Chapter 1

Not another sleepless night,” Dhruv muttered. He dropped onto the lumpy straw mattress. Although it served as his bed, it felt more like a punishment to him. Sweat and grime had stained it. A reminder of his long days in Kirita’s market.

During the day, he lived as a street rat, scavenging for scraps and avoiding the watchful eyes of the guards. Each night, he hoped for a change, for a chance to escape the cycle and support his mother, Kamala. She worked as a maid for a wealthy merchant in the city.

Shadows stretched in their hut as the sun set. But the heat? It stayed there, sticky, like a second skin he couldn’t peel off.

Dhruv sighed. His body ached, and his mind raced. Another night of tossing and turning. Another day of the same tomorrow. He closed his eyes. The children were playing loudly in the street, and the shouts echoed in his head. He had grown accustomed to the stench, accepting it as an inescapable part of his daily life.

Sleep wouldn’t come easy. Not tonight. Not ever.

Kamala stepped inside, and her bare feet brushed the packed earth floor. The pot of water on her hip looked heavy. Her husband’s death in the war with Athiratha a decade ago had weighed heavily on her. Life had been hard since then.

Even with the burden, she moved with grace. Her sari clung to her body, hinting at the soft curves she once had. Her beauty captivated the neighborhood. Now, though, her eyes told a different story. Tired. But still warm. Their small home was a single room with a kitchen and water in one corner, and his bed lay in another corner by the window. The streetlights and candles could illuminate even the most obscure corners.

Kamala set the pot down near the main door. The mother and son belonged to the lower strata of society. She raised her son alone for the last ten years. He was a little boy of ten when her husband passed, but she didn’t complain. Not once. Her love for her son guided her through the challenges of single parenthood. She needs to be strong for her son, and Dhruv was everything to her.

“Ma,” Dhruv called out from his bed, his voice tired. “The kids are at it again.” He pointed outside, where the street kids were laughing and shouting. The noise was loud. Too loud.

She chuckled softly. The pot in her hands landed on the table with a quiet thud. “They’re just playing, Beta,” she said. Her voice was calm. “You used to be one of them.Dhruv sighed again and stood up from his bed. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the chaos. The kids ran in circles, their bare feet kicking up dust. He remembered those days. He used to enjoy freedom and fun when he was a child. However, the war claimed his father’s life. His father was a soldier in the King’s army, and they lived a happy life.

But now? It just felt like noise. The King’s declaration of assistance for the families of fallen soldiers fell short of expectations. There were many rumors that the royal minister siphoned off the funds.

Kamala wiped her hands. “Let them be,” she said. “They’re just kids; you used to be one of them.Dhruv didn’t answer. He just stared. The kids were loud, yes. But they were full of energy and full of life. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Kamala stepped closer to her son. Her hand reached out, brushing his sweaty forehead. Her touch was soft, gentle, and almost like a prayer.

Dhruv felt a pang of guilt. Despite being the head of the household now, he continued to whine like a child as his mother tirelessly worked to keep them safe from the streets.

He picked the pot from the entrance door and poured the water in the clay jar.

“Ma, you should rest,” he said as he drank the lukewarm water. “I’ll do better,” he whispered. Not to her, but to himself.

She didn’t reply. Just smiled. A small, tired smile.

Kamala turned to leave him at the door and enter the house. The flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced across her figure. Dhruv’s eyes lingered for a moment. He felt something stir inside him—a feeling he didn’t want to name. It was familiar, yet strange. Wrong.

He had always thought his mother was beautiful. But this? This was different. A thought he had buried deep. A thought he shouldn’t have. His gaze snapped away. He couldn’t disrespect her. Not like this.

Dhruv clenched his fists. The room felt small and the air heavier. He took a deep breath and focused his eyes on the floor. And the thought? It didn’t leave. After the meager meal, Dhruv lay on his bed, and his mother slept on the floor in the small room.

It was the middle of the night, but he couldn’t sleep. His thoughts were heavy, and sweat was sticking to his back. He thought of a life far from the streets. A life where he could give his mother everything. A life of wealth and power. As the man of the house, he needed to protect and support her.

