"Fate dictates the ultimate; whatever is ordained is certain to happen. Even the strongest, wisest, and most powerful creatures or people are bound by the constraints of fate." Sage Sukrit's deep blue eyes pierce through the dark clouds; his gaze lingers beyond the constraints of fate and destiny. His lip parted with solemn gravity.

  "The reins of destiny are akin to a sturdy boulder, immovable and unbreakable; yet with action and time, even a gentle stream of water can grind it to dust. No one can remain actionless even for a moment; everyone is helplessly driven to action by the qualities born of material nature. Destiny operates through one's inherent nature, compelling actions. Fate moves us, but it doesn't dictate our path." The Sage continues; his voice pierces the fog of confusion in the prince's mind. Clarity returns to the prince's face.

  "Just like that stream of water, even mortals can shape their pre-defined future against fate to carve a new path through consistent efforts. And you, my dear prince, are no mere mortal. You are bound to be a Chakravartin, a king who has the supreme authority to defeat, conquer, and rule over all living beings in the current four-continent world order. So, stand up and face this adverse moment with the will of the supreme ruler. Let your actions defy your fate." Sage Sukrit's voice echoes through the battlefield. His encouraging words awakened the prince's dormant potential.

  However, the vast shadow of Rāhupā?a descends; its eclipse-maw yawning wide enough to swallow everything. The prince stands firm beneath the darkened sky; wind tears at his cloak, and the ground trembles beneath his feet.

  "I carry the burden of their hopes, expectations, duties, and my will for righteousness. I shall not falter. Even if I am destined to die today, I shall do so with a clear conscience and a righteous heart. I am a son, a prince, a brother, a warrior, but never a coward."

  The prince's faltering gaze turns resolute, and the doubts in his heart vanish. He lifts his head with unwavering determination.

  A bolt of lightning pierces through the sky like a revelation. It strikes the prince's crown, activating his crown chakra. The energy of the divine lightning travels across the prince's spine, temporarily activating all seven chakras. A massive avatar of the Dharma wheel manifests behind the prince.

  "The Eightfold Path Dharma Wheel of the Chakravartin!" Sage Sukrit murmurs, his expression fervent. The glow of the Dharma wheel reflects in his deep blue eyes.

  "The Dharma wheel is the most important symbol of the Chakravartin. It symbolises both secular and spiritual sovereignty; it represents a monarch's ability to lead armies, direct energies, and lord over all living beings. This illusory wheel, with a thousand spokes symbolising the Eightfold Path, is the authority bestowed upon a true monarch by the supreme creator." Sage's Sukrit's eyes turn misty, and he slowly bows his head to the authority of the monarch.

  "The Chakravartin wheel not only conveys power over the material world but also serves as a reminder of the monarch's spiritual path. The Eightfold Path—right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration—is encoded within the spokes of the wheel, symbolising the perfect balance of worldly and spiritual authority."

  "Only when a king portrays these abilities to their fullest will the illusory turn real."

  Darpasura's expression turned ugly as he recognised the Dharma Wheel manifestation behind the prince. From the start, he aimed to nip this Chakravartin seed in the bud, yet he has become the very catalyst that nourished it into a sprout.

  "Haha…" Darpasura's maniacal laughter echoed through the battlefield.

  "Then I shall sever the very fate that carves your Chakravartin path. I would like to see how this Chakravartin seed will bloom without its roots." Darpasura lifts his hand and redirects the Rahupā?a solely towards the Dharma wheel manifestation behind the prince.

  The glow in the massive demonic head's turn even more sinister. Its hungry eyes turn towards the massive Dharma wheel. A manifestation of divine destiny is more appetising and fulfilling than the blood and bone body of a mortal.

  "Don't you dare!" Senapati Jaivardhan roared, his eyes blazing with fury.

  Despite his immense experience and knowledge as a warrior, he had no counter for the Rahupā?a. Rahupā?a was no mere weapon; it was a manifestation of an ancient demonic entity's sentient will. It was a demonic Astra capable of consuming stars, much less the fate of a mortal.

