NOVEL NEXT Chapter 54: The Palace Archives II
The restricted section of the archives was narrow and dark, its air heavy with the scent of ancient paper and aged wood. Long rows of wooden shelves, their surfaces worn smooth by time, stood like silent sentinels guarding the secrets of centuries past. Dust blanketed the manuscripts and tomes, undisturbed for ages, lending an almost ethereal quality to the dimly lit space.
Prince Aryaman, having been left alone by Gopala, the head archivist, ventured deeper into the labyrinthine passageways. His footsteps echoed softly, mingling with the faint rustle of his robes. The flickering torchlight cast wavering shadows on the walls, creating an illusion of movement in the stillness.
Aryaman's eyes scanned tomes and palm-leaf manuscripts, their titles barely discernible under layers of dust. He reached out occasionally, his fingers brushing against the worn leather covers, feeling the history embedded in their fabric.
He paused, drawn inexplicably to a particular tome resting on a high shelf. It seemed to pulse with a faint, almost imperceptible glow as if echoing the remnants of a cosmic energy long dormant. Aryaman's heart quickened as he carefully lifted the book from its resting place. The cover, though aged and cracked, bore intricate designs.
As he opened the tome, a slight breeze stirred, ruffling the pages as if they remembered the touch of divine hands. Aryaman's eyes widened as he began to read, the words - written in cosmic language he alone knew revealing the chronicles of a great war between Gods and Rakshasas, and the pivotal role played by the Yakshas. The descriptions of battles fought with ferocious intensity, the sky ablaze with otherworldly fire, came alive in his mind.
Aryaman, recalling the cosmic tongue his mother had taught him, whispered an ancient incantation. The tome vibrated slightly in his hands, its pages flipping of their own accord until they settled on the section related to the yakshas. He asked the tome to reveal the truth about the green fire of the yakshas.
The air around Aryaman seemed to shimmer as the tome's magic took hold, drawing him into the scene. The skies darkened with ominous clouds as the barrier between the worlds shattered, unleashing chaos upon Bhu Loka. The gods, radiant and resplendent, descended from Swarga Loka with their cosmic power. Each deity wielded weapons imbued with celestial energy, their auras shimmering with divine brilliance.
In contrast, the Rakshasas, fearsome and monstrous, rose from Patala Loka, their forms twisted by dark, demonic energy. Their eyes glowed with malevolent fire, and their roars echoed like the harbingers of doom. The ground trembled under the might of their assault, as they unleashed torrents of dark flames and streams of corrupting energy that consumed everything in their path.
The battlefield was a maelstrom of clashing powers. Agni, the god of fire, summoned infernos that danced and writhed, incinerating legions of Rakshasas. Varuna, the god of water, conjured tidal waves that crashed upon the demonic hordes, drowning their malevolent cries. But the Rakshasas were relentless, their demonic energy resisting the divine onslaught. They conjured illusions to deceive and ensnare the gods, and their dark flames burned with a hunger that defied the celestial fires.
Amidst this chaos, Aryaman saw the yakshas. Some stood with the gods, their forms glowing with a soft, ethereal light. Others, corrupted by dark promises, fought alongside the rakshasas. These traitorous yakshas wielded the green fire, a terrifying weapon born from the Yakshamani, a gem that contained the essence of yaksha powers.
The green fire was no ordinary flame. It twisted and writhed with a malevolent will, spreading destruction and chaos wherever it touched. Aryaman could almost feel its heat, a sickly, consuming energy that gnawed at him fiercely. The yakshas wielded it with a dreadful grace, their eyes reflecting the eerie green glow.
The tome showed the yakshamani, a gem glowing with a fierce, emerald light. This gem was the source of the green fire, harnessed through dark rituals and forbidden mantras. The gods, recognizing the danger, launched a desperate mission to strip the yakshas of this power.
Aryaman watched as a fierce battle unfolded. The gods, led by Purandhara, the emperor of Swarga Loka, managed to wrest the yakshamani from the yakshas' grasp. The gem's glow faded as it was sealed away, hidden from the world to prevent its dark power from being unleashed again. The yakshamani's removal marked a turning point in the war, but its eventual disappearance left a lingering fear of its potential return.
In the chaos of the war, a group of rakshasas, driven by a desire to corrupt the human bloodlines, targeted some sects of humans. Aryaman saw visions of his ancestors fighting valiantly but ultimately falling victim to a dark curse. The rakshasas infused a strain of their demonic energy into the Dayita bloodline, a seed of corruption that threatened to bloom into chaos.
The gods, realizing the gravity of this act, decreed that only a union with a celestial being could cleanse the tainted blood. Thus, Aryaman's mother, a divine being from Swarga Loka, married into the Dayita dynasty to neutralize the rakshasa strain.
As Aryaman absorbed the weight of these revelations, the room seemed to close in around him. The realization that his own blood carried a potential for darkness was unsettling, yet it also ignited a fierce resolve within him. I won’t succumb to its darkness, he swore to himself.
Closing the tome gently, Aryaman felt the lingering traces of cosmic energy still resonating in his fingertips. He placed the book back on the shelf. As he stepped out of the restricted section, the flickering torchlight seemed brighter, the shadows less foreboding.