Chapter 12: The Raging Kalindi
Harsha hit the atmosphere like a stone skipped violently across a frozen pond, tumbling through freezing rain. Beneath him, his flight bird thrashed against the violent storm currents, its backside a blackened, smoldering ruin from the Asura lightning strikes. Enduring agony, the beast guided them away from a fatal vertical crash and struck the muddy slope of the riverbank, sliding forcefully across the slick earth.
The impact threw Harsha hard. He skidded down the treacherous incline, coming to a halt just inches from the roaring, white-crested tides of the Kalindi River. His arm remained locked like an iron band around the lotus basket. With trembling fingers, he peeled back a glowing petal. The infant was safe inside the divine warmth, blissfully unaware of the blood staining the world outside.
Harsha tried to push himself up, but a white-hot spike of agony pinned him down. Mihirkul's jagged dagger was transfixed straight through his right palm. Gritting his teeth, he withdrew the weapon inch by inch and hurled it into the mud. But the damage was done. The anti-god dark matter was already unraveling his life force, turning his blood to heavy lead.
A weak, fractured chirp pulled him back from the edge of consciousness. Harsha dragged his broken body toward his dying companion. He wanted to heal the beast, but the dagger had shattered the sacred divine stone embedded within his palm. His celestial power was completely gone.
"Thank you for everything, my friend, you have always stood by my side, but unfortunately I can't do anything for you when it was my turn." Harsha whispered, cradling the bird's heavy head. Mustering his final fading soul essence, he sparked a single golden ember at his fingertip and stroked the bird's forehead. "But... I can at least take away your suffering."
The agonizing tension left the creature's body. It looked at Harsha one final time with intelligent, grateful eyes, before closing them forever, shrinking back to its modest, normal bird size.
Tears flowing unchecked, Harsha gently wrapped his companion in his cloak and placed it into the churning current as a final funeral rite.
His legs were failing, his divine stone was destroyed, and the poison was creeping up his arm. He couldn't walk, but the bloated monsoon river was raging furiously toward the exact valley where Nandvarman dwelt.
A grim smile touched his lips. "Destiny hasn't left a single choice in my favor."
With a final surge of strength, Harsha hauled himself upright. He placed the lotus-weave basket carefully onto his head, balancing the entire future of creation. He took a final step, forcing his failing limbs directly into the violent torrent. The icy water screamed against his open wounds, but he went numb, letting the treacherous current sweep his body away into the dark depths.
The roar of a Royal Enfield Bullet motorcycle tore through the storm. Nand leaned into the wind along the riverside road, his eyes desperately searching the dark water, guided by a lingering instinct.
After nearly an hour of pushing through the relentless monsoon, Nandvarman saw exactly what he had been searching for. A dark silhouette was rising out of the churning waters like a ghost manifesting from the mist.
Nand slammed on the brakes, the heavy motorcycle skidding sideways on the wet gravel. He leapt off instantly, leaving the engine idling as he sprinted desperately down the steep bank toward the shoreline.
Wading out of the treacherous pull of the river was Harsha, his knuckles white as he clutched the precious lotus basket. As the distance closed, Harsha tilted his face upward, letting the freezing downpour wash the soot and river mud from his gaunt features.
The space between them vanished. They came to a halt barely five feet apart, instant recognition flashing in their eyes despite the years of separation.
"Harsha?" Nand's voice broke.
"Nand..." Harsha breathed, stepping into a crushing embrace. For a brief moment, the white-hot agony in his veins faded as he surrendered his weight to the only man he trusted.
Nand pulled away, horror dawning as he saw fresh blood welling from his friend's hand. "Harsha, what is happening? Why you came here? Is Devlok in crisis? And why does it look like you are fading away. And what is this in your arms?"
Harsha gasped, blood staining his lips. "I wanted to tell you many things, but for now just hear only this. Time is a luxury we no longer possess. Devlok is drowning in fire. The Asuras have unleashed a reign of absolute terror." He gently peeled back a single lotus petal. "There was nowhere left to protect him in all over the Devlok. This is the Seventh Avatar. My own son."
Nand's face softened with profound reverence. "Blessed are you, Harsha. The Creator has chosen your bloodline to manifest His divine essence."
"The prophecies named him the doom of Torman before his first breath," Harsha said, thrusting the basket forward. "The Asuras are hunting him everywhere. This is the only place left in all over the realms still shielded from the direct wrath of the asura's reach. I have come to entrust him to you. Guard him, Nand. There is no soul, i trust more than yours to Keep the soul of Devlok alive."
Fierce loyalty crossed Nand's face as his steady hands took the sacred burden. "How dare you speak to me of trust as if I am a stranger? I may have walked away from the spires of Devlok, but I never walked away from my duty. This child is no longer just your son. He is mine now, too. I will raise him as my own blood."
Harsha smiled weakly, his grip loosening as the anti-god poison finally reached the core of his heart. "Take care of him, Nand. You are carrying the future of all three realms. We... we likely won't see each other again in this cycle of life. So from this breath onward, forget he was ever mine."
Panic flared in Nand's chest. "What are you saying, Harsha? Please stay with me! We can fight this together!"
"Fate demands a sacrifice, Nand," Harsha whispered, his vision clouding as the black poison reached his eyes. "And it seems the first tithe is mine to pay. Just remember me in your thoughts"
With a slow, deliberate movement, Harsha stepped back toward the edge of the river, the loose mud slipping beneath his boots.
"Where are you going?" Nand lunged forward, his hands trembling. "Please, Harsha, come back! The current is too strong!"
Desperate, Nand thrust his right hand forward to summon a protective shield, but nothing happened. The air remained dead. He frantically reached for his pockets, realization hitting him like a physical blow—in his rush to ride out into the storm, he had left his celestial stone behind on his desk. He was completely powerless.
Nand pleaded, his voice cracking violently, but Harsha remained entirely unmoved. A serene numbness had washed over the dying warrior, rendering him deaf to his old friend's cries.
Harsha didn't try to fight the water. He simply let the Kalindi take him, surrendering his broken body to the current. Within seconds, his dark silhouette dissolved into the white foam and screaming rain.
He was gone. Left behind on the sodden bank was Nandvarman, soaked to the bone and completely alone, holding the fragile future of the universe inside a basket of glowing lotus petals.