  Such power wasn't meant to be released, as it comes at a significant price. Even then, only a handful of people knew the forbidden ancient chant to summon this demonic Astra, much less its counter Astra, Mohiniastra. And he, Jaivardhan, didn't possess such knowledge.

  Jaivardhan channels his rage and fury into his bow. His eyes burn with righteous indignation, and his lips quiver with divine chant.

  "Om Hraam Hreem Hraum Sah Suryaya Namah…"

  The sky ignites. Golden radiance pours into the arrow as if the sun itself has bent low to listen. The rain around Jaivardhan evaporates instantly, rising in roaring clouds of steam. The bowstring glows white-hot, screaming under his prana's strain, while divine mantras thunder from his lips—clear, unwavering, absolute. The gloominess of the night and darkness fade away as the sun descends on the earth, dispelling the nightmares.

  [Divine Astra—Sūryāstra]

  Jaivardhan releases the bowstring, aiming not for the Rahupā?a but for the Darpasura who released it.

  The Sūryāstra streaks upward, turning into a blazing spear of pure destruction. Daylight is reborn in its wake. Rahu's darkness is driven back violently; dark clouds are torn apart, scorched by the dawn itself. The spear leaves behind a burning path across the skies, a line of fire that splits storm and eclipse alike.

  High above, Darpasura's eyes widened for the first time; yet the grim smile on his face didn't vanish, because he had achieved his purpose. He hastily raises his defence using his remaining prana. The armour beneath his robe glimmers with faint yellow runes, erecting a sturdy barrier of prana around him.

  The solar spear bears down upon him, its radiance searing through Rahu's shadow, unravelling the dense darkness layer by layer.

  The sky erupts in a blinding detonation as the solar spear collides with Darpasura's defences. Shockwaves ripple across the clouds, sunlight flooding the battlefield below. Warriors shield their eyes as heat and radiance wash over them.

  The battlefield is enveloped in endless darkness and divine sunlight. The opposing forces tangle in a tug-of-war. Darkness swallows the light, and the light burns away the shadows.

  However, Jaivardhan pays no heed to the aftermath of the Astra he unleashed. His entire being is focused on the well-being of his prince.

  "Prince Adhiraj!" He lunges in Rahupā?a's path, intent on shielding the prince with his body.

  "Jaivardhana, stop with your recklessness." Sage Sukrit reproaches him.

  "This is a disaster the prince must bear. Every seed weathers the winds and storms, hot and cold, to bloom. Besides, Jaivardhana, you aren't mighty enough to bear such strong karma. Let the prince persevere through this calamity with his own strength."

  "But- but Acharya, what if the prince doesn't make it through!" Jaivardhan hesitates.

  "Then that would imply that the prince wasn't worthy. A chakravartin isn't born in comfort; he is forged in the fires of calamity. Every scar, every burn, every battle nourishes the seed, nurturing it into a tall tree that shelters the world from all storms. A Chakravartin isn't just a title; it's an authority, it's a responsibility bestowed on oneself by the gods. Not everyone is worthy to receive this opportunity, but those who do must live up to its name through their outstanding actions, carving a name in the annals of history." Sage Sukrit's eyes gleam, glancing at the unseen.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Confronting the vast shadow of Rahū, the prince finally smiled- his brilliant laughter echoed.

  "Divine Astra, who said I don't have one!"

  Slowly, deliberately, he reached to his chest.

  His fingers closed around the silver moon necklace, its chain warm against his skin. At its centre hangs a brilliant blue moonstone, flawless and luminous even as the world dims. With a single pull, he tears it free.

  [Divine Astra—Chandrāsru]

  The air changes. The blue moonstone erupts with sorrowful radiance as the prince raises it high. This silver necklace is no mere ornament—it is the Tear of the Moon God, a divine Astra bestowed upon his bloodline, Chandra Vansh, as the descendants of the Moon God. Silver moonlight spills outward from the blue gemstone, enveloping the prince. It carries the moon's mournful sentiments at the loss of his children.

  The Moon's waning presence stirs faintly behind him, its figure peering through the clouds, casting a luminous light.

  The prince clenches the blue moonstone. A faint blue light envelops the prince's arm, strained yet powerful.

  The prince lifts his bow and plucks the bowstring with all his might. His gaze focuses on the centre of the giant demonic head, locking on the black spear, the physical vessel for the demonic weapon.

