Agni descended the marble steps of the Svarga throne. Each footfall rang with quiet purpose. His gaze was fixed, his presence sharp and disciplined. In his eyes danced the embers of war.
Once, he had led the Deva legions to the gates of Pātāla. There, at the threshold of the underworld, he had faced the tyrant Hiraṇyakaśipu. With a single, blazing strike, he had brought the Asura king to his knees.
Or so he had believed.
The blow had struck true, yet the victory had been hollow. Agni had failed to notice the shield of invincibility coiled around the tyrant, a gift granted by Brahmadev. His flames had not even scorched the enemy.
He had no time to retreat. And worse still, he had been taken hostage.
From that day forward, the Deva of Fire abandoned the arrogance of raw power. He no longer fought for glory. Instead, he became a student of war. Not as a clash of might, but as a careful balance of loss and advantage. Every humiliation became a lesson. Every defeat turned into a doctrine.
In the years that followed, he had watched Indra rise alone, reclaiming Svarga piece by piece. Yet every time the Devas tried to push deeper, to strike into the heart of Pātāla, they met only ruin. Their armies disappeared. Their victories turned to dust. The underworld swallowed their ambitions whole.
Even when the Devas held the upper hand, Indra had never once ordered a full invasion. Not when their forces outnumbered the Asuras. Not even when victory seemed within reach.
Agni had understood what others could not.
The Asuras were not just residents of Pātāla. They were born of it. That realm was not their battlefield. It was their stronghold, their sanctuary, their origin. Though they shared the bloodline of Kashyapa, their spirit diverged. The Devas had ascended to Svarga, choosing harmony and law. The Asuras had descended, embracing chaos, pride, and oath-bound fury.
No force from Bhūloka, Svarga, or even Maharloka could hope to defeat them there.
Pātāla was not a battlefield. It was a womb.
And war should never be waged in the arms of one's enemy's mother.
Yet if they could be drawn out, if they could be lured into Antariksha, far from their strength...
Agni exhaled slowly. A thin, knowing smile curved his lips.
"My plan is simple," he said. His voice was even, but the weight behind it turned every head.
"Vāyu, send the declaration of war. Tell Vajranga to meet us in Antariksha."
Some of the Devas exchanged uncertain glances, but Agni raised a hand and continued.
"We will feign defeat. We will make it convincing. Then we retreat to Svarga. If they pursue us, we strike. Three hundred thousand Devas against one hundred thousand Asuras."
He closed his fingers into a fist, as if he already held the enemy commander in his grasp.
"Overwhelming force. Coordinated strike. Total victory."
Silence followed. Then, slowly, heads began to nod.
Surya crossed his arms. His brows were drawn, his voice measured. "This is the same commander who led the Gandharvas in the First War. I expected no less."
"Well said," Vāyu added. There was respect in his tone. "A plan with weight."
Even Rishi Brihaspati offered a faint, approving glance. The doubt in his eyes gave way to contemplation.
"Perhaps Agni truly does possess more than heat and fury."
But just as momentum began to shift, a sharp crack echoed through the court. Kaśyapa's wooden staff struck the floor like thunder. The sound rippled outward, silencing the room.
"A clever plan, son," said Kashyapa, his voice calm, yet cold as stone. "But it is meaningless."
The warmth vanished. All turned to face the ancient sage.
His eyes moved slowly across the gathered court, then settled on Agni.
"Vajranga holds a boon from Brahmadev. As long as he sets foot within the lands of Svarga, no Deva and no army shall defeat him."
Gasps rose from the gathered Devas. Even Brihaspati, who had stood proud moments earlier, now faltered, lips parting in disbelief. The foundation of Agni's strategy, so meticulously laid, had been undermined in a single sentence.
"You must abandon this plan of war," Kashyapa said, quieter now. "I came to warn you, not to mock you. The time seems apt, but this plan… will only lead to your ruin."
A heavy silence blanketed the court.
Then came the thunder.
"No!"
Agni's voice struck like a war drum, loud and resolute, shattering the paralysis that gripped the room. His right hand shot into the air, flames crackling faintly around his fingers. His stance was firm, unshaken. The light in his eyes blazed brighter than ever.
Every Deva turned toward him. The atmosphere pulsed with tension, the air thick with divine energy. Whether it was pride, defiance, or raw faith, Agni's conviction held the court like a blaze held its hearth.
The hearts of the Devas pounded like war drums, each beat accelerating with the intensity of the moment. A storm of anticipation swelled in their chests.
"So this is the blessing of Vajranga," Surya murmured, awe and unease in his voice.
"Very well," Agni declared, his voice like steel striking flint. "Then we'll face him in the Antariksha. I'll ensure he never sets foot in Svarga."
With a calm breath, Agni raised his hand. In an instant, a flame roared to life in his palm, the sacred fire, flickering and alive, its light dancing across his fierce, unwavering gaze.
There was no uncertainty in him.
