Prologue
Prologue: The Last Guardian
In the endless cycle of Samsara, souls are bound by ignorance and attachment—trapped in an unending loop of birth, death, and rebirth. This eternal journey keeps souls chained to desires, regrets, and unfinished business, preventing them from transcending.
But not all souls return with pure intentions. Some, consumed by darkness and corrupted by power, manipulate and deceive, seeking to escape the cycle and return to the living world. These malevolent spirits, driven by greed and vengeance, bring chaos and destruction to the mortal realm.
To protect the balance between life and death, the Samsara Clan was born—an ancient lineage entrusted with the responsibility of guarding the portal that bridges the two realms. For centuries, they stood as unwavering sentinels, ensuring that corrupted souls never crossed into the living world.
But darkness is persistent. Greed and ambition gave rise to the Death Order, a sinister organization obsessed with seizing control of the portal. Their goal was not to restore balance but to command the power of these corrupted souls, believing that mastery over death would grant them dominion over both realms.
Amid this chaos, a fragile hope remained—Sita, the last descendant of the Samsara Clan. As a child, her father, knowing the threat posed by the Death Order, sacrificed everything to protect her.
But the winds of fate are shifting ...
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CHAPTER -1
THE CHILD OF FATE
The gentle hum of prayers echoed through the serene mountains, blending with the rustling wind that swept across the ancient Buddhist temple. The air was calm, but the tension was about to shatter.
A man, bloodied and barely standing, stumbled to the temple gates. His arms clutched a tiny baby, her soft cries barely audible over his labored breathing.
"Master... please..." the man gasped, his voice hoarse and desperate.
The head monk, sensing the urgency, rushed toward the door. His calm demeanor wavered as he saw the injured man collapse to his knees.
Haneul (hoarsely): "Save her... please... the assassins... they're coming... protect her. Sita... protect her."
His trembling hands extended the baby toward the monk. Her innocent eyes, wide and unaware, looked up at the old man.
Haneul: "Death Order... they're after us. We tried to escape, but... the car... it crashed. I... I can't protect her anymore."
The monk's eyes darkened, understanding the weight of the situation. He gently took the child in his arms, his face a mixture of compassion and resolve.
Monk: "We will protect her. Do not worry, my son."
Haneul's body sagged with relief, but his heart remained heavy. He placed a delicate pendant in her tiny hand, his voice trembling.
Haneul (choking up): "Little Sita... forgive me. Your mother and I... we did everything to keep you safe. This pendant... will protect you. Please... grow up strong. Be a good soul."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his tears falling onto her soft skin.
Haneul: "I'm sorry... I love you."
His strength gave out, and he collapsed. The monks quickly surrounded him, but it was too late. His eyes remained fixed on Sita until they closed forever.
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The head monk cradled the baby, looking down at her innocent face.
Head Monk (whispers): "Just a child... and already burdened with so much."
He closed his eyes, murmuring a silent prayer.
Head Monk: "Oh Buddha... please bless this child with strength and a long life."
He turned to the younger monks, his voice steady.
Head Monk: "From today, Sita is our family. We will protect and nurture her."
The monks nodded, admiration in their eyes as they glanced at the tiny girl who had already captured their hearts.
Years Later...
The temple courtyard echoed with laughter. Four-year-old Sita ran toward the head monk, her little feet barely touching the ground.
Sita: "Dadaji! Help me!"
(Dadaji is a term used to call someone who is your grandfather or someone close to their age)
Her eyes were wide with panic as she hid behind him.
Sita: "The brothers are trying to make me drink milk! I don't like it!"
The younger monks chuckled softly, amused by her antics.
Head Monk (smiling): "Sita, if you don't drink your milk, how will you become strong enough to protect the temple?"
Sita's face grew serious. She pouted, deep in thought, then nodded with determination.
Sita: "Okay, Dadaji! I'll drink it all! I'll become super strong... and protect everyone!"
She puffed out her tiny chest, flexing her arms as if showing her "muscles." Milk dripped down her chin as she gulped it down, making everyone giggle.
Head Monk (softly): "Good girl, Sita... You will grow into a protector one day."
As the evening prayers began, little Sita knelt beside the monks, her hands folded.
Head Monk: "Repeat after me, dear..."
Sita: "Hey Buddha..."
Her soft voice echoed through the temple, a promise that her destiny was already in motion.
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TO BE CONTINUED...