  With a deep breath, he released the taut bowstring.

  A beam of pure moonlight surges forth from his bow, rising like a silver tide to meet the plunging Rāhupā?a. Light and shadow collide in a cataclysmic clash. The giant demon head shrieks as moonlight pierces its shadowed form, burning through coils of void, tearing chunks of devouring darkness apart.

  The Rahupā?a recoils, its vast body unravelling, from the dual impact of solar and lunar power. Most of its form is torn away and dispersed into the storm. Shattered dark energy rains down like black embers. The sky brightens as the darkness recedes under the glow of the sun and the moon.

  Just as hope was reignited in everyone's heart, something unexpected occurred. The prince staggers back, his hands tremble, and the moon's radiance around him dims. The prince's weak and battle-worn body cannot handle such vast divine power.

  Rahupā?a takes advantage of this opportunity. With a final, furious howl, it surges forward among the barrage of moonlight spears. Its massive body loses its ferocious might, but it still holds its lethal devouring ability.

  The tip of what was once a spear strikes the prince's chest. Dark prana slams into the prince's body, wrapping around him like living chains. The massive demonic head, now reduced to a fraction of its mighty form, bites hard on the illusory dharma wheel. It swallows a huge chunk of the Dharma wheel and vanishes into the void.

  Shadow coils around the prince's body and drags him to the depths of the earth. The silver necklace's light dims, and a crack appears on its surface.

  "Looks like this is the end of my journey!"

  The prince's consciousness turns hazy as he falls to the depths of the dark abyss. Rahū's curse has branded his body. His breathing turns shallow, his limbs turn numb, and darkness crawls across his body, flooding his veins with coldness.

  Above, the remnants of Rahupā?a dissipate, its purpose fulfilled.

  The battlefield falls into horrified silence, broken only by the short-lived laughter of Darpasura.

  The blazing sun spear slams onto Darpasura's armour with inexorable force. Bit by bit, layer by layer, it burns away his defence to drifting motes of ash and light.

  The impact is cataclysmic.

  Divine solar fire detonates outward, turning storm into incandescent vapour. The night sky roars as rays of light explode through Rahu's darkness, tearing a wound in the sky itself. At the centre of that brilliance, Darpasura's body is swallowed by the Sun's spear of judgment.

  It tears through his defence, incinerates his armour and obliterates his left arm, leaving nothing but scorched air and a halo of embers. His divine bow is flung spinning away, its runic glow snuffed out mid-flight. The force hurls him backwards through shattered cloud banks, blood and shadow scattering like burned feathers in the wake of dawn. His body crashes into a distant mountain; his fate is unknown.

  "My prince!" Jaivardhan pays no heed to Darpasura's fate, his being focused on the prince's condition.

  The light of the divine Astra finally recedes, and clouds disperse like ash. The moon has already vanished on the horizon, and the rays of sunlight scatter, welcoming the arrival of dawn.

  The battle raged for three Prahars, lasting through the night until sunrise.

  The enemy army hastily retreats. With both the commander and deputy commander out of commission, there is no one to lead the charge. Having lost their advantage, the rest of the enemy forces tuck their tails and retreat to preserve their lives.

  With the prince's status unknown and Senapati Jaivardhan in a frenzy, the soldiers turn to the middle-aged scholar for further instructions.

  The scholar shook his head to order dismissal. The enemy ambush was planned and coordinated. It was timed perfectly when their guard was lowered. Who knows what other traps the enemy has set for them? So, it won't be wise for them to chase the enemy.

  Besides, the forces on both sides are evenly matched. Any further entanglement will lead to more casualties.

  The captains and vice-captains among the soldiers nod and start tending to their injured subordinates and comrades. They lost quite a few soldiers in this scuffle, and several more were seriously injured.

  The scholars proficient in the healing arts quickly acted, stabilising the situation on the field. While the healers tend to the wounded, Jaivardhan kneels on the ground with lifeless eyes.

  "My prince!" His fists pounded the ground that swallowed the prince. Each strike sends powerful shockwaves that shake the surroundings.

