PRAGYAN woke with a jolt, sweat clinging to his hair as sunlight stabbed through the blinds like it had personal vendettas. GREAT. ANOTHER MORNING. ANOTHER DAY WHERE THE UNIVERSE DECIDES TO MESS WITH ME BEFORE BREAKFAST. His heart thumped, a rhythm that didn't belong to this world—or maybe it did, but in ways humans weren't meant to feel. Lightning crackled faintly through the clouds outside, but it wasn't just weather. It had intent. It had judgment. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. He swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his eyes. The apartment smelled faintly of old coffee and dust. THE ORDINARY LIFE OF A MORAL MORTAL. He grimaced. Somehow, he doubted he would survive it.
Memories—or were they dreams?—assaulted him immediately. Lightning rained from the heavens. INDRA'S EYES BURNED INTO MINE. THE SEALED LOKA QUAKED BEHIND ME, ITS SHADOWS WHISPERING ANCIENT SECRETS. And yet, he was alive. Not just alive. Almost bored. Almost. The ache in his chest, the familiar weight behind his ribs, reminded him that survival had always come at a price. And then, as always, his father's face appeared: calm, smiling, knowing something he hadn't yet understood. Dad… why did you smile like you knew everything? Like you had seen the end of the world before it even began? The memory burned brighter than the sunlight, sharper than the lightning threatening to strike the city skyline. What did you see before you left me?
Breakfast was an exercise in futility. One samosa in the fridge. Perfect. Fuel for a mortal who apparently attracted divine attention for fun. Pragyan muttered, "YEP. DEFINITELY NORMAL LIFE STUFF." He shoved it into his mouth, grimacing as stale crumbs fell onto the floor. The air in the apartment felt heavier than usual, almost aware of him. As if someone—or something—was watching, gauging him. He smirked. Figures. They always are.
By the time he stepped outside, the clouds had shifted. Not like normal clouds. These were deliberate, almost choreographed in the patterns of an ancient war long forgotten. Lightning flared and vanished, shadows warped unnaturally, and the faint pulse at his chest grew stronger. Pragyan tilted his head, If you're gonna send divine warnings, at least send a memo I can ignore. The street was empty enough to let the tremor in the air reach him fully. He could feel the world bending, waiting, like it wanted to see what he would do next. Yup. Totally normal Monday.
College was predictably chaotic. Friends were late. Professors droned on about subjects that had zero relevance to surviving divine wrath or accessing a sealed loka. Pragyan sat quietly, hands in pockets, scanning the sky through a small window. The world is bigger than you think, Pragyan, he muttered to himself. Memories of the sealed loka flickered in his mind: shadowed corridors, walls carved with symbols older than Sanskrit, whispers of battles older than kingdoms, echoes of asuras screaming in realms that didn't exist anymore. And only I can see them. Exclusive access, indeed.
Lunch brought no relief. A samosa, some tea, and the usual chatter. Pragyan sighed as he set his tray down, noticing the pulse again. Something was moving, almost alive. A small ripple of air, a distortion in space—a scout. A minor Asura, daring enough to tread into the mortal plane. Students screamed. Birds scattered. Teachers froze. Pragyan smirked. Amateurs.
With a single glance, he calculated the distance, the trajectory, the angle. One step. One precise flick of intent. THE AIR SNAPPED. THE GROUND CRACKED. THE ASURA DISINTEGRATED INTO NOTHING BUT SMOKE AND A WHISPER. Students froze. Teachers gawked. Birds didn't even dare return. Pragyan tilted his head, grinned, and muttered, Didn't even break a sweat. Monday well spent.
And then… the subtle thrill of it: the faint, almost imperceptible tremor above. Lightning hung in the clouds, suspended midair. INDRA'S EYES NARROWED.This one… might actually survive my training.
Far beyond the reach of mortal eyes, somewhere where time itself bent like soft clay, KRISHNA SMILED. The boy awakens earlier than I expected… Interesting. His gaze was calm, amused, filled with secrets no human could touch. The mortal is stirring. Let's see how far he can go.
Pragyan leaned back against a wall, eating his samosa, nonchalant. Well… at least I'm early for class. The world shifted slightly around him, as if acknowledging that a mortal among Devas had just shown his teeth.
And yet… the pulse didn't leave. It lingered, wrapping around him, whispering in tones only his blood could hear. Sealed loka.Father.Indra.Krishna.Asuras. Names without form, intentions without clarity. And still, it was waiting. Testing him. I swear… if the universe expects me to die before lunch, I'm gonna be really annoyed.
By the time he reached class, fragments of memory surfaced again: his father, teaching him small lessons in cosmic balance, always smiling even in danger. "If the gods ever look at you differently, Pragyan… don't kneel." The words echoed through him, steady, a shield and a warning. Pragyan smirked again. Guess that's why I'm still standing.
The bell rang. Pragyan found his seat. Nothing in the room seemed special. Nothing, that is, except the air. It hummed faintly, as if holding its breath, as if the universe itself leaned in closer to watch him. He twirled his pen between his fingers, thinking about the sealed loka, the Asura that underestimated him, the gods above, the father who left him a map of destiny hidden in his bloodline.Yeah. Totally normal day.
But the pulse grew stronger. Closer. As if destiny itself was threading its fingers through him, testing the strength of the mortal it had decided to remember. Pragyan's heart surged. Not fear. Not excitement. Curiosity. That terrible, thrilling curiosity that drove mortals to challenge gods. He grinned. Well… looks like the boring part of life is officially over.
And above, a flash of lightning split the sky, thunder rolling like the footsteps of armies long gone. Somewhere, a seal stirred. Somewhere, a shadow laughed. The boy had awakened.