The nights in Mahishmati had grown quieter since Rudra's return, as though the very land held its breath in anticipation. While the courtiers and generals marveled at the boy prince's serene demeanor and unmatched wisdom, only a handful knew that his heart was now tethered to a forgotten legacy—one that stirred from the depths of history.
Rudra's days were filled with study and meditation, but his nights were haunted by dreams. Dreams where he walked down corridors carved in stone, illuminated by eternal flames, where whispers of a thousand voices called his name.
The first sign appeared during a casual evening walk with his sister, Ishita. They were in the inner garden, beneath the ancient Vat Vriksha, where many ancestors had meditated. Ishita, bright-eyed and curious, pointed toward a stone lion half-buried in vines.
"Bhaiya, look! There's something glowing in its mouth."
Rudra stepped forward. The lion, long believed to be ornamental, now revealed a faint symbol—a chakra wrapped in flames. The moment Rudra's hand touched it, the garden trembled faintly, and a burst of ancient energy surged into his mind.
He staggered.
In an instant, visions flashed. A temple beneath the palace. A door sealed by prana. A throne not made of stone, but of will.
The vision ended as quickly as it began, but it had confirmed one thing.
The trial was close. Beneath their very feet.
---
That night, Rudra approached the king's court. His father, Suresh Kumar, sat on the throne, speaking with ministers, but paused the moment he saw Rudra enter with a look of calm resolve.
"Father, I seek entry to the chamber beneath the old citadel," Rudra said. "The time has come."
Silence fell upon the court.
Suresh stood slowly. "So... the blood has recognized the call."
He dismissed the court. Only his trusted generals and Vijay Raj remained.
"Long ago," Suresh began, "this palace was built atop the resting place of Kartavirya Arjun's soul. Even Parashurama, after slaying him, could not destroy his essence. It was sealed. Guarded. Waiting."
Vijay Raj added, "The sages say only one who carries the full burden of karma, and the purity of dharma, can walk the path. We believe you're the one."
Rudra nodded. "I understand."
Suresh stepped down from the throne, walked toward a wall behind it, and inserted a golden chakra medallion he always wore. The wall groaned open, revealing stairs that descended into darkness.
"We may not follow you beyond this point," Suresh said. "Once you step into the trial realm, your fate is yours alone."
Rudra turned to them one last time. "Then I shall return not just as your son, but as the worthy heir of Kartavirya Arjun."
And with that, he descended.
---
The passage was long, lined with torches that lit on their own as he passed. At the end was a grand stone door etched with ten arms, each holding a weapon. Beneath them, a simple inscription:
_"The crown is not worn by power, but by purpose."
He placed his palm against the seal. It pulsed with golden light.
The door opened.
And Rudra stepped into the Trial Realm of Kartavirya Arjun.
---
The world inside was vast and ethereal. It was a place outside time. The sky was crimson. Floating islands drifted in the air. The ground beneath his feet felt alive, pulsing with prana.
Then came the voice.
Deep. Majestic. "You who bear my blood, have you come to claim the throne, or understand it?"
Rudra stood tall. "I seek not a throne, but truth."
A figure materialized before him. A glowing avatar of Kartavirya Arjun himself—not in his war form, but as a sage.
"Then you may begin. Three trials await: Will, Compassion, and Sacrifice. Succeed, and you shall awaken what lies within you. Fail, and your spirit will scatter in the winds of eternity."
Rudra bowed. "Let it begin."
The ground beneath him changed, and the First Trial of Will began—a realm where illusions attacked his mind, where past fears returned, and doubts echoed louder than thunder. He was shown lives where he became tyrant, where his power broke the world, where his choices led to ruin.
He fell to his knees. Pain. Confusion. Suffering.
But he remembered his journey. His people. His sister's laughter. His mother's prayers. The guidance of Vijay Raj. The purity of his intent.
And he rose.
"I do not seek power. I seek purpose."
The illusions shattered. The trial passed.
A mark appeared on his hand—a golden flame, signifying triumph.
---
But it was only the beginning.
High above, the soul of Kartavirya Arjun watched in silence, a ghost of a smile forming.
"He may be the one."
---