The winds were calmer around the hut. A few clouds lingered here and there, but the sky was otherwise clear. The sun was bidding farewell, casting a radiant red hue across the canvas of fading blue.
Aditi was picking berries nearby. The berries carried the same shade of red as the sky above. A bird was sitting on a slender plant, and Aditi, entranced by its stillness and beauty, began to chase after it. She didn't notice when her steps took her beyond the invisible boundary — outside the area where the master had cast a protection shield spell to keep away monsters, people, and other unwanted beings.
By the time she realised something was wrong, she heard noises emerging from the bushes. She looked around and found herself in the dense shadows of a dark forest. She hadn't gone too far from the hidden place, but far enough to be unprotected. Her body stood frozen. Her eyes remained locked on the trembling leaves. Her mind was racing, but all she could hear inside was a quiet, desperate voice repeating, "Please be a rabbit. Please be a rabbit."
But it wasn't a rabbit.
It was a monster — a Pishacha — a creature feared for its thirst for blood, known for its obsession with human flesh. Aditi stood paralyzed, as though a curse had gripped her limbs. Her tongue refused to move. Her thoughts were blank. She had surrendered to death before it even touched her.
The Pishacha started running towards her. She closed her eyes, silently accepting the end.
When she opened them, Rishabh was standing before her. His sword was drawn, and blood was dripping from its edge. The lifeless body of the monster lay on the ground behind him. He had killed it.
Aditi could breathe again. Her voice returned, and she immediately whispered a prayer of gratitude to God Tuhindra. As she turned to thank Rishabh, her words caught in her throat. He collapsed to the ground. The venom of the Pishacha had reached him.
The master and Ashoka arrived at that moment, having followed the sound of the struggle. Without hesitation, Ashoka lifted Rishabh in his arms and carried him swiftly back to the hut. The master and Aditi began preparing a potion, working in urgency to counter the effects of the venom.
"Master, will he be alright?" Aditi asked. Her voice trembled, and her eyes were filled with guilt.
"He will be fine," the master replied. "He fainted from the venom, but the Pishacha only managed to scratch his arm. The wound is not deep. It isn't enough to cause lasting harm. He will recover soon."
Aditi took a slow, deep breath. Death had brushed past her today — or rather, Rishabh had pulled her away from its grip.
The master turned his gaze to her. His eyes carried anger, but beneath it was something else. "What were you doing there?"
Before she could answer, he continued, his voice growing firmer. "This world is not kind. A naive soul cannot survive here. You are being trained to save lives — that is true — but it is just as important to protect your own. That is a responsibility too. Do not treat it lightly."
In that moment, Aditi realised it wasn't just anger that had filled his voice — it was concern, deep and personal. She lowered her head and gave him a promise. She would never forget this lesson.
Later in the evening, the master sat quietly inside the hut. A few oil lamps flickered in the corners of the room, casting a warm and steady light. His students were seated around him, silent and attentive. The master's voice carried the calm of someone who had seen too much and forgotten very little.
"Before creation," he began, "there was only darkness. Everything was covered in it. It was a formless, endless void, drifting with no shape, no boundaries, no identity. Then, in that nothingness, there came a realisation — and the first question was asked: 'Who am I?'
'What am I doing?' But the being who asked had no answer. It kept drifting. Still, that single moment of awareness had created something. A seed of feeling was born.
The being felt alone. And from that feeling, it created heat. The heat grew and grew, until it could no longer contain itself. Then there was an explosion — and from that explosion, time was born.
After time, there came the souls — fragments of that being itself. They erupted from within, the way fruit erupts from a blooming tree. And once the souls were set free, the being shed its remaining attributes and returned to infinite peace.
Many of those souls carried with them the power of the infinite one. But not all of them could bear it. Some were consumed by that power — and from them, pride erupted. They began to call themselves creators. They found universes, and they started to rule.
But for some, even one universe was not enough. Greed followed pride. And that greed gave birth to war — a war between the beings we now call gods.
And in that war, one being emerged victorious — with the help of his alliance…"
Before the master could continue, he was interrupted by a voice from the doorway.
"That's interesting," Rishabh said. "That's not the story we're told by the priests. Everyone believes that God Tuhindra created everything. If they heard this version, they'd feel betrayed. You're calling the belief of millions a lie."
He took a breath before continuing. "They call you a madman in the city. Maybe they're right. Maybe not. But my mother once told me you were the only one who could answer my questions. And I still believe her."
"You're not fully healed yet," Aditi said. Her voice was calm, but concern lingered in every word. "You should rest. This conversation can happen later. The master isn't going anywhere."
"I'm fine," Rishabh replied. His tone was steady and sure. "The pain is gone. I'm here for answers."
His voice carried a sense of pride that was hard to miss. Aditi's face turned slightly, and a shadow passed over her expression. There was disappointment in her eyes, maybe even something sharper, but she held her silence.
The master looked at Rishabh, his tone shifting. "Very well. But before I answer your question, I need to ask one myself. How did you find me? Was it Arjuna who discovered this place? And what happened to him?"
For the first time, Rishabh's expression broke.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "I thought it was you who found us. We weren't even looking for you."