Rudra drifted through darkness, suspended in a place so silent he wondered if he'd ever known noise. No pain, no fear—only the sense of falling through memory. Light flickered, and the world shimmered around him, rearranging itself into a memory not quite his own.
He found himself standing on a shore of silver sand, a sky above swirling with unknown stars. The waves, glimmering with celestial fire, lapped softly at his feet. Someone waited there—a woman more radiant than any human, wrapped in a sari of pure starlight. Her features were unmistakably his own, refracted through centuries.
"Come, Rudra," she called, and her voice carried the music of the spheres.
He edged forward, awe and confusion mingling. "Mother? Is this…is this really you?"
She nodded, but sadness shadowed her eyes. "Not as you remember me. I am Savitri, but before I wore that name, I was more—one of the Devakanya, the daughters of the divine. Our kind watched over the boundaries between worlds."
"You're not human?" Rudra's voice trembled.
She smiled gently. "Not as mortals know it. I loved your earthly father, yes, but my true nature was hidden so you might live among his kind, protected from those who covet celestial bloodlines. That is why you are neither wholly of Earth, nor entirely of the sky."
A memory bloomed in Rudra's mind—a moment when, as a toddler, he had toddled away from his crying father and reached out to the storm-darkened sky. Lightning had parted harmlessly above their roof, a silver hand beckoning. Even then, he had felt the pull, the sense that he came from something not fully describable in human words.
He looked up at her, tears stinging his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you leave me there alone?"
She lifted his chin. "To keep you hidden from the Red Council, from Yakshini. They hunt the divine, seeking to chain immortality and magic for themselves. You are the last link to the old order. My sacrifice was your shield."
Rudra choked on the weight of it all. "Am I—am I even real? Am I just magic pretending to be a boy?"
She enfolded him in her arms, and for that instant, he was no longer lost. "You are real—more real than you know. You are the boundary, the crossroads, the hope of two worlds. The time has come for you to remember who you are."
The star-shore dissolved. Rudra was a child again, sitting by the fire in his family's small house. His father, tired and loving, told him a story of the gods and their children. "The mighty ones walk among us, son," he'd said. "Sometimes, they hide in plain sight, just to know what it means to be loved as a person, not a legend."
The memory faded as pain returned—sharp, burning, the sound of the Veil-Walker's roar echoing in the present.
He opened his eyes to chaos. The Saptarishi Chamber was crumbling, stone and dust choking the air. Roohi knelt beside him, desperately shaking his shoulders. "Rudra! Wake up—don't let go now! We need you!"
Bunty's hands pressed against his chest, his friend's voice tight with fear. "Come on, bro. If you're some kind of star prince or whatever, you can't give up on us now."
Jessica spun, shielding them from a lashing tendril of shadow. "The Red Council's magic is corrupting everything. The only way to stop this is you—Rudra, you have to choose now!"
Above them, Yakshini stood at the edge of the broken chamber, her crimson eyes wild. "You cannot win, boy! You are a mistake of old power—divine blood wasted on mortals. Give yourself up, and your friends will live. Fight, and I will unmake every memory of you!"
Rudra pushed himself upright, strength flooding through him. Celestial symbols danced across his arms, and his voice was steadier than it had ever been. "I am not a mistake. I am not your weapon. I am both divine and mortal. I am the crossroads—and I choose to end your horror."
The Veil-Walker's roaring maw gaped wider. Yakshini shrieked, hurling a lance of red light.
Rudra stepped forward, raising a hand. "You want the gate?" His palm blazed with starlight. "Then you answer to me and all my ancestors."
The chamber exploded into warring magic—starfire against shadow, divine song against the Council's shrieking curses.
Somewhere in the oncoming storm, Rudra heard his mother's voice, steady and proud.
"Remember, my son—you do not stand alone."
With the last of his fear burning away, Rudra strode toward the heart of the chaos, his friends behind him, the fate of both worlds in his hands.
And as the Veil-Walker's vast shadow began to fall over them all, the echo of a thousand stars opened a path inside his mind—inviting him to a place no mortal had walked in ages.