As he saw her sleeping deeply on the floor, soft whispers came into his mind. They pulled him in a different direction. A dangerous one. He imagined her sweetness and softness. The way she might feel against him. It was wrong. He knew it. But the craving grew stronger and hotter between dreams of a better life ... and the pull of something darker. He couldn’t control what’s happening in his mind. Until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. As his thoughts spiraled, his body burned.

Dhruv reached for the knot of his loincloth with a trembling hand. His fingers trembled as they untied the fabric. His cock exposed and hard. Slowly his fingers moved around the girth of his cock.

He saw his mother facing the other side. His mind wandered as he thought of his mother. She is strong; even in the hardest times, she carried on with dignity. She never wavered in her smile and love for him. Though he never asked how old she was, she looked like she was in her mid-forties. His friends used to tease him about how he was lucky to have such a beautiful mother.

He believed her beauty only ripened as the years passed. Her caramel skin exuded a glow akin to that of a thousand candles. Her brown eyes with dark lashes are almost almond-shaped. Her long black hair waved like a flowing river to her mid-back. Her figure is a testament to the goddess Urvi herself. She had ample breasts and curves that defy gravity. Her narrow waist with generous hips swayed like that of a dancer. She had toned legs and thick thighs because of her hard work.

Dhruv’s strokes grew urgent, and his breath quickened. Though he never slept with any woman, he imagined how it would be with her. Her back was inviting, but he chose to remain in his bed.

As the roughness of the straw mattress scratched his skin, it never seemed to be a problem anymore. He envisioned his mother’s soft, inviting flesh beneath him with her legs parted, allowing him to enter her sacred temple. His breath quickened, and his hand moved faster. In his mind, the room felt much smaller than it is, making the distance between him and his mother negligible, and their bodies twisted together.

The image burned in his mind and pushed him over the edge. His cock spat out cum, filling his hands and spilling over his cloth. His breath softened, and in silence he cleaned his cock and hands. His body felt cold, but his heart was still racing.

The sound of his mother’s soft snore brought him back to reality. He covered himself hastily. His cheeks flushed with a mix of guilt and arousal.

Quiet again, Dhruv stared at the ceiling. What did he do? He didn’t know. But one thing was clear—nothing felt the same anymore.

Dhruv woke up early the next day. His mind was a mess, filled with shame from the previous night, but it drove him to protect and support his mother by any means necessary. It was a hot and sticky day. The kind of heat that made you wish for a shade, any shade.

With no luck with the crowd to pick some pockets, Dhruv sat nearby a vegetable vendor. As the voices in the crowd rose and fell, Dhruv considered stealing a few vegetables for the day. He looked around for guards. He noticed a stranger standing at the edge of the market.

The stranger was watching him, his every move. His eyes? His eyes were sharp, as if they were on the lookout for something or someone.

Dhruv froze.

The man’s presence was unsettling. It made Dhruv’s skin prickle with fear. The man didn’t move and didn’t speak to anyone. He just watched.

And Dhruv? He couldn’t look away.

The mysterious figure was tall and lean. He didn’t belong here—not among the common folk. Though his robes were dusty, the fabric was expensive and carried the faint scent of wealth.

Dhruv felt a strange pull toward the man. The man meant the power and pleasure he has been chasing. His heart raced. Who is this man?

He took a deep breath. His heart pounded like a drum. Mustering all his courage, he took a step toward the man that felt heavier than the last.

Excuse me,” he said, as it barely came out.

The stranger turned, and their eyes met. Dhruv froze. The man’s face—older, rougher.

Who are you...? “The words tumbled out, clumsy and rushed.

There was a silence that stretched longer than an hour; the man’s expression shifted. The confusion in his face changed to something softer.

“My name is Vrik,” the man replied.

“You don’t look like you are from here. What are you looking for?”Dhruv asked tentatively,

“No, boy. I’m from north of Kirita. I was in the King’s army. I’m here looking for the family of Dharya. He had a wife, Kamala. Their son must be roughly the same age,” Vrik said softly.

Dhruv froze when the words reached his ears. The names Dharya and Kamala hung in the air, heavy and unavoidable. The names of his parents.

I’ve been searching for them,” Vrik continued. “Dharya was my subordinate in the army; he sacrificed to save my life.Dhruv’s chest tightened. Questions bubbled up. But for now, he just stood there, silent and staring at Vrik. It felt like a lifeline.

