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  “Aye,” Shiv said, “I understand.”

  Brahma turned to Vishnu, “And what about you, Vishnu,” he asked, “what will you do next?”

  Vishnu smiled once more, his anger already forgotten, “Well, one Rām did half the task,” he said, “it will take one more to complete it.”

  He looked at the canvass of reality spread out before them, “The Age of Rāvan will soon end,” he said, “and the Age of Rām shall begin.”

  *******

  The Earth: Before the Satya Yuga

  The Dark came through the barriers into the young earth, and the Daitya lord Dhūmrakarna, blessed with invincibility against all Gods by Shiv himself, laid waste to the armies of the Light. And even Shiv himself was helpless, blessed as the Daitya was by his own hand. It was then that Vishnu promised the Gods that he would kill Dhūmrakarna… boon or no boon.

  But Shiv cautioned his brother, “My boon cannot be broken, Vishnu” he said, “Else it will shatter the walls of reality.”

  “There is a way,” Vishnu said to Shiv, “but it can only be by your will.”

  “What does that mean?” Shiv asked, curiously, “What would you have me do?”

  Vishnu smiled once more, “You will have to save me, brother,” he said, “you will have to redeem me.”

  And even as Dhūmrakarna renewed his attack upon the earth, the Great God Vishnu rode out alone to meet him in battle. But though he knew that the boon of Shiv would not protect the Daitya, he knew also that this act today would not be without consequences.

  In the war that ensued, as the Dark of Dhūmrakarna threatened to swallow the earth entire, rising to its apex, Vishnu lashed out with his complete power, the power of Creation and Annihilation both…as the God of Gods fed off his own substance…

  And even as the Dark was pushed back through the barrier between worlds, Vishnu would not allow Dhūmrakarna to escape along with it. He caught the Daitya by the throat, his own form beginning to crack as he defied the boon of Shiv…and snapped the neck of Dhūmrakarna.

  But the boon of Shiv lay broken, and the universe seemed to scream in agony. But Vishnu, the preserver of all existence, came once more to protect it, and heal every wound that had been inflicted on creation. And in the end, he succeeded, restoring the cosmos once more.

  But tested even to his infinite limits, Vishnu fell into the void of nothingness, dying so that the universe might live. But then Shiv finally arrived, bringing his brother back from the depths of oblivion, breathing back life into his brother.

  “How…” Shiv whispered, “how did you do this, brother? How did you break the bonds of my boon?”

  “No, Shiv,” Vishnu said, “I broke nothing…you all…you all…never understood…the truth.”

  “What truth?” Shiv.

  “The boon of invincibility against all Gods…” Vishnu said painfully, “that boon was not yours, was it? It belonged to the God of the Dark World….it was…”

  “Rūdra’s,” Shiv said, but his eyes narrowed, “but what difference does that make? Rūdra is me…my form in the Old world.”

  “Aye,” Vishnu said, “that is true…and that is why the boon could be weakened. After all, any boon in the Dark World could not work against me, brother.”

  Vishnu looked at Shiv’s confused face and smiled, “The Dark World, brother,” he said, “have you forgotten the Dark has no word for me? There is no essence…no part of me in that realm. Rūdra blessed Dhūmrakarna that no God could stop him. But then…” his words trailed off as he saw the light of understanding in Shiv’s eyes.

  “But then,” Shiv continued, “there is no Vishnu in the Dark World. The laws of a world cannot govern what does not even exist there.”

  “Aye,” Vishnu said, “for just as I could not enter the Old world to stop the Dark, thus did the boon of Dhūmrakarna lose its power before me… the one God the Dark does not know.”

  “But you still almost died doing this,” Shiv said, “why was that?”

  “Because I have still sinned, brother,” Vishnu said, “I tricked all of reality. And though the universe does not know it, we do…the two of us. You are Rūdra…his boon should have been yours. But I did not let it. Willfully…knowingly.”

  “I said reality would shatter,” Shiv said, “but this was never about reality, was it? It was you…you were going to sacrifice yourself.”

  Vishnu smiled, “If that was what it took to save this universe,” he said, “then so be it. But I had faith in you brother, I knew you would not let me go.”

