I am Anant. The Eternal. I am the silence before the first note of creation, and the echo that will remain when all else fades. From the void, I wove the tapestry of existence—the shimmering realms of Swarg, the shadowed depths of Patal, and the fleeting, beautiful chaos of the mortal world.
I established order. I gave them rules.
Good shall reside in Swarg, where the air smells of lotus pollen and the rivers flow with liquid starlight. Evil shall fester in Patal, where the rivers run with molten regret and the skies weep embers. The Devas, beings of light and discipline, were the guardians of virtue. The Asuras, creatures of fire and fury, were the embodiments of chaos.
And I decreed one law above all: They shall not mix. A Deva shall love only a Deva. An Asur only an Asur. It was the cornerstone of my cosmic balance. For millennia, it held.
I watched as countless souls lived, loved, and died within the boundaries I had set. I saw empires of light rise and fall in Swarg. I witnessed dynasties of shadow claw for power in Patal. It was… perfect. Predictable.
I was wrong.
Perfection is a cage. Predictability is a lie. I, the creator of all, had failed to account for one single, unpredictable force—a force that would seep through the cracks of my divine design and threaten to unravel it all.
Love.
Not the dutiful love of a Deva for Swarg, or the possessive love of an Asur for power. But a reckless, defiant, all-consuming love that looked upon my sacred laws and laughed.
It began with a glance across a battlefield drenched in celestial blood. It was a day like any other, another clash in the eternal war. The air crackled with the clash of divine steel and demonic fury. But on that day, two warriors, destined to be enemies, found something else.
On one side stood Prince Advik of Patal. He was not like other Asuras. Where they saw only conquest, he saw artistry. Where they felt rage, he felt a thrilling, untamed joy. He fought not with mindless brutality, but with a dancer's grace and a tempest's heart. His eyes, the color of smoldering amber, held not just malice, but a deep, unspoken curiosity for the light he was born to destroy.
Across the field stood Shaurya of Swarg. The perfect warrior. His form was a living scripture of celestial combat, every move precise, calculated, and flawless. He was the Council's pride, a paragon of discipline and duty. His eyes, like pools of calm, ancient starlight, saw the battlefield as a complex equation to be solved.
Their weapons met in a shower of sparks that seemed to hang in the air a moment too long. It was not just a clash of elements, but of souls. Advik's wild, instinctual strikes were a question. Shaurya's disciplined, unwavering defense was an answer. In that brutal, beautiful dance, a silent conversation began.
Who are you?
I am your enemy.
Then why does your blade feel like a revelation?
They parted when the battle horns called for retreat, but the thread had been spun. A forbidden connection, fragile yet unbreakable, now tied the Prince of Shadows to the God of Light.
I saw it. I felt the tremor in the fabric of my creation. A crack in the foundation.
They began to meet in secret. In the neutral voids between realms, under the guise of patrols or reconnaissance. They spoke not of war, but of their worlds. Shaurya described the serene, structured beauty of Swarg's gardens. Advik spoke of the raw, untamed power of Patal's volcanic forges. They were two halves of a single truth, discovering that light and shadow are not enemies, but companions.
And with every stolen moment, every shared smile, every brush of a hand that sent jolts of lightning through their divine forms, they chipped away at my grand design.
Their love was a quiet rebellion. A beautiful, terrifying crime.
The Council of Elders, the austere guardians of my celestial order, sensed the disruption. They saw the distraction in Shaurya's eyes, the softening of his rigid discipline. They saw the way Advik's fiery ambition was being redirected, not toward conquering Swarg, but toward understanding one of its inhabitants.
An edict was passed. Cold. Unyielding.
Separation.
They were to be assigned to opposite corners of existence. Their bond was to be severed for the "greater good."
When the command was delivered, Shaurya accepted it with the stoicism expected of him, his heart turning to ice within his chest. But Advik… the storm within him broke.
"This is not the end," he whispered to Shaurya in their final, desperate meeting. "I will find a way. I will break every chain they forge."
"You will only get yourself destroyed," Shaurya pleaded, his voice raw.
"Then I will be destroyed loving you," Advik replied, his eyes burning with a terrifying, glorious resolve. "It is a better fate than living without you."
He looked at me then, though he could not see me. He looked up at the heavens, his gaze challenging the very stars I had placed in the sky.
And I, Anant, the architect of this universe, felt a sensation I had not known in all my eternal existence.
Doubt.
My rules were clear. My law was absolute.
But as I watched the Prince of Shadows vow to tear down Heaven for love, and the God of Light begin to build a prison of duty around his own heart, I knew.
This was not just their story anymore.
This was the beginning of my failure. This is the story that broke my rules.
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End :
He vowed to break Heaven for love. He chose to bury his heart for duty. And I, the creator who forbade it all, could only watch as the first domino fell, leading to a fall that would echo for five thousand years.
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