Do you know them? “I need to deliver something to the family,” Vrik said.

Dhruv felt like a lifeline had come to him. After hearing about his father’s sacrifice, in that moment, everything changed.

My name is Dhruv; I’m Dharya’s son. My mother is Kamala,” he said, as his eyes teared up.

Vrik smiled back, “Thank goddess, I thought I would have to search for a long time.Vrik pulled Dhruv into an embrace, and the moment felt healing.

“Come,” Dhruv said gently, “Let’s go to my house. My mother will want to see you.”

Dhruv walked ahead, leading the way. His heart was pounding with excitement and anticipation. He felt every step was like a leap toward his better future. Many questions buzzed, but he knew the answers would come soon.

They reached their neighborhood and the small hovel. Dhruv’s mother, Kamala, stepped out. Her eyes widened. Dhruv was with a man she had never seen in her life. There was a brief silence before Dhruv introduced his mother to Vrik. Kamala offered the man some water, and Dhruv brought a wooden foldable cot for him to sit on outside the house. The mother and son sat on the wooden log opposite him that functioned as a sofa. The space was small and livable, lacking a roof. Dhruv sometimes sleeps in the cot outside the house.

After pleasantries, Vrik began, “Your husband was a great man. I fought alongside him in the last war against the Athiratha. He was under command, and he was a good fighter. During our final push toward the enemy, he sacrificed his life to save mine. Kamala and Dhruv listened to him intently.

“In his dying breath, he made me promise to give you his earnings. After our victory, the general stationed us in the mountains for two years, fearing a new assault. However, I had to return to my village to attend to certain matters first. I have been unable to travel to the city for all these years. Vrik continued, as he took a pouch from his pocket, “Here, take this. It’s yours.” He offered it to Kamala.

The duo’s eyes widened as they received the pouch full of coins. Even though it was small, it will help them financially next year.

Thank you very much. After all these years, you have kept your promise,” Dhruv said with a smile.

“It is my duty,” Vrik replied.

Kamala offered some food and a stay for the night, and Vrik agreed. Despite appearing to come from a wealthy noble family, Vrik never hesitated to stay at their modest home.

With some of the coins, Dhruv went to purchase some groceries for the guest, and Kamala started preparing rotis and dal. They were willing to offer a fine meal for the guest.

As the sun dipped low, Dhruv offered some fruit to Vrik, who was staring at the alleyways and lost in thought. “Dhruv,” he began. His voice carried weight. “What will you do for a better life for your mother?Anything,” Dhruv replied strongly.

“I can offer you something: a better life with wealth and status. It is a life that surpasses your wildest dreams.Dhruv froze and contemplated, A better life? It seemed too fantastical to be real.

The seriousness in Vrik’s face carried a weight Dhruv couldn’t ignore. What would it mean to say yes?

And then ... silence. Vrik waited, observing Dhruv’s eyes as they pondered.

Dhruv nodded eagerly, and Vrik began to share his story.

Dhruv, I’m not as wealthy as I was when I was born. I traveled to distant places and found treasures buried by old kingdoms and gifts left by the gods.Dhruv was shocked, but he kept listening.

“I’ve heard about the temple of Goddess Urvi, situated in the southern forests and constructed centuries ago. The goddess grants wishes to those who pray to her at the temple. It’s a challenging journey deep in the forest, but as I’m old, I’m inviting you to accompany me on this journey and share the gifts. Dhruv’s heart raced with excitement, and he could almost feel that this was his destiny. But there was a problem: his mother, Kamala. He couldn’t leave her. Also, he couldn’t pass up on the first opportunity he got in his miserable life.

Sensing some apprehension in Dhruv, Vrik spoke with urgency, saying, “This is your chance, Dhruv. You have the opportunity to break free from this suffering and provide your mother with the life she deserves.Dhruv thought, Yes, this is a chance to get rich and support his mother. He came to the conclusion that he needed to convince his mother to accompany Vrik on the journey.

After the meal, Vrik thanked Kamala and stated he would sleep on the foldable cot outside.

Dhruv assisted Kamala in cleaning the dishes. He carried a clay jar of water to Vrik. He placed the jar beside the cot and said, “I’m ready, but let me convince my mother.Vrik nodded with a grinning smile.

