Alaya had meditated for days. She fasted, quieted her thoughts, and let the universe speak through the void. It was in that state that Akasha appeared between dimensional veils. She did not know who he was. Not in that moment. But it didn't matter.For that was not the time to discover truths — it was the time to save what remained of Earth's essence. And that is what she did.
Minutes before Tribal's silence reached them, Alaya opened the rift.And everyone stepped inside.
Inside, everything looked the same — but inverted.As if standing on the other side of a mirror.
The mountains were in the same places.The rivers still flowed.The trees still danced with the wind.
But… something was wrong.
The colors no longer carried the right feelings.The blue sky no longer comforted.The green of the leaves no longer purified.The crystalline waters no longer quenched thirst.
Humans began to scream.Creatures grew restless, snarling, fleeing, bumping into one another.Chaos spread like fever.
The space felt the same — but time… did not.It was scrambled, fragmented.The few spiritualists who survived saw flashes — past, present, future — all mixed like a suffocating dream.
Niraga, sensing the growing imbalance, closed his eyes. Breathed.Then he ran to the Shrutakara.
"Not random sounds…" he thought."Sound with soul."
He touched the core of the machine.And it awakened.
First came the songs of birds, perched upon branches that existed only in memory.Then, the sound of a creek running between invisible stones.
Creatures stopped.Screams faded.Humans looked around, bewildered.
Then came the sound of children playing — their laughter echoing through the rift.Adult laughter beneath it.Living people. Happy people.
The atmosphere shifted.
And lastly, the rain.Not the rain that wets the skin…but the kind that washes the soul.
Everyone lifted their heads.Closed their eyes.And breathed.
Alaya, in a trance, kept her gaze fixed.Niraga touched her shoulder.
"Alaya…?"
She didn't respond.Just pointed.
Then Niraga saw.
Tribal.Lying like a newborn in the womb of the Earth.His immense body curled upon itself, covered in moss, roots, and wildflowers.He looked… asleep. Or awaiting.
"How much time has passed?" Niraga whispered.
Alaya answered with a trembling voice:
"Two thousand years."
Niraga widened his eyes, confused.
"Two thousand? But… we just entered the rift!"
Alaya scanned the space with a grave expression:
"The presence that lives on this side did this. It does not show itself. But it commands time.Now… it's time to release what was saved."
The rift opened.
Alaya had managed to save only five thousand lives.Humans. Creatures. Spiritualists.Few. But alive.
"If this was Tribal's plan… then it worked," she said firmly."We saved few, but life did not end. We will continue."
The Shrutakara was brought outside.And before everyone, it released its thousands of gigabytes of sound.
The planet vibrated.The sound touched the ground, the wind, the light.It was more than sound — it was memory in the shape of a wave.
And then, as if something ancient had been summoned…animals emerged from their hiding places.Covered in dust, mud, leaves — but alive.As if they had been hibernating since the Silence.
Life began again.
The survivors followed their paths.Each carrying an echo in their ears.A melody of who they once were.A promise of what they could become.
Alaya stayed.She knelt beside Tribal.Touched his moss-covered face.Gently brushed the green strands that grew upon his skin.
And with a voice as soft as the rain she had just released, whispered:
"My love…?"