  "It's my fault! I wasn't able to protect the prince. I am a sinner, a sinner of the kingdom!" He pounds the ground with regret and pain. Tears flow from his eyes as he recalls the fond memories of the prince from his birth till his youth.

  He recalls how the empress dowager, Rajmata Rajeshwari, entrusted the prince's tutelage in Shastra Vidya to him. He remembers how the prince, at the frail age of three, picked up a bow and struggled with it. All the memories flood his mind, ready to break the dam of his emotions. Unable to hold back, tears overflowed from his eyes.

  "Jaivardhana!" Sage Sukrit approaches the grief-stricken Jaivardhan and gently pats his shoulder.

  "Acharya!" With teary eyes, Jaivardhan turns to Sukrit.

  "What should I do? The prince… he… he is gone." Tears roll down this fierce general's eyes.

  "With what face should I dare confront the Rajmata? How can I bring myself to relay the news of the death of her elder grandson to her? I can't, Acharya… I can't. I… I don't dare to face her." Jaivardhan's body shook, his eyes moist.

  "Don't give up just yet. The star of Prince's life still shines in the sky. It might be eclipsed for a moment, hidden from eyes, but it's still present. I can sense it." Sage Sukrit's gaze peered through the sky, gazing at a distant constellation.

  "There is still hope!" He consoles Jaivardhan.

  "Acharya, what shall I do next? Please guide me." Senapati Jaivardhan bows his head to the Sage, seeking his guidance.

  "The land is wounded. The clash of divine weapons ruined the harmony of the five elements. The sky is torn, the earth is scorched, water boils into mist, fire rages with fury, and the wind chokes with heat. If left alone, untouched, this place would become a dead scar upon the world, a place where elements are in chaos and life refuses to return. The karma of such a deed will weigh down on the fortune of the empire. The balance must be restored, and to do so, a ceremony is required. Only by appeasing the elemental gods can this place return to its former state, and the heavy karmic sin cleansed." Sage Sukrit instructs the scholars and the soldiers.

  Under the Sage's lead, the middle-aged scholar leads other scholars to mend the battlefield. The battle between the two forces did extensive damage to the surroundings, breaking the balance of the five elements.

  The scholar prepares for the ceremony. Ignoring exhaustion and lingering pain, they spread across the ruined battlefield, forming a wide, deliberate pattern. They kneel, press palms to broken ground, retracing the shattered energy ley-lines. They carve stabilising sigils onto the scorched earth and fractured stones.

  With the soldier's help, the scholar carved a grand Yantra, covering the entirety of the forest.

  [Pancha Mahabhuta Sandhi Yantra]

  After establishing the Yantra, Sage Sukrit performed a Yajna, offering prayers and oblations to the elemental gods. Chants rise—low, layered, rhythmic.

  To Agni, he offers restraint, asking fire to calm down.

  To Varuna, he pleads for balance and a gentle water flow.

  To Vāyu, he calls for calm breath instead of a wrathful gale.

  To Bhūmi, he begs for endurance, urging the land to hold together.

  To ākā?a, he seeks alignment, coaxing prana back into harmony.

  The Yajna lasts for three days and three nights.

  Slowly, painfully slowly, the deities respond.

  Flames dim down. Winds soften, and the fissures in the ground seal with low groans, as if the earth exhales. The air grows easier to breathe. The violent vibration of prana settles into a weary hum.

  The battlefield remains scarred, but nature is no longer dying.

  Rain falls again, this time gently, washing embers and blood from broken leaves. Moonlight touches the soil, nourishing it gently. Finally, the sun shines its radiance, burning away the filth and evil.

  Far below the ground, the black curse from Rahu seeps out; it recoils in fear, hissing as sunlight lances through it, purifying its evil energy.

  The scholars finally collapsed from exhaustion. Having fulfilled their duty, the burden and tension from their shoulders vanish.

  After the ceremony ends, Jaivardhan's grim expression returns. The prince is still missing.

  He turns to his soldiers and orders.

  "Search for the prince's whereabouts, leave no stone unturned and no corner unexplored." His order thunders like a commandment.

  "In the name of Jaivardhana, I pledge that I shall not return to the kingdom until I return the prince to his rightful place."