The celebration of Swarnaprabha's birthday had barely died down when she led Mishka and Varun away from the hall, her golden robes shimmering in the torchlight. They entered the sacred chambers of Divyanchal, a place where mortal eyes seldom lingered.
The room radiated divine energy; walls carved with celestial runes glimmered faintly as Swarnaprabha stepped forward. With a graceful gesture, she raised her hands and whispered an ancient mantra, her voice resonating like the chime of sacred bells.
From the center of the chamber, a golden pedestal emerged, bathed in light. As it settled, a golden book materialized atop it, its surface etched with intricate symbols. The air around them hummed with power.
Swarnaprabha leaned close to the book, murmuring in a language older than time itself. The book's cover slowly opened, revealing a radiant golden key floating above the pages. Its glow pulsed gently, as if alive.
"This key," Swarnaprabha said, her eyes meeting Varun's, "possesses half of Jishwa's powers. It is the anchor that will unlock the other half. Guard it well, for it is the first step to locating her full strength."
Varun extended his hands with reverence. As the key left the pedestal, its golden glow dimmed, resting quietly in his palm. He carefully placed it in his bag. "Thank you, Swarnaprabha. I won't let this power go to waste."
Swarnaprabha nodded, her expression solemn. "The responsibility is heavy, young Reevavanshi. Use it wisely, for the darkness that approaches will test every fiber of your strength."
Mishka stepped forward, eyes scanning the chamber with awe. "We'll be ready," he said firmly, echoing Varun's resolve.
With the golden key secured, they turned to leave the sacred chamber, aware that even greater trials awaited before they could fully unlock Jishwa's power.
Kiara limped through the narrow, echoing cave of Brahmansh, her hand trailing along the rough stone walls for balance. The torchlight flickered, casting shadows that seemed alive, twisting and writhing with each step.
Her eyes caught something partially hidden in an alcove—an ornate frame, draped in cobwebs and dust. Kneeling closer, she brushed the dust away and gasped.
The portrait depicted a woman of extraordinary grace, clad in golden, elegant attire, wielding a trident that shimmered as though it contained the very sun. Her eyes were fierce, burning with a light that seemed to pierce through time itself.
Kiara whispered softly, "This… this must be Jishwa… or one of her previous births."
An inexplicable pull drew her forward. Her hand trembled as she reached out, fingertips brushing the painting. The moment her skin touched the canvas, the cave seemed to dissolve around her. A sudden rush of wind and light engulfed her, lifting her off the ground.
Her vision blurred, colors swirling into streaks of silver and shadow. When the world settled, Kiara realized she was no longer in Brahmansh.
The sky above was torn by a great eclipse, the sun swallowed by the moon, casting the world in an oppressive silver-grey twilight. Beneath her, the peak of the Mountain of Shadows loomed, jagged and foreboding. From its heart opened the Dark Abyss, a swirling vortex of absolute blackness, pulsating with a terrifying energy that called to the damned.
And from its depths, one figure rose.
The Warlock King—Kaal.
A sovereign of nightmares, his body seemed woven from shadow itself, eyes cold and unyielding. Around him, the Kaal Vansh moved as one—a legion of Daayans, Yakshinis, Yakshas, and Churails, each more fearsome than the last.
"The seal weakens!" Kaal's voice rumbled, silencing the murmurs of his dark court. "For twenty-five years we have waited. Today, the Dark Stronghold will be mine. The reign of light ends!"
From the sky above, a blinding light descended—a trident of pure energy, brighter than the sun. It struck the earth before the Abyss, throwing Kaal's forces into disarray.
A figure landed gracefully beside it, rising in a crouch. Her eyes burned like stars, and the intricate mark of a trident blazed across her back.
Jishwa.
She was no ordinary warrior. Forged by the Tridev themselves, her spirit carried the essence of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Behind her, the Reeva Vansh emerged—warriors blessed by the gods, their weapons glinting silver, armor etched with divine mantras, eyes resolute.
Kaal laughed, a chilling, echoing sound. "Jishwa! The Gods' final masterpiece. Did they send a prayer? Or just a weapon to be broken?"
"They sent a truth you refuse to hear," Jishwa replied, voice clear and unwavering. She lifted her trident, light gathering around it. "The Stronghold was sealed for a reason. Not even you can wield it without destroying the world."
The mountain erupted in chaos. Reeva hunters clashed with Kaal's dark army, mantras sparking against malevolent magic. Daayans shrieked, Yakshinis struck, Churails wailed—but the Reeva held their formation, disciplined and unyielding.
At the heart of the battlefield, Kaal and Jishwa collided, a storm of shadow and light. He summoned chains of darkness; she shattered them with a swing of her trident. As the eclipse peaked, Kaal forged a spear of pure oblivion, and Jishwa channeled every ounce of divine power into her weapon.
Their strike met—a shockwave of energy erupted, flinging all combatants to the ground.
Silence.
Kaal and Jishwa staggered, each on their knees. The Dark Abyss shuddered and sealed itself. The eclipse waned.
"A draw…" Kaal rasped, fading into shadows. "Twenty-five years… we meet again."
Jishwa, drained yet resolute, lifted her gaze to the heavens. "In the next life… we finish this."
The sun reclaimed the sky, and her form slowly faded, leaving only a promise written in time.
Kiara, still trembling, staggered back from the portrait's vision, her heart racing. She knew now: the battle she was about to fight, the power she sought—everything was tied to this legendary figure.