  “You said I would have a chance at redemption,” Shiv said, smiling, “and I could not let you die for my folly.”

  Vishnu smiled, “You misunderstood me, Shiv,” he said slowly, “I said you would have a chance to save me. But your redemption will be long in coming.”

  Shiv looked at him, his eyes narrowing, “What does that mean?”

  Vishnu gave him a painful smile, “Brother,” he said, “let us talk about the future.”

  “The future?” Shiv asked.

  “In the ages to come,” Vishnu said, “there will come a time when the Light and the Dark shall intersect upon this earth…”

  “The Tretā Yuga,” Shiv said, completing his brother’s words.

  “And once more shall the Dark rise with the power of your boon,” Vishnu said, “and no God of the Light would be able to hold it back… not even I. But I would need to stand against it nonetheless.”

  “But if the boon is given on this earth,” Shiv asked, “then how will even you succeed?”

  “The answer to that, Shiv,” Vishnu said, “shall be the key to your redemption.”

  “How?” Shiv asked.

  “When I stand against that Dark,” Vishnu said, “you will surrender your soul to me, and repay the debt you owe creation.”

  “None of the Great Gods can surrender to the other, Vishnu,” Shiv said, “you know that well. We were created equal. To change that, even for an instant, would be to threaten reality anew.”

  Vishnu smiled, “But an Avatār of you can, my brother,” he said, “for when cloaked in mortal flesh, the rules of the Gods no longer hold true.”

  “You would have me betray the one who would hold faith in me?” Shiv asked, “when both the Dark and the Light mean the same to me?”

  “Aye, brother, I would,” Vishnu said, “but only when the one that has faith in you, betrays that faith, when it is no longer about the Dark or the Light, but about right and wrong.”

  “But how do you know such a moment will come?” Shiv asked.

  Vishnu smiled, “The universe is doomed to inevitability, Shiv,” he said, “and its tales repeat themselves over the eons. You just need to know where to look.”

  “But how do you know I will give such a boon?” Shiv asked.

  “You will, brother,” Vishnu said, “after all, are you not a tale of the universe yourself?”

  *******

  Lankā: Now, in the strands of frozen time

  Rāvan looked at Vishnu, and smiled, “The moment I betray him,” he said, “the murder of Sitā, was it not?”

  Vishnu frowned, “You have betrayed him too many times already, Rāvan,” he said, “causing the deaths of so many in your madness to bring me down. And that is why the birth of Hanumān took place. But even then, Shiv was loath to abandon you. But when you directly struck one that meant you no harm, one that prayed to him, not for herself but for another, at that moment the favour of Shiv left you forever.”

  Rāvan grinned darkly, “And what of your own sin, God of tricks?” he asked, “You failed Vedvati once before, and again did you use her as a pawn in your own little game. She died by my hands, but her blood is on yours.”

  It was now Vishnu’s turn to smile, “The only pawn here was you, Rāvan,” the Great God said, “for Sitā was not Vedvati, but Lakshmi herself, disguised in the form of the one being that could cloud your wisdom, the one whose death you could not wash off your soul…all to make you believe this was still the
same tale of vengeance.”

  “Ha!” Rāvan countered, “then it is one more death you have to atone for, Vishnu,” he said, “for you are complicit in the murder of your wife! I have taken at least that much from you.”

  Vishnu shook his head, “No, Rāvan,” he said, “you did not. There was no murder, for Sitā did not die.”

  “What do you mean?” Rāvan asked hoarsely, “I killed her…I burned it all…the Āshram…the Light…everything!”

  “You forgot what I said, Rāvan,” Vishnu replied, “your power is the power of Shiv. Did you think he would allow you to knowingly murder an innocent with his own power?”

  “But the Dark,” Rāvan stammered, “I saw it consume the Light, I heard the prayers stop.”

  Vishnu smiled, “You saw what I wished you to see, Rāvan,” he said, “or have you forgotten my power of illusion? Only if you truly believed you had succeeded and yet felt not the barest tinge of remorse would Shiv be convinced of your corruption.”

