The village at the foot of the mighty waterfall thrived in peaceful isolation. Encircled by thick forests and towering cliffs, it remained untouched by the struggles of kings and empires. Here, amidst simple huts and golden fields, a young boy grew up—unaware that he was destined for greatness.
The Child of the River
Shivudu was unlike any other child in the village. From the moment he learned to walk, his gaze was always lifted upward, drawn to the colossal waterfall that loomed over their home. The villagers often whispered about his unnatural strength—how he could carry twice the weight of boys his age or how he never seemed to tire, no matter how hard he played.
Sanga, his adoptive mother, often worried about him. "Why do you always look at the sky, my son?" she would ask.
Shivudu, barely five years old at the time, would point toward the waterfall. "Because I want to see what's on the other side."
She would shake her head, smiling. "That is not for us to know. The gods have placed that mountain there for a reason."
But no matter how many times she tried to convince him, Shivudu's heart remained restless.
The Unbreakable Will
Years passed, and the boy grew into a strong young man. His body, sculpted by nature itself, possessed a raw strength that amazed the villagers. He could outrun the fastest hunters, climb trees with ease, and carry loads even the strongest men struggled with.
But his greatest obsession remained the waterfall.
Every day, he would try to climb it. And every day, he would fall.
The cliff was treacherous, its surface slick with moss and water, the winds howling like angry spirits. No one in the village had ever dared to challenge it.
But Shivudu was different. He was not content with the life laid out for him. He dreamed of something greater, something beyond the endless routine of village life.
"You are meant to be here, my son," Sanga pleaded one evening as she treated the wounds from his latest failed attempt. "Why do you fight so hard to leave?"
Shivudu looked up at the waterfall, his deep eyes filled with something she could not understand. "Because I feel like I don't belong here."
She gripped his hand tightly. "You are my son. This is your home."
Shivudu smiled, but his heart knew otherwise.
The Mask from the Heavens
One fateful day, as he sat by the river, contemplating his next attempt to scale the falls, something floated down from above—a wooden mask, beautifully carved, its patterns unlike anything he had ever seen.
Shivudu picked it up, his fingers tracing the delicate curves. Then, as if struck by lightning, he saw her.
A woman. Fierce, beautiful, and strong. Her eyes burned with defiance, and her stance spoke of battle. He could not explain it, but he knew she was real—waiting for him beyond the waterfall.
A fire ignited in his soul.
This was no longer just about climbing. This was fate calling to him.
Without hesitation, he stood up. This time, he would not fail.
He would reach the top.
The Ascent Begins
Shivudu took a deep breath and began his climb.
The rock was cold beneath his hands, the wind howling around him. He had memorized every inch of the cliff from his past failures, every crack and ledge. But this time, he was different.
He climbed with purpose.
Higher and higher he went, his muscles burning but his heart unwavering. The village became a distant memory below him, the spray of the waterfall drenching his skin as he reached for the next ledge.
Then, the wind struck.
A powerful gust sent him tumbling backward. For a heart-stopping moment, he was weightless, the ground a distant blur below. But just before he could fall, his fingers latched onto a protruding root. He dangled in the air, his heart pounding.
No. He would not fall.
With a roar, he swung himself back onto the cliff face and pushed upward.
For hours, he climbed. Through storms, through exhaustion, through pain—until finally, his hand reached over the top.
With one final pull, he hoisted himself over the edge and collapsed onto the grass.
He had done it.
As he lay there, gasping for breath, the sun rose over the horizon, bathing the land in golden light.
And before him, stretching as far as the eye could see, was the kingdom of Mahishmati.
But more importantly, standing on a distant ridge, bow in hand, was the woman from his vision.
His destiny had begun.