinary soldiers. Swiftly, they regained their footing, raising their gleaming spears and lunging forward in a flurry of divine precision.
CLANG!
The spear blades clashed against streaks of lightning. Sparks erupted in the air, the room trembled, and cracks began to spread across the crystalline floor.
Indra Sagara moved swiftly, dodging their strikes while striking back with his own. But he knew—this was only a battle for time. What mattered most was that the handmaiden carrying Nagantara must escape!
Meanwhile, the handmaiden ran through the hidden corridor, clutching Nagantara tightly to her chest.
The stone walls around her were lined with ancient dragon carvings, glimmering faintly in the silver-blue light.
In her arms, Nagantara remained asleep, the dragon mark on his back pulsing faintly, emitting a glow as if guiding their way.
"We must make it…" she whispered.
She looked ahead—at the end of the corridor stood the Cloud Gate, an ancient portal that could only be opened with the stardust of a god.
As the handmaiden vanished into the secret passage, carrying the sleeping infant wrapped in the blue shawl, Ratnadewi let out a slow breath.
She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out with her heart to feel Nagantara's presence growing more distant. Deep inside, she knew—her child was safe. But she herself would not be part of this journey.
Visions of the past began to rise in her mind. She remembered the day she first met Indra Sagara. To her, Indra was not just a king—he was the light in her life.
She recalled the love that grew between them, the way they laughed beneath the starry skies, the way Indra had sworn to protect her from all things. And now, she knew… he had kept his promise.
But Ratnadewi would never see her husband again.
She would never watch her child grow, hear his first words, or witness his eyes opening to the world. She would never hold him close as a mother, caress his soft cheeks, or whisper his name with love.
She had given everything so that her child could live.
That was her fate.
And she accepted it.
Across the chamber, Indra Sagara struck the Thunder Staff one last time, unleashing a final surge of lightning that sent the guards sprawling.
They collapsed, their bodies scorched by a power too great to withstand.
Indra Sagara stood tall, his chest heaving, his eyes ablaze with fury. He had won.
But when he turned back—
Victory felt hollow.
Ratnadewi lay unmoving. She was still upon her bed, yet her breath had ceased.
"Ratnadewi…?"
Indra Sagara's steps faltered as he rushed to her side, his knees weakening as he knelt beside her. His strong hands grasped hers, but… there was no warmth left in them.
"Ratnadewi… no…"
He cupped her face in his hands, searching desperately for any sign of life. But her eyes had already closed. A faint smile still graced her lips, but she was gone.
Indra Sagara inhaled deeply, but the air felt empty.
His chest, once filled with the strength of a king, now felt crushed beneath the weight of a grief beyond words. The world seemed to fall silent.
And outside, the sky mourned with him.
Above the Celestial Palace, the swirling storm clouds stilled. The lightning that had once split the heavens vanished without a trace. The wind, once fierce, now carried only a quiet whisper—
Before, at last, the rain began to fall.
The realm of the gods… wept for Ratnadewi.
Indra Sagara bowed his head, his hands still clutching hers. Slowly, he lowered his forehead to her cold fingers, holding back the anguish that threatened to tear him apart.
He was the King of the Gods.
But at this moment…
He was just a man who had lost the love of his life.
And there was no power in all the worlds that could bring Ratnadewi back to him.
The rain fell harder.