  “But the prayers…” Rāvan began, but his words trailed off as he realized the answer to his question. How could he sense the prayers of Shiv when his God had abandoned him? Aye, Vishnu had planned this well indeed.

  Rāvan said nothing, absorbing the truth of Vishnu’s words. And then he nodded, forcing a smile on his face, “Every moment,” he asked, “you were a step ahead of me, were you not?”

  Vishnu nodded, “For far longer than you suspect, Rāvan,” he replied, “as you now understand.”

  “Shiv blessed me with infinite wisdom,” Rāvan said, “how then could this happen?”

  “What is infinity to one that exists outside of reality, Rāvan,” Vishnu asked, “as I said before, did you truly believe that your tale was unique?”

  Rāvan answered simply, “Aye, Vishnu,” he said, “it was. The tale of Rāvan shall forever be his alone.”

  Vishnu stared at the foe that he had fought across the expanse of a Yuga, and he nodded.

  “You are right,” he admitted, “the universe never saw one such as you before, and there shall be none like you ever again. You were the creator of the Tretā, Rāvan, and though your death was inevitable, it took the power of all three of the Great Gods to achieve it. If it was honour you sought, there could be none greater.”

  Rāvan nodded, finally letting go of the hate that had possessed him for so long.

  “Very well then, o greatest of Gods” Rāvan said, throwing wide his arms, “I accept my fate.”

  *******

  Then the flow of time resumed, and once more the deadly arrow sped on its way. Rāvan closed his eyes, as the Brahmāstra pierced his body, setting it ablaze, even as the heaven and the earth rejoiced. He fell to the earth, dying, blazing with the power within him, as the weapon of Brahma drained the life out of him.

  On the battlefield, Rām sank to the earth, as the energies of the Gods left him, having spent themselves in the annihilation of an indestructible foe. But weak though he was, the prince of Ayodhyā turned towards the one he had defeated, the one that matched him as none ever had before. But as he tried to gaze upon Rāvan, he found that he could not bring his eyes to look upon the dying Daitya. Unbeknownst to him, with the power of the Gods no longer augmenting him, his mortal body was incapable of withstanding the rampant energies that blazed out of Rāvan’s dying form. But even so, there was more to the prince than simply the essence of Vishnu. And though he could barely bring himself to move, he still managed to crawl over to Rāvan.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered to Rāvan, “but you left me no choice.”

  And even so near death, the king of Lankā looked at Rām, and felt a strange stirring in his heart. Whatever had brought about his death, the deed had been done by one that was beyond reproach. There was nothing but sadness in the eyes of Rām, and a vast respect for the one he had killed.

  And as he realized that, a light of fondness glowed for one last time in the eyes of Rāvan, “Young prince,” he said, “the choice was never yours.”

  And then, even as his vision faded, he perceived the figure of glowing Light come to stand beside the prince of Ayodhyā.

  Sitā, he realized…alive…and reunited with her lord. The face of Vedvati appeared in front of his eyes, and the memories of a horrific past resurfaced…for an instant before that pain…that sin…was washed away from his soul.

  With that final burden lifted, King Rāvan of Lankā, the first of the BrahmaDaityas, breathed his last, content that he matched the Gods as none other could, and knowing in his dying breath, that his tale would never fade.

  Chapter 1: The BrahmaDaitya

  Ten Thousand Years Later

  The Satya Yuga had ended, and the epoch of the Tretā had begun. For the first time, the earth was facing a dilemma that was truly irresolvable. The age of virtue had ended, and would not return till the universe resurrected itself from nothingness. But until then, the earth would spin further and further into the shadow of the Dark. There was, quite literally, no escape.

  To be clear, the threat of the Dark had been alive in the Satya Yuga as well. But back then, none could dream of traversing between the opposite worlds. For there were barriers between these universes, nigh impossible to breach. Whatever madness came forth from that dark unknown realm was always… unfailingly… pushed back beyond the veil.

