The rain was slowing now, softening to a cold drizzle, but the sky still groaned with the threat of thunder. The only sound in the atmosphere was the relentless drip of water from the leaves, mixing with the ragged breath of the small boy and his dying mother.
Rudraksha held Gauri's remaining hand, squeezing it desperately. His heart refused to accept the finality of the severed arm and the stillness of her body. He needed a sign, a promise, a miracle.
"Maa, wh…what is it?" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Tell me! I'll agree to anything! Any promise! We can still be saved!"
It was a childish, desperate hope, one he clung to even as the terrible coldness of death radiated from her. Rudraksha was unknowingly bracing himself for the final, heartbreaking blow that only his mother could deliver.
Gauri turned her head slowly, painfully. Her gaze was directed forward, fixed on a world Rudraksha could not yet see. Her voice was thin, labored, yet clear enough to carry the immense weight of her instruction.
"I h…have done my duty as a mother," she whispered, her words interspersed with shallow, heavy breaths. "To give b…birth and r-raise you…And now…now you need to repay it for me."
She rested her head back against the tree, gathering her final strength. Her gaze swept over the muddy, blood-soaked scene—the dead men, the slain Commander, the broken swords.
"You al…already heard everything, ri…right? About that man and his empire?"
Rudraksha nodded quickly, his chest tight with fear. "Yes, Maa. The man who helped conquer us."
Gauri's eyes, full of a fierce, dying light, fixed on her son. This was not the promise of a warrior, but the final, desperate gambit of a deposed Queen.
"Like that man helped to conquer my people and my ki…kingdom, you will go and conquer the empire he served," she commanded, the words ringing with cold, absolute authority. "No matter what it costs you. And af…after that, you can do any…anything to that man. Be the str…strongest, the most clever, the most p...atient which I couldn't achieve. Pro...mise me this only, Rudrak...sha."
Rudraksha, clutching her hand, his own small hand smeared with her blood, shouted his reply, his voice cracking with emotion. "Yes! Yes, Maa, I will do it! You will see it! I promise!"
Gauri's expression softened, a mixture of peace and sorrow. "I don't know h… how you will survive… but go to Ta…Taxila from he…here."
The name of the ancient and prosperous city, a nexus of trade and learning, struck a chord in Rudraksha's heart, but the underlying implication of the instruction was a death sentence.
"No, no, Maa!" he sobbed, the tears flowing freely again. "You will also su…survive! We will go to…together there, and anywhere you like! You promised me you wouldn't leave me, then…"
Gauri chuckled softly, a wet, heartbreaking sound. With the last reserve of strength in her core, she moved her body forward, managing to wrap her remaining arm around him. She leaned toward his neck, delivering her final, loving word.
"I will al…ways be with you, my li…little fool…"
And then, just as suddenly as she had moved, Gauri's body went completely still. Her breath stopped. The immense weight of her lifeless form rested entirely on her son.
Rudraksha waited for a moment, confused by the sudden silence, the profound stillness of the body clinging to him. He shook her gently, then harder, chanting, "No, no, no, no…" He desperately checked her neck, trying to find the pulse that was no longer there, listening for the breath that had already fled.
The truth crashed down upon him. His mo…mother was gone.
He pressed her body, attempting anything to wake her, but she remained motionless, cold, and heavy. Rudraksha's heartbreak erupted in a desperate, primal sound. He pulled his hair, his small chest heaving with the magnitude of his despair.
He drew a breath and screamed—a long, piercing cry of absolute loss and fury that echoed through the forest. "NOOO! DON'T GOOOO!"
Simultaneously, the loudest, most violent thunderclap since the monsoon began crashed overhead, tearing the silence apart. Birds and frightened creatures fled the perimeter, leaving the small clearing entirely devoid of life, save for the dead and the one terrified boy.
Rudraksha, driven by pure, animalistic rage, began punching the rough tree bark beside Gauri's head, pounding it until his knuckles were raw and bloody. After a minute of this frantic, useless violence, he slumped, completely weak, beside his dead mother, heaving deep, ragged breaths. His tears had stopped, replaced by a cold, burning despair.
...
At this time, Thousands of leagues away—in the Far East. There is a large, advanced city of unparalleled architectural splendor, the air was suddenly charged with inexplicable energy. In this metropolis, an old man sat in a quiet, immaculate courtyard.
This man was Master Xiao, a venerable sage with a large white beard and long, flowing hair, known for his mastery of Taoist philosophy, statecraft, and celestial observation. He was often called the Wisest Man of the Century. He was the Imperial Master of the powerful dynasty that Zarakan had mentioned.
Master Xiao was deeply absorbed in meditation, tracing the flow of Qi (life energy) through his body, when the subtle, powerful energy of the world suddenly fractured.
CLANG!
