Episode 3: Bloodlines and Firelight
The portal closed behind him with a whisper, like a curtain falling at the end of a scene.
And Vikramaditya—Vikky—was no longer in his world.
He stumbled slightly, blinking against the sudden brightness. The air felt crisper, the sky an impossible shade of blue. Massive trees towered on either side of him, ancient and humming softly, as if alive.
“This…” he began, but the words caught in his throat.
Karthikeya stood beside him, looking perfectly at home in this strange realm.
“Welcome to Karuna Lokam,” he said. “The realm between worlds. The beginning of everything—and the end of many things.”
They walked for hours.
Over rivers as clear as glass. Through forests that shimmered gold under the sun. Past mountains that looked carved from forgotten gods.
Vikky was silent most of the way, taking it all in. But inside, his mind was racing.
His mother was alive. She had sent this man. She had left him, but not by choice.
And now, he was here—somewhere not even dreams dared to go.
By nightfall, they reached a quiet meadow tucked between two granite hills. A fire crackled gently beside a small camp set up under a canopy of stars.
They sat in silence, the flames dancing between them.
Finally, Karthikeya spoke.
“You must have questions.”
Vikky looked up. His voice was quiet, but sharp.
“Why now? Why me?”
Karthikeya didn’t hesitate. “Because you are not just her son. You are his descendant too—Vikramaditya, the warrior who was blessed by the gods. His power runs through your veins.”
“And Kaskira?” Vikky asked. “That monster… he’s after her?”
Karthikeya nodded. “He’s after all of us. But mostly her. She’s the key.”
Vikky stared into the fire. A memory returned—his mother’s voice, singing to him as a child. A lullaby. A warmth that had long faded.
“I thought she left me…” he whispered.
Karthikeya’s expression softened. “She never stopped watching. She never stopped loving you.”
Silence fell again.
Then, something shifted.
Vikky reached into his bag and pulled out an old photograph—a worn image of a woman in royal robes, smiling faintly.
Kundana Devi.
He held it in both hands, his eyes glassy. Quietly, he leaned forward, pressed the photo to his chest, and closed his eyes.
The warrior said nothing.
But in that moment, with the firelight flickering and grief folded in his heartbeat, a tiny spark lit within Vikky.
Unseen. But growing.
That night, he dreamed again.
But this time, the dream didn’t begin in fear.
It began with laughter.
Vishala’s laughter.
He was on their terrace again. She was teasing him about his bedhead, sipping from a cup of tea, her eyes glinting in the sun.
“I miss you when you’re quiet,” she said.
“I miss ME too,” he had replied with a grin.
She touched his arm and leaned in, close, warm.
Then… thunder cracked across the sky. The light changed.
She was pulled away from him, vanishing into mist.
He shouted her name, reaching—but the world crumbled around him.
Vikky jolted awake, heart racing.
Karthikeya was already up, sharpening a long blade.
Vikky sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “She’s in danger too,” he murmured.
Karthikeya looked over. “Who?”
“Someone I love.”
The warrior said nothing at first. Then: “Love is your strength. Let it stay that way.”
He handed Vikky a short wooden staff.
“Time to begin.”
They trained all day.
Vikky fell, stumbled, cursed—but got up every time. Karthikeya’s teachings were sharp and unrelenting, like lightning trying to tame a storm.
By sundown, bruised and breathless, Vikky sat alone on a rock facing a waterfall.
The sound of water calmed the chaos in his mind.
He closed his eyes. Focused.
Inside his chest, he felt it again.
A flicker. A flame.
Not fear.
Not rage.
But purpose.
In the shadow of ancient trees, Karthikeya watched from a distance.
A small smile touched his lips.
“He’s waking up,” he whispered. “Just like she said he would.”
To be continued…