Siya's voice faded into silence as the tale of the immortals came to an end.
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
The air around them felt heavier—as if the very names of the Chiranjeevi had stirred something ancient… something watching.
Maan was the first to break the silence.
"Sister… can we call them? The Chiranjeevi?"
His voice carried both hope and innocence.
Siya looked at him—calm, composed, yet distant.
"When the time comes," she said softly, "they will reveal themselves."
"They already know… what has become of this world."
Maan frowned slightly. "Then why haven't they come yet?"
Siya turned her gaze toward the horizon, where the broken sky shimmered faintly like a fractured dimension.
"Because everything in this universe moves according to time," she replied. "Events unfold only when their moment arrives. Not before. Not after."
Maan absorbed her words quietly.
Then, with renewed curiosity, he asked, "Who is the next Chiranjeevi, Sister?"
A faint spark returned to Siya's eyes.
"King Bali," she began.
"Despite being an Asura king… he was one of the most righteous and generous beings to ever exist."
Her voice deepened, almost reverent.
"When Lord Vishnu took the Vamana avatar, he asked Bali for three steps of land. Bali agreed without hesitation… even when he realized the truth."
"He gave everything."
"His kingdom… his power… and finally, even his own head."
The ground beneath them trembled faintly—as if reacting to the weight of sacrifice.
"Pleased by his devotion," Siya continued, "Lord Vishnu granted him immortality… made him the ruler of the underworld… and promised that he would become Indra in the next cosmic cycle."
"And even now… Vishnu himself stands as his gatekeeper."
Maan whispered, "Even an Asura… can become immortal through dharma…"
Siya nodded.
"That is the balance of creation."
She paused before continuing.
"The next… Maharishi Ved Vyasa."
"The compiler of the Vedas. The author of the Mahabharata… the Puranas… the keeper of knowledge itself."
Her voice carried a strange resonance now.
"He is not just a sage… he is knowledge in living form."
"It is believed… that even now… he resides somewhere hidden—perhaps in the ancient sanctuary of Badarikashram… immersed in eternal meditation."
Maan's eyes widened.
"He's still Here…?"
"Yes," Siya replied. "Waiting… observing… preserving the truth for the next age."
She continued without pause.
"Vibhishana… the brother of Ravana."
Maan tilted his head. "But… he was on the side of good, right?"
Siya smiled faintly.
"Yes. He chose dharma over blood."
"Even while living among darkness… he stood for truth."
"After Ravana's fall, Lord Rama blessed him with long life and the responsibility to rule Lanka with righteousness."
She looked at Maan deeply.
"His immortality is proof… that even in the darkest places… one can choose light."
The wind picked up slightly.
"Kripacharya," she continued.
"The teacher of both Kauravas and Pandavas. A warrior… a scholar… and above all—a neutral observer of dharma."
"He fought in the Mahabharata… yet remained untouched by its corruption."
"His wisdom and penance granted him immortality."
"And in the future… he will become one of the Saptarishis."
Maan whispered, almost to himself, "So… they're all still out there…"
"Yes," Siya said. "Every one of them."
Then her tone softened.
"Rishi Markandeya."
"A child destined to die at sixteen… who defeated death itself."
Maan leaned forward.
"When Yama came to claim his soul… Markandeya clung to the Shivling… chanting the Mahamrityunjaya mantra."
"And then…"
Her eyes gleamed.
"Shiva himself appeared."
"He stopped death."
"He granted Markandeya immortality."
Silence fell again.
"Devotion," Siya said softly, "can rewrite destiny."
Then she paused.
Her expression changed.
"The last… and the most significant…"
"Lord Parashurama."
Even I felt the shift.
"This one," she said, "must be understood differently."
"Because today… is his day."
"Parashurama Jayanti… also known as Akshaya Tritiya."
A strange energy rippled through the surroundings.
"He is not just a warrior," Siya continued. "He is the bridge between ages."
She began narrating.
"The son of Sage Jamadagni and Renuka… born with divine fury."
"When King Kartavirya Arjuna—possessor of a thousand arms—tried to seize the sacred Kamadhenu from his father…"
"Adharma began."
"When Parashurama returned… and saw his father slain…"
Her voice hardened.
"He took an oath."
"To cleanse the Earth."
"He destroyed Kartavirya Arjuna… severed his thousand arms… and ended him."
"And not just him…"
"He wiped out corrupt rulers… twenty-one times over."
The air trembled again.
"But in the end… he gave away everything."
"His land… his power… his victories…"
"All to Sage Kashyapa."
"And retreated… into penance."
Maan whispered, "He's also Here…?"
"Yes," Siya replied.
"He lives in silence… on Mahendra Mountain."
"A watcher."
"A guardian."
"When Kalki is born…"
"He will become his guru."
"He will train him."
"Prepare him… for the final war."
A deep silence followed.
Then Siya stood up.
"Today… we honor him."
Her voice carried command now.
"Andy—clean this place. Bring what I ask."
"Chandan… rice… white flowers… incense… and offerings."
Andy hesitated. "But… sweets? From where?"
Siya looked at him.
"You forget… a city still exists nearby."
"Go."
Without another word, Andy vanished.
Siya turned to us.
"You two… wear white or yellow."
Moments later, everything changed.
The barren ground transformed into a sacred space.
Siya spread a clean cloth on the earth.
At its center… she placed the axe.
The Parashu.
Not just a weapon…
A symbol.
Power and restraint.
Destruction and balance.
When Andy returned, everything was ready.
Siya, now draped in a pure white saree, sat before the altar.
She took sandalwood paste… and gently applied it to the weapon.
Then rice.
Then flowers.
Each movement precise.
Sacred.
Intentional.
The air grew still.
Then she began.
"ॐ ब्रह्मक्षत्राय विद्महे
शक्तिहस्ताय धीमहि
तन्नो रामः प्रचोदयात्"
Her voice echoed far beyond the visible world.
We repeated after her.
Again.
And again.
The chant deepened.
The energy shifted.
Time itself… seemed to pause.
For a moment—
It felt as if somewhere… in the unseen layers of existence—
A warrior had heard them.
Watching.
Waiting.
And perhaps…
Awakening.