The door creaked open and Dhruv stepped inside. The air smelled fresh. Kamala sat on the floor as she adjusted the old carpet. Her red sari lay around her in soft folds. Her eyes, usually bright, were moist. But when she saw him, she wiped her face.

With a forced smile on her face, “Beta,” her voice trembling, “Did you give water to Vrik?”

“Yes, ma,” he replied. The room felt heavy, and he took a step closer to her and sat beside her on the floor.

Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her sari. She looked at him, waiting, and after silence, she asked, “What happened?Finally, he spoke. “I just ... wanted to see you. Her smile softened. But her eyes stayed sad, and the candle burned slowly. She reached for his hand, and her fingers felt cold to him. “You’re a good son,” she said. Her voice cracked.

Dhruv’s chest tightened as he watched her. He didn’t know what to say. So he squeezed her hand and moved closer. It felt small, fragile. “Ma,” he said, his voice steady but soft. “I know you’re scared. About me. About us. About the future.He paused. Her eyes met his, searching. He took a breath. “Vrik has a plan. A way out for me to take care of you. To give you the life you’ve always deserved. After another pause, he waited, watching her face and hoping for something. Don’t you want that? Do you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kamala’s smile faded. She turned her face away. Her eyes glistened, wet with unshed tears.

Of course I do, Dhruv,” she said softly. Her voice was so quiet, it was almost lost in the air between them.

She paused. Her next words came slowly, each one heavy with meaning. “But there are some things we can’t buy. Some lines ... You just don’t cross. Dhruv stared at her, silent. He didn’t and couldn’t argue.

I have been listening to your conversation with Vrik; the stories he is saying are filled with danger,” she said as the words hung for a while.

“What do you mean, Ma? “he pressed.

Kamala stayed quiet, her face unreadable.

Vrik said he has a job for me,” Dhruv pushed. “A way to get us out of here. It’s not that simple,” she said softly. “That man, Vrik ... He doesn’t see things the way we do. Dhruv’s mind raced. Why was she afraid? Kamala took a deep breath. Her eyes finally met Dhruv’s. “Dhruv,” she said, her voice shaking, “you need to listen to me. I already lost your father. I can’t lose you either. Her grip on his hand tightened. “Quick wealth isn’t easy,” she whispered. “That man makes it sound simple. But there’s always a price for power. For riches. Dhruv knew she was worried. But the thought of escaping poverty—it was too tempting. “Ma, this is our chance,” he said. “We can finally have a better life.Kamala’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t say anything. But her silence spoke louder than words.

Dhruv looked away. He wanted to believe Vrik. He wanted to believe in the promise of a better future. But his mother’s fear—it lingered. Like a shadow he couldn’t shake,

Kamala stared at him. Her eyes held love and fear for her son. She knew what waited outside their tiny home. A harsh world. A world where power was a cruel game. Where men like Jayari, the royal high minister, ruled. They treated people like pieces on a chessboard. Moves made without care. Lives changed in an instant.

Her heart raced. Her mind spun. What could she do? What should she do?

Dhruv leaned in to her slowly. His lips met hers in a kiss that was both hungry and soft. Their breaths mixed as they grew faster and heavier. Desperate.

His eyes locked onto her. Searching. Pleading. Do you see me? Do you understand?

He was telling her that something bigger is happening; his destiny, or maybe fate, was calling him.

The moment stretched; it was tense and electric. She pulled back, her heart pounding, still caught in the spell.

Dhruv stayed close, and his hands moved slowly up her sari-covered legs. His fingertips brushed her soft thighs. She trembled as a shiver ran through her. He sensed it, and they locked eyes.

A desire grew between them; she seemed to fight it but couldn’t deny his love. The whirlwind of the moment engulfed them.

Their lips met once again, and the kiss deepened. The tongues danced together slowly like something familiar and ancient.

He could feel her warmth. Her body pressed against his, soft and inviting. It was strange. Comforting, yet unsettling. Her breath quickened. Her chest rose and fell, matching his. The moment felt heavy, like the air before a storm.

“Ma,” he whispered, pulling back. His voice was soft but firm. “I’ll be fine. I love you. Nothing will happen to me.” Her eyes locked onto his. A storm of emotions swirled in them—fear, love, doubt. She nodded. A single tear slid down her cheek.

