"Thousands of years, and thousands of wars. Million lives taken, million lives gone. Songs of warriors unsung, blood of soldiers ravaged. Summer heat and wildfire. The Lankan Flag triumphed over the clouds, ascending the tyranny & destruction to the hells and heavens. Gods and Monsters, O' the dwelling darkness remains, throughout generations, it lies and lies awake."

1000 years before the birth of Ajayraj Aditya, the Trinity Islands took aim for the throne of the Emperor, An ultimate throne in the greater skies, A throne which harnessed the Power of the Gods. This heavenly power, so destructive, concurred devotion - A wrath of war, a battle of immortality. This rotten devotion for power birthed hatred, spreading like an enormous fire in the forest, devouring every hint of solace that could remain.

"An old hag bears a sword nastier than the strongest,
to have survived in a profession where young men die like dogs."

--------------------------------

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍,
21 YEARS BEFORE THE BIRTH OF AJAYRAJ ADITYA

Corpses cloth the faraway landscape.

Soil bestowed crimson.

I look around weakly, my nails buried into my wound. I gasped for breath, my tormented bones trembling under my flesh. Sweat and blood make my eyes drown a harsh tint of red, an unforgiving burn punishing my sins with rage. The foul wind blows past my ear, a broken cadaver crackles upon my scalp. I trample over the corpses, making use of the Vijaya Dhvaja for support. With a muffled cough, I roar in pain that agonized through my tonsils, and like that I lance the Lankan Flag into the ground - before falling down on my feet.

My knees embrace the soil of Dhanchan, rained from blood, drenched in it as my rotten flesh immortalizes me in the midst of ancient wrath. Chariots, corpses and carcasses, a pile of my enemies. All dead. I burnt everything down to the ground, crushed the pride of my enemies , and those of my nation, to mere ashes. Dark clouds of despair growl, and blanket the golden sky. It begins to rain, the flag of The Land of Fire again ascends victorious. I close my eyes and so my heart closes, as pure drops of water coat my skin, relieving every terrible sin with blissful mercy I'd committed. I finally knew it was time - this war was over. My war was over.

-----------------------------------

"Wake up O' my precious soldier, you may need to wake up now..." a gentle whisper brushes against my ear, an all familiar tone, a vulgar myth, beautiful and eternal. "You found your way here...sooner than I expected." her dusk leans closer, her finger caresses my cheek. "Did my absence draw you here this early...my dearest?"

Everything is a blur - before a portrait of a lady came into picture - my eyes pent up in a shocked glare as I gaze at a recognizable face. Those eyes...I know these eyes, those blue seductive orbs. Long hair left open, cascading down her back...I knew I was here, I was finally here. If heaven looked like this, I'd gladly reside here amongst the Gods, even though their anger would burn me in my futile devotion. It all felt unreal, yet so full of truth and dignity at the same time that I couldn't feel the hurt, my wounds felt healed, and so have never my heart heeded so enlightened. The blur fades, and her ambience flutters upon my eyes, an image of my wife. I stare at her, violent waves of emotions flowing in my internal embrace. She smiles, and speaks in her reverent voice, "Even though...don't you believe...you're a little too early to be here with me, Gajanan?" I look at her grief-stricken. Then happiness clouds my mind, and a slight smile curtains my lips - my heart flutters from something disparate to rage, something I do not remember feeling in years. "For the Senapati of Lanka, I thought your people believed in you to be an undefeatable soldier, a warrior that could never lose." She crawls her lips closer to mine, locking her eyes with mine in an intimate affair.
"A prodigy, one who couldn't be killed, aren't I right?"

"In all of chaos, to have found your divine warmth again...how do I seem lost? "
I mutter, lovingly losing myself in her orbs, the scent of her breath washing over my flesh.
She chuckles, looking away, then slowly closing her eyes. She stays still, my eyes laid at her sacredly. I try getting up, but suffering strikes in my ribs again - and I hiss in pain. My home looks at me, with her dark eyes, and a beautifully grieved face.