  But Creation was never meant to be divided, and as such, craved amalgamation, and those barriers would not last forever. But the Great Gods knew that the universe of the Light, still in its infancy, would not survive the touch of the Dark. They could not stop the inevitable, but they could surely delay it. Thus they kept the Dark at bay, buying time for this new universe. Time…for the Light to grow…

  The twin universes moved together, each ignorant of the presence of the other. But the Dark realm, already nearing its entropic end, eventually discerned the presence of the nascent realm of the Light. Over the next thousands of years, the Dark pushed against the membrane of realms, trying to claim the world of Light. But time and again, the Gods of the Light pushed it back, knowing that world of the Light was not yet ready to face its shadowed half.

  Thus, the Satya Yuga was preserved on this realm, allowing the Light to evolve. But with the Tretā Yuga, the rules of the game would change. With the end of the First Age, the vibrations that held the world apart began to weaken, as was always meant to be. What were two, gradually was becoming one.

  The Second Age, or the Tretā Yuga would usher in the era of that union, when Light and Dark would finally find place on the same world. The realms of the inhabitants of the shadow world, the Daityas…would rise, rivaling the kingdoms of light. Then would come the Third Age, or the Dvāpar Yuga, where the Darkness would not be restricted to the Daityas, and would claim even those born of the world of Light…the Mānavs…or Men. Finally, the Dark would fully merge with Light, and every living soul would hold both good and evil within themselves. That would be the Final Age, the Yuga of Kali. From then on, the Dark shall consume creation, until the universe died once more in entropic heat. Then the cycle would begin again. And even the highest of Gods were bound by this law. No being in all of creation could change it.

  But then, there was one being that almost did! This is his tale.

  This is the legend of the being who challenged the greatest of Gods, and almost won!

  This is the tale of Rāvan.

  A tale that began when the Tretā Yuga was still in its infancy, in the dark netherworld of Pātāl.

  *******

  Pātāl: The Underworld

  Sumāli, lord of the Daityas, sat upon his throne of Obsidian, surrounded by a sorry facsimile of his old world. The magma in the earth’s belly cast a scarlet light on everything in the netherworld. Its scalding heat served as a cruel reminder of the grim fate of his kind.

  The shadow world had begun merging with Bhoomi (The Earth). The two worlds now existed both together and separately, at the same time. Only the most powerful of beings could break through to the other world, an
d even fewer could actually withstand the touch of the Light. The Daitya lord Sumāli, and his brothers Mālyavan and Māli, were the strongest of their kind…the most powerful creatures of the shadow world. It was their task to conquer the Light, their task to lead the way from the world of death to one of new life.

  When they first entered this new world, their hardened flesh had burnt in the uncorrupted light of Bhoomi. Undeterred, they bore the agony of the primeval Light, unmindful of its near killing touch. With their incredible powers, they not only proceeded to call forth their demonic legions from the old world, but also shielded the Dark hordes from the deadly Light.

  Gradually, the Daityas adapted to this unblemished world. Once they mastered the art of survival, the next step was the creation of a new home. Thus was built the first citadel of the Dark, the fortress called Lankā. Within its shadowed walls, the Dark realm was resurrected, eating further into the bonds that held the worlds apart. The merging of worlds continued unabated, as preordained. But just because it was preordained, did not mean that the Earth accepted it.

  There were Gods that served the Earth, seemingly divine beings born of the Light that shone bright in the First Yuga. Beings called the Devas…

  Thus far, Bhoomi, including all creatures both within and upon it, had been a reflection of these Devas, made in their image. The intrusion of the shadow world was an affront to everything they had ever known. They would not tolerate this.

  Thus began the great wars, between the Devas and the Daityas of Lankā. The Light and the Dark were natural enemies, and every time they drew closer, each threatened to consume the other. With each war, the hatred grew exponentially. The wars raged for centuries, but the fortress of Lankā remained impregnable. With the power it drew from the old world, it grew ever more unbreachable. The Daityas knew with absolute certainty that they would not lose this war. But their ambitions had grown far beyond that. Now, they wanted to win it.

  With that solitary thought, their goal turned from survival to conquest. The tendrils of war extended beyond Lankā, and for the first time, Sumāli led his legions to the doors of Swarg… the celestial abode of the Devas. Powered by the growing vibrations of the shadow world, he almost won the eons-old war. Almost…!