She knew she couldn’t stop him. Not when he believed this was his path. Not even if it meant letting go of the last piece of her heart.

Her hand trembled as she reached out. She smoothed his hair. Then, she kissed his forehead.

“I trust you, Dhruv,” she murmured. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “But be careful. Remember who you are. Remember what matters most. The air between them felt heavy. Yet, there was a quiet strength in her words. A mother’s love, fierce and unyielding, even in letting go.

The next morning, the sun rose over Kirita. Its light touched the dusty streets, quiet and still. Kamala stood at the door, her eyes fixed on the road. Her son, Dhruv, walked away with Vrik. Despite her heart aching, she agreed to this. Her love for him was stronger than her fear, and she let him go. She hoped this path would give him what she couldn’t—happiness, security, a future.

Kamala watched until she couldn’t see them anymore. Then she turned back inside. The house felt emptier already. She sat by the window, her thoughts heavy. Would he be safe? Would he find what he was looking for?

Only time would tell. For now, all she could do was wait. And hope.

The streets buzzed with life. People moved like a river, flowing in every direction. Dhruv and Vrik were just two drops in that river. They reached the market, and Vrik paid for two horses and supplies before they set off on their journey. As they mounted their horses, Dhruv glanced back one last time, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety.

The horses reached the city walls, and the duo journeyed onward. In the next few hours, the city faded behind them. The marketplace’s sounds, including shouts, bartering, and laughter, had vanished. The city walls disappeared. The land changed. Neat fields turned into wild forests. Trees grew taller, and there was only the steady thud of hooves and the occasional chirp of birds. Vrik rode ahead, silent, his eyes locked on the horizon.

For Dhruv, it wasn’t Kirita anymore. It felt like he stepped into another world.

The silence between them grew heavier. Dhruv wanted to ask questions. Where are we going? What’s out there? But he didn’t. Vrik’s sharp gaze kept him quiet.

As the night fell, a cool breeze brushed through the trees, carrying the smell of moss and damp earth. Dhruv lay by the fire, staring at the embers. The darkness around them felt alive. Watching. Waiting.

He shivered. Something was coming. He could feel it.

Three days later, they reached the southern forest. It was massive. Ancient. The trees were so tall, their branches so thick, they blocked out the sun. The underbrush was wild, untouched.

Dhruv’s heart raced. He looked at Vrik; the man’s face was unreadable. But his eyes—they were sharp.

Only the occasional snort of the horses broke the silence between them. Vrik finally spoke, with his voice low and solemn, “This is where your destiny lies, Dhruv,” he said. “In these woods, you’ll find the power to change your life. Maybe even the fate of Kirita.”

They dismounted the horses and walked into the forest that swallowed them whole. The air was thick; the scent of moss and damp filled Dhruv’s nose. He felt like the forest whispering as the leaves rustled. He heard strange, eerie cries in the distance.

As the underbrush clawed them, Vrik moved like a predator. His eyes never strayed from the path. Dhruv followed close behind, his own eyes darting side to side. He half-expected an ancient guardian to step out of the gloom.

Dhruv felt the cold air creep in as the rain began to pour, but the thick leaves slowed down the pressure. He shivered, and the excitement he felt at the beginning of this journey transformed into fear.

As the path steepened, Vrik moved ahead silently. Dhruv’s heart pounded as he followed his guide through the maze of trees and remembered his mother. He heard her voice and her cautions about the cost of power. But his desire to support her drove him forward.

They had been walking only for a few hours, but light faded. They began their walk in the morning, so it shouldn’t be dark yet. The thick canopy of leaves meant no light could reach there. They stood at the mouth of a cave. Its opening was wide, dark, and silent. The air turned cold. It smelled of wet stone and something sharp—like metal, or blood.

Vrik stopped, and his eyes burned with a fire that made Dhruv shiver. “Inside this sacred place,” he said, his voice low and echoing, “you’ll find what you’ve been searching for.”

Dhruv nodded as the weight of his task pressed down on him. He breathed in deeply. The air was heavy with the smell of earth and old incense.

Vrik said, his voice almost a whisper, “Inside you will find an orb; the Goddess Urvi herself guards the orb.” He continued, “Her eyes will see through the shadows. They’ll look into your soul. If she finds you worthy, she’ll grant you the orb. But be warned. Only the purest heart can walk away unharmed.”

