The vision ended like a blade being pulled from his chest.
Slow. Wet. Leaving something hollow behind.
Veda's eyes snapped open.
And his body gave out.
The weight of everything he had seen, the birth of worlds, the death of gods, the screaming truth of existence, crashed down on his shoulders like a falling mountain. His arms buckled. His legs turned to water.
He fell sideways, his back slamming against the cracked wall. Papers scattered around him. His head lolled forward. Blood dripped from his nose, warm, thick, and relentless, painting red dots across the white sheets beneath him.
Breathe.
He forced air into his lungs. Each breath was a war. Shallow. Ragged. His chest felt like someone had punched through his ribs.
Breathe.
His vision swam. The room tilted. The symbols on the walls crawled and blurred.
And there, floating above the floor, was Young Veda.
Glowing faintly. His feet not touching the ground. That ancient smile on his face.
Veda watched him. Like a hunter. Gray eyes half-lidded but sharp.
"What... what I just saw?" Veda's voice came out cracked.
Young Veda floated closer. His smile did not waver.
"Yes, child. You saw the truth of this reality."
Veda wiped blood from his nose. He stared at the younger version of himself.
"I saw everything."
Young Veda said nothing. He just smiled. That timeless, patient smile.
Silence hung between them.
Then Veda asked, "So what are you?"
Young Veda tilted his head. His eyes flickered. Darkness moved behind the gray.
"I am you," he said. Calm. Simple. Like stating the weather.
Veda's jaw tightened. He did not look away.
Young Veda drifted to the wooden table. He traced the dried blood spelling HEAVEN.
"You want to know about the boy who owned this body, child?"
Veda said nothing. But his eyes said yes.
"This world," Young Veda began, his voice like grinding stone, "is ruled by the strong. The strong get everything. Wealth. Glory. Success. In this world, only power talks. And the weak? The weak blow down like dry leaves in a storm."
He turned. His face held no cruelty. Only truth.
"The boy knew this. He was naive, yes. But not stupid. The world gave him knowledge. He thought knowledge was enough. He studied. He learned. He reached into the Void with a mind sharp as a blade."
Young Veda paused. His smile faded.
"His mind was strong. But his inside, his soul, his core, the thing that holds a person together when the universe pushes back, was weak. Too weak to handle the power he tried to grasp."
He tapped his chest.
"The moment we touched, he crumbled. His soul got consumed. Pulled into me like water into sand. He is in there now. Somewhere. Lost."
Veda stared. He said nothing.
"I do not remember the time anymore," Young Veda continued, floating closer. "How long I drifted in that dark place. Watching souls pass like dead leaves on a black river. No one ever reached for me. No one ever tried."
He laughed. Hollow. Ancient.
"Then that naive boy showed up. And I thought, finally. Finally I am getting out. But he failed. And I thought, again. I am stuck here again."
He stopped inches from Veda's face.
"Then you fell."
Veda's hunter eyes never blinked.
"Your soul entered this body. It did not break. It did not get consumed. It fit. Like this body was made for you."
Young Veda smiled again, warm, bright, like bells in an empty temple.
"You freed me, Veda Das."
"I don't care," Veda said flatly.
Young Veda laughed. "Direct. I like that."
He floated backward. He spread his arms.
"You are here because the Cosmic Law chose you. To kill the Heavenly Lord. To become the next ruler of this broken world."
Veda watched him float. "What kind of soul are you?"
Young Veda stopped. He turned slowly. His gray eyes flickered with something vast.
"The black one," he repeated. Then his voice dropped to a confident hum. "I know everything, child. I am one of the strongest souls that has ever existed. With my knowledge I will make you the strongest and we will defeat the Heavenly Lord."
He extended his hand.
"Join me. Let's become the Absolute."
Veda opened his mouth to say something.
The door creaked.
Both turned.
A voice came through. Soft. Gentle. Sweet.
"Wake up, beta. You will be late for college."
Veda's heart stopped.
That voice. He had buried it thirteen years ago. He had carried it in his chest like a dead bird. He heard it in his dreams every night.
His mother's voice.
The door opened wider. Light spilled in, warm, golden, alive. It pushed back the shadows.
A woman stepped inside.
Young. Beautiful. Black hair falling past her shoulders. No gray. No wrinkles. No lines carved by hunger.
She wore a yellow sari. The one she saved for festivals. The one she wore to his wedding. The one she was buried in.
"Veda?" She looked around. At the papers everywhere. At the blood on his shirt. Her eyes went wide. Her hands flew to her mouth.
"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Her voice cracked. Tears already forming. "Why are you bleeding?! WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!"
Veda pushed himself up. His legs shook. Blood still trickled from his nose. But he stood.
He stood because she was there.
"Maa..."
The word came out small. Broken. A child's word.
She ran to him. She grabbed his face in both hands. Her hands were shaking. Warm. Wet with her own tears.
"Beta, talk to me! Look at you, blood everywhere! Your nose, your clothes..." She was crying now, hard, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I was calling you from the kitchen. You didn't answer. I got scared. I got so scared, Veda!"
She pulled his face close, examining the blood, the bruises that weren't there but she saw anyway because a mother always sees wounds.
"Who did this? Was it those boys from the market? I will go to their houses. I will..." Her voice broke into a sob. "You are all I have, beta. All I have."
Veda looked at her face. The small mole beside her left eye. The way her eyebrows drew together when she worried. The same face he had seen cold and still on that cot.
She was alive.
Crying.
Touching him.
The tears came. Ugly. Loud. Tearing out of his chest.
He lunged forward. He wrapped his arms around her. He held her so tight she gasped.
His face buried in her shoulder. The smell of her. Coconut oil. Jasmine.
"I am sorry," he choked out. "I am sorry I left. I am sorry I did not come back. I am sorry you died alone."
She froze. Then she held him tighter. Crying harder.
"What are you saying?! I am not dead! I am right here! Look at me, Veda. I am right here!" Her voice was high, desperate, breaking. "Please, beta, you are scaring me! Please stop crying! Please!"
He could not explain. He just held her. Sobbing like the seventeen-year-old boy who had walked out that door.
His mother rocked him. Back and forth. Her tears falling into his hair.
"I am here," she whispered between sobs. "I am not going anywhere. I promise. I promise, beta. Just breathe. Just breathe with me."
Veda's legs gave out. They sank to the floor together. Him curled in her lap. Her arms wrapped around him like a shield.
"Shh, shh, shh," she cried, stroking his hair. "Everything will be alright. Maa is here. Maa is always here."
Her voice cracked on the word always.
Veda wanted to tell her everything. About Gita. About the baby. About the finger in the freezer. About the rooftop and the fall.
But his mouth would not work.
His eyes would not focus.
"Veda?" Her voice came from far away. "VEDA! Wake up! WAKE UP!"
He saw her face. Blurry. Tears streaming. Mouth open in a scream.
"VEDAA VEDAA"
He smiled. Just a little.
Then closed his eyes.
Her screams filled the room.
In the corner, Young Veda floated silently.
He watched the woman, Veda's mother, hold her son's limp body. He watched her shake him. He watched her press her forehead to his chest and sob.
He watched her beg. Plead. Scream his name until her voice cracked and died.
He did not move.
He did not speak.
He did not smile.
His ancient face was still. Silent. His gray eyes held no judgment, no amusement, no pity.
Just... watching.
The woman could not see him. She never would.
She was just a mother holding her bleeding son in a room full of papers and blood and secrets she would never understand.
Young Veda looked at them, the woman crying, the man unconscious, and said nothing.
His arms hung at his sides.
His feet still floated above the floor.
He simply looked.
Patient.
Timeless.
Waiting.