She rests her hands against my chest, gently laying me back on my bed of flowers.
"My love..." she mutters, grazing her palm over my cheek. A guy feeling arise in my gut, the sinking feeling of letting go. The way she was holding my name between her teeth told me everything, her lips quivering alone with grief. But it was not for me to comfort her.

Waves of grief broke over her,
And she sobbed convulsively
But still she shed no tears.

The intensity of the cosmos. Her lips kiss mine into abyss. Her hair falls on my face, her fainted breaths blend with mine. She pulls back, looking down at me.
"I hope death finds you in the most beautiful of way,
that she welcomes you in flowers and festivals, bearing away the battle inside you..."
A dolorous oculus; two beings separated by the calculus of the universe.

- ❛ Your time isn't here yet, Gajanan...you need to head back home... ❜
- ❛ And where should I go, when you've always been my home, Uma...? ❜

And I saw your face, and your lips muttering
Your eyes whining like that of a child, and to my awareness
I knew you didn't want to let go, the burden of your duties
Had punished your flesh enough, though I wanted to embrace
You in my arms, You'd still always had to leave.

Your destination lies amongst the mountain of corpses,
Where the bull of death still awaits, to not let you in your
Bed of flowers, not yet an orchid of peace, not yet
Shall you reside in our garden of memories.

---------------------------

I flounced petulantly out of the pavilion and gaze at the night sky. The moon was full and gloomy, and in front of me lied a fireplace in the midst of a torrid rainforest, encircling around in the middle of nowhere. I see a young man clothed like a sage, sitting on a wooden log by the fireplace, all alone, carving down a piece of wood with a dagger.

His eyes flared a glow of red with his lips pursed deviously. I glanced at him, taking in a sharp breath. An Holy Thread tied all over his bare torso, a three-headed Rudraksha. He wasn't Lankan. Neither Dhanchani. A Kashian tribal.

"I see...you've woken up." the man takes notice, peeling his board in a rushed sculpture. His eyes sweep at me, as my hand tentatively reaches near my holster. I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my koduvalli, as I take a step forward. "You might not need that, Lankan." he sighed. I stare at him eagle-eyed, drawing out my weapon. "Who are you?", I asked, "And what am I doing here?"

The man chuckles, shaking his head mockingly as he goes back to knifing up his model. "The Senapati of Lanka, their Ghoul, as they say." he parroted, his chest heaving up a muffled snarl.

"Come and sit here, Lankan."

"Answer my questions first, Munivar." I insist.

The man smiles, then nods his head. "To know the answer, you must risk walking the path", he bellowed. This man, he is getting on my nerves. But I've to get out of this nowhere, to my men, to my army. I cautiously paddle over to the fireside, my grasp on the handle of my blade tightens. I took a glimpse of his hands, as he continues etching a sculpture, trace fragments of wood needled into his fingers. He licks his wounds, then looks at me. I set myself on the block, pointing my koduvalli at the Sage. He rolls his eyes and smirks, before going back into his bustle, observing with attention every detail as he chisels the sculpture.

"I found you in Dhanchan...", he mumbles, "...Resting on your knees, bestowing the soaked crimson ground, amongst an army of corpses." His blade caresses sharply edges into minute horns, peeling violently the back into a rough hump.

"You were almost out of your life, clinging onto the Dhvaja of the Mighty Lankan Flag." He apes, off the back into a rough hump. "I was surprised to see, your vital senses still blurring between your rugged breathings." A burdened sigh escapes his lips. "To my fascination, I operated on you on an educated guess, and somehow, brought you back to life."

My eyebrows push together, a tense growl pasts my lips "To your fascination...is it? And what do you hope to achieve, by bringing me back to life..." , I pause, "Considering you're a Kashian sage."

He halts his blade steadily, as the pallid sand tempers and the wind wraths.

"From the Night of Chaitra to the Ashadha Dusk..." The Sage views the sculpt, amorous pandemonium bittering in his eyes. Intervention, Anger, and Vengeance, all jammed in those longing eyes - "...Your people came in...to Kashi."

The sound of battleships whirring, demons roaring, loud creaking of wