Darkness.
Not the kind that came with night.
Not the kind behind closed eyes.
This darkness felt… older.
A cold, endless void stretched in every direction, silent enough to make even thought feel distant. There was no sky above, no ground beneath. Only emptiness.
Aryaman walked through it barefoot.
Or maybe drifted.
It was hard to tell.
His breathing sounded strange to him—too loud, too uneven. Each inhale scraped against his throat like something inside him wanted to stop breathing entirely.
How long had he been here?
Minutes?
Hours?
Years?
He couldn't tell.
Then he saw it.
A figure standing far ahead.
Light poured around the man in pale streams, cutting through the void like cracks in reality itself. For a moment, Aryaman almost felt relieved.
Another person.
No… not relief.
Recognition.
The feeling hit him so suddenly that he slowed down.
Why does he feel familiar?
The thought made no sense. Aryaman had never seen this man before. He was sure of it. And yet something deep inside him twisted violently the closer he got.
The figure stepped forward.
The light dimmed.
Shadows peeled away from his body like smoke drifting across water.
Aryaman stopped.
His instincts screamed at him to run.
The man's face remained hidden beneath the darkness, but his eyes—
Crimson.
Not glowing.
Burning.
"Aryaman."
The voice echoed softly through the void.
Calm. Deep.
Dangerous.
Aryaman swallowed.
"...Who are you?"
The man tilted his head slightly, almost amused.
"Does knowing change anything?"
"What is this place?" Aryaman asked quickly. "A dream?"
Silence.
Then—
"We are standing where your fear was born."
A chill crawled up Aryaman's spine.
Before he could step back, steel flashed through the darkness.
His body reacted on instinct.
He stumbled away as something cold sliced past his throat.
Too close.
Way too close.
His pulse exploded.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
The man stared at him for a few quiet seconds.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
It sounded tired.
Like someone remembering a tragedy only he understood.
"Not yet," he said softly.
Aryaman frowned. "Not yet what?"
The crimson eyes met his.
And for the first time in his life—
Aryaman felt genuine fear.
The kind that reached past the body.
Past thought.
Past logic.
"I," the man said, "am your death."
The void trembled.
Aryaman's chest tightened violently.
His legs refused to move.
Questions crashed through his mind one after another.
What does that even mean?
Who is he?
Why does he know my name?
The man turned away slowly.
His figure began dissolving into the light behind him.
"Wait!" Aryaman shouted instinctively. "What answers? What are you talking about?!"
The voice came one last time.
"Seek the Gurukul."
Crack.
The sky shattered.
"Aryaman!"
His eyes snapped open.
Cold sweat clung to his skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared at the wooden ceiling above him.
Morning light filtered through the cracks in the walls.
His mother stood near the doorway holding a brass pot against her hip.
"You plan on sleeping through sunrise?" Nalini asked. "Or should I pour river water on your head again?"
Aryaman blinked a few times.
The dream still clung to him.
Too vivid.
Too real.
His throat felt dry.
"...What kind of dream was that?"
"Hm?" Nalini raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing."
He pushed himself upright slowly.
For some reason, his hands were trembling.