Master Xiao's eyes flew open. He gasped, his body convulsing as if struck by lightning, and he slumped violently to the polished stone ground. He was not injured; he was shaken to his very soul by a catastrophic celestial event.
Imperial Guards stationed outside the courtyard instantly rushed in, helping the Master to his feet. "Imperial Master! Are you injured? What happened?"
Master Xiao, breathing heavily, ignored them. His gaze was directed at the clear, distant sky, seeing not clouds but the terrifying alignment of the stars.
The Star of Vengeance… the Dragon-Born Star… it has been extinguished, but only to be replaced by a new star of unprecedented, destructive light!
He thought, with chilling certainty: A huge, devastating storm will crash upon our Empire. The death of this great warrior—a spirit of immense, powerful destiny—has somehow ignited a new force. I do not know if it is good or bad, but this will definitively affect His Majesty, the current Ruler.
Master Xiao steadied himself, the urgency consuming him. I must inform His Majesty fast. I cannot delay!
He turned to the highest-ranking guard, his voice trembling with a gravity that demanded immediate obedience. "Summon the Royal Guard Commander. Inform His Majesty that the Imperial Master requires an emergency meeting. It is vital. Go now!"
The Guard hesitated, caught between protocol and the Master's terrifying demeanor. "But… Imperial Master. His Majesty is currently busy with of...official matters. Can we go later?" he stammered, knowing that "official matters" often meant the Emperor was indisposed with his concubines.
Master Xiao's eyes blazed with fury, an aura of devastating power radiating from him. "If that man doesn't care for the fate of his Empire, then I will leave! I will abandon this frivolous court to the darkness that is coming! Go now, before the alignment shifts again!"
The guard instantly felt a crippling dread—the Empire could not function without the Master. He bowed deeply, his head touching the ground. "Wa… wait! Wait, Master, I am going now! I beg you, wait!"
The Imperial Guard scrambled out, leaving the Wisest Man of the Century alone in his courtyard, staring at the unseen astrological omens. Master Xiao don't know about the scream he had heard in his mind, the simultaneous rupture in the cosmos, was the death of Gauri and the birth of a long, cold vengeance that would take decades to bloom, but would eventually shake the very foundations of his Great Dynasty.
...
At the exact same time, across the vast Eastern Ocean, in a nation situated on a sprawling island—the Yamato Dynasty—the night sky was completely dark. This large island nation, ruled by the Yamato royal court, was famous for its advanced agricultural methods and sophisticated urban planning. However, it also harbored a hidden, forbidden secret: the presence of elite Shinobis who served the Emperor—assassins revered and feared for their mastery of stealth and killing.
On the tiled rooftop of a large, distinctively structured house, one such Shinobi was resting. His name was Satoru, acknowledged as one of the best assassins in the royal court, currently unwinding after a successful mission to quietly neutralize a treacherous noble.
He was gazing upward, a common habit born of boredom and a silent communion with the night. He noticed the stars—but not the stars themselves. He saw the constellation pattern was wrong. His grandfather, an ancient master of celestial navigation, had passed down the forbidden teachings of fate.
Satoru focused, his deep concentration instantly revealing a pattern unknown to him or any recorded history. The familiar shapes of the Four Holy Beasts—the Azure Dragon, the Vermillion Phoenix, the White Tiger, and the Black Tortoise—were still present, but their dominance was being challenged.
A new constellation had taken shape. It was the majestic, domineering form of an unknown beast—a massive, hulking body with gigantic tusks and a long trunk, like a celestial mammoth or elephant. Its aura, though strange, matched the formidable power of the four primary beasts.
Satoru's thoughts drifted to an old, cherished memory:
"Satoru, you know what my greatest wish is?" his grandfather had asked, years ago, on a rooftop much like this one.
The young Satoru, barely a teenager, had replied, "Um, to be more powerful or knowledgeable?"
His grandfather had laughed gently. "No, my little hawk. It is to witness a great, majestic beast of constellation someday, other than the Four."
"But why?" Young Satoru had pressed.
His grandfather had smiled mysteriously. "Because when it appears, Satoru, the world will be in upheaval. Someone rising will cause a sensation, an event so significant it will change the face of the era."
Satoru sighed, his breath ghosting in the cold air. So, Grandpa, is it coming now? Will it affect us also?
He admired the dominating, terrifying beauty of the new constellation. Should he report this incredible celestial shift to the higher authorities? He immediately dismissed the thought. Nah. They will surely not take it seriously. It is too unbelievable.
He settled back on the cold tile, his fear replaced by a keen, professional anticipation. Let's wait then. Let the world turn.
He began preparing himself, mentally and physically, for the inevitable, world-shaking event his grandfather had predicted—ready to protect his Yamato homeland, whatever the cost. The Shadow had been born in the west, and its cosmic footprint had just registered in the distant east. The great game had begun.