Guardians Of the Ancient Bharat

Ujjwal sat by the riverbank long after the old man had vanished, the parchment heavy in his hand. The cryptic words danced before his eyes, the symbols flickering as if alive. He clenched his fist around it, his mind a whirlpool of questions and half-formed fears.

"Your blood calls to them."

The idea gnawed at him. Why was his blood significant? What had Vasukinandan meant by ties to something ancient? The shadows that had chased him, the power that now stirred within him—it was all connected, but how?

The sound of approaching footsteps jolted him back to the present. He turned to see a young woman walking along the ghat, her movements graceful, her eyes scanning the river with an intensity that seemed out of place. She wore a simple cotton saree, but there was a quiet strength in the way she carried herself.

"Lost something?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

Ujjwal hesitated. "Just… thinking."

She gave a small smile. "Thinking can be dangerous here. The river listens more closely than people realize." Her eyes flicked to his closed hand. "What's that?"

He opened his palm slowly, revealing the parchment. She glanced at it, her expression unreadable, then looked back at him. "You should be careful who you trust. Words like those can bind as easily as they can guide."

"Who are you?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"A friend," she replied. "Or perhaps just a fellow wanderer. My name is Avani." She gestured toward the river. "There's a current beneath what we see, Ujjwal. You've felt it, haven't you?"

The sound of his name on her lips made his pulse quicken. "How do you know me?"

Her smile widened, enigmatic and knowing. "Names have power. The world knows those marked by fate."

Before he could press further, she stepped away, her form blending into the shadows as easily as the old man had. He watched her go, a sense of both familiarity and foreboding settling over him.

---

That night, sleep came reluctantly. His dreams were a tempest of shifting shapes—serpents coiling through darkened skies, a city of gold submerged beneath black waters, and a colossal figure with eyes like burning suns whispering a name that wasn't his own but somehow belonged to him.

When he woke, the echoes of that name lingered in his mind. It was ancient, heavy with meaning, but just out of reach. He sat up, drenched in sweat, the faint glow of dawn filtering through his window.

The parchment lay on his bedside table, untouched but thrumming with a quiet energy. He picked it up, his fingers tracing the symbols.

"The truth lies in the shadows of your name."

A knock on the door made him jump. His mother's voice followed. "Ujjwal, someone's here to see you."

"Who is it?"

She hesitated. "A priest. He says it's urgent."

Ujjwal's heart quickened. He rose slowly, the parchment still clenched in his hand. As he opened the door to step into the unknown, the shadows seemed to breathe around him.