As he heard the words, a doubt crept into his mind, and he asked, “What if I’m not worthy?” He then asked, “Why don’t you join me?”

Then came the truth. Vrik said, “My soul is not pure. I know I have served dark forces for years. I haven’t given you the whole truth; your father saved me, but I lost my hand in the battle,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “After the war, I prayed to a dark evil, and they granted me my hand, but I lost my family not long after. The power has corrupted me.”

Dhruv looked at him sympathetically. He understood now why the man chose a partner. He decided to enter the cave alone and face the goddess. He was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for his mother and their future.

With a nod to Vrik, Dhruv turned to the cave. He lit a wooden torch and stepped forward as the silent dark cave waited for him. Its mouth loomed wide, dark, and endless. It felt like stepping on the earth itself.

Dhruv’s legs shook as he took every step. The air turned cooler, sharp with the smell of wet stone. The torch in his hand flickered, throwing wild shadows on the walls. They danced over crude drawings carved into the rock. Men and women bowed before a fierce goddess, Urvi. Her many arms stretched wide, demanding worship. Sacrifice. Dhruv’s heart pounded. The images screamed at him.

He moved deeper, and his breath echoed, loud and lonely. The path narrowed, and from above, stalactites hung low, sharp as teeth. He ducked, his body tense. The smell of decay filled his nose. Skulls and bones lined the path. They served as a reminder that those who preceded him had not succeeded.

His mother’s words ran through his mind. Her warnings. Were they just fear? Or something more?

Dhruv felt the skulls were watching him and judging him with their empty eyes.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the path opened into a chamber. Carvings of passion and power covered the walls.

His eyes locked on the center of the room. A massive statue of the goddess Urvi stood, her fiery eyes seeming to stare directly into his soul. In her outstretched right hand, he saw the orb. Its otherworldly glow filled the space with swirling light and color. It is the size of a grape.

Dhruv felt the orb calling to him and took a step closer. He felt the air alive with energy. The mission was nearly successful.

The skulls and bones in the room showed him that they had all sought the same power and journeyed together. He sensed their whispers urging him to seize the orb. Now, it’s his turn.

He stretched his body high enough to reach for the orb; his hand trembled, and with his fingertips, he touched the cool surface of the orb.

Suddenly, the whispers grew louder, almost deafening and earth-shattering.

“Thief.”

The voice echoed through the chamber. The whispers emanating from the skull fell silent. A warning Dhruv couldn’t ignore. His heart skipped a beat. His hand froze above the pulsing light.

He turned to see no one. Only darkness stretched the cave endlessly.

He glanced back at the orb that was calling to him. He reached out again.

As his fingers touched the orb, the voice echoed in the chamber, “Thief, you will die.” Everywhere. Nowhere. The ghostly voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Dhruv closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mother’s face flashed in his mind. Her calloused hands. Her years of struggle. He remembered her warmth. Her love. She had embraced him tightly, whispering hopes for a brighter future. Her sacrifice had been everything.

Now it was his turn. He reached for the light, which pulsed brighter from the orb. Calling him.

The voice echoed again. “Fool. It will be your death.”

With a deep breath, Dhruv pressed his hand against the orb. Warmth spread through him, soft and steady, like a quiet hug. It wasn’t just heat—it felt alive. His soul, raw and open, stood before the goddess in the cosmos. Every shadow—every hidden thought—lit up under her fiery gaze.

He knew what the goddess saw. His desires. His longing for his mother. He fervently wants to protect her and guarantee her joy, irrespective of the repercussions.

Instead of pulling away, he faced it. The truth of his heart. He offered it up, not as a shameful secret, but as a gift. A sacrifice.

The whispers around him—those eerie voices of the dead—faded. In their place, a flute began to play. The melody was hauntingly beautiful. It didn’t just fill the air. It vibrated in his bones.

The orb’s light pulsed, matching the rhythm of the music. The air grew warmer, heavier.

Dhruv opened his eyes, and he saw himself standing in the middle of the chamber.

And there she was.

Goddess Urvi.

Her many arms stretched wide, each one draped with necklaces of skulls and snakes. Her eyes burned—not just with fire, but with something deeper. Something that could swallow worlds whole.