"There are many Rishis in Svarga," Agni continued, his tone firm yet unyielding, a flicker of fire in his eyes. "Keep them here, honor them with banquets, continue Yajnas for the victory of Devas… and when the time comes, they might be willing to help us."
A few Devas exchanged uneasy glances, their brows furrowed.
Agni's gaze hardened, his resolve unwavering. "If Vajranga dares attempt to breach Svarga, even then, I will call upon the Rishis to block his way. Should they refuse..." His words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken threat. "If I am not killed in battle, then as the King of Svarga will be imprisoned, and all the yajna agnis extinguished. No rituals. No Yajnas. Let them choose."
His fingers curled, as if already clutching the threads of fate itself. "And when the tide of war shifts in our favor, I will face Vajranga in single combat. I possess the strength now. I will bring him down."
His voice softened for a moment, a quiet reverence entering his words. "It is time we turned the tide."
But then, a calm yet powerful voice interrupted, drawing the attention of all present.
"Why all this conflict?" Rishi Kaśyapa stepped forward, his eyes bearing the weight of eons, his voice imbued with centuries of wisdom. "Let me speak to Vajranga. There may still be a way to find peace."
Agni raised his chin, his eyes glowing not with arrogance, but with the quiet intensity of one who had long endured in silence.
"Because this time..." His voice cracked through the stillness like a thunderclap. "I want to win, without the help of my elder brother."
The words rang out in the temple, reverberating like a sacred chant, each echo carrying a message that was both defiant and resolute: Win once… win once… win once…
The chamber stirred. Devas clenched their fists. Others straightened their backs, shoulders squared, jaws set. A new fire kindled in the room, not one of destruction, but of shared resolve.
Yes. They wanted that too.
To win, not survive, not retreat, not bargain. To stand victorious.
"Vāyu!" Agni's voice rang out like a war horn. "By the command of Svarga, declare war on Pātāla. Declare war on the Asuras. Declare war on Vajranga, King of the Patalaloka!"
"Understood!" Vāyu replied, his voice booming with newfound determination. Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the temple, wind gathering at his heels.
Agni turned then to the sages who stood silently, caught in the wake of his declaration. He clasped his hands together, his voice formal.
"Teacher. Father." His eyes moved from Brihaspati to Kaśyapa. "The Rishis must remain in Svarga. A war is about to begin. Please… aid the Devas by not letting them return to Maharloka."
He didn't need to say the rest.
Those Rishis would be vital when the final blow was struck.
...
Patala Loka.
Asura King's Palace, Mahāpatala Garden.
Within the garden, vibrant blossoms bloomed in every shade imaginable, their fragrances blending into an intoxicating perfume that lingered in the cool night air. Above them, stars shimmered softly like scattered candles in the vast sky, their glow casting a gentle radiance over the petals below.
Ordinarily, no stars shone in the depths of Pātāla.But thanks to Maya, master of illusion among the Asuras, this garden defied natural law. Here, beneath the illusion-woven dome, the stars could be seen.
Nestled in Vajranga's lap, Valani leaned against him with a smile that sparkled brighter than the stars above. Her fingers, delicate and pale, traced slow circles over her bare abdomen.
There was a light in her eyes, one not born from magic or starlight, but from something deeper. Something real.
Her voice was soft, a tender joy in every syllable. "Husband," she whispered, "I bring you good news."
A playful smile tugged at her lips. "There's life stirring within me. I'm certain, I'm with child."
Vajranga froze, disbelief flashing in his eyes. His breath caught.
"I'm going to be a father?" His voice was barely a whisper, then louder, full of wonder. "I'm going to be a father!"
With a roar of laughter, he lifted her into the air, spinning her once before pulling her back into his embrace, his arms wrapped tight with all the warmth of his heart.
His joy radiated like firelight, and for a moment, the war, the politics, the cosmic tensions, none of it mattered.
Valani giggled in his arms, her fingers teasingly trailing along his chest. "A son born of you… born of the one who will soon ascend as Lord of the Tri Lokas."
She leaned in, her voice sultry. "Name him. Let his name echo throughout the cosmos."
Vajranga blinked, caught off guard by the question. He glanced around the garden as though the flowers might answer. His gaze slowly lifted to the sky.
Above them, the stars swam in the endless black, a sea of glittering light in a realm not meant for it. Their brilliance was spellbinding… distant yet intimate.
And then a single word came to him, like a whisper from the cosmos.
"Tāraka."
He said it aloud, once… twice… again.
Tāraka… Tāraka…
The name echoed through the garden like a mantra. As though nature itself had heard, a wind began to stir, petals rising in a spiral dance, flower branches swaying in rhythm.
Boom!
A thunderclap split the silence of the garden. A streak of brilliant white light tore across the sky, crashing down toward the temple with the force of a comet.
Vajranga's eyes snapped upward. The warmth in them vanished, replaced by steel. He rose to his feet in a single motion, his instincts roaring louder than the thunder.
That light… it wasn't just a celestial phenomenon. He could feel it. The chakras of his brothers and mortal enemies.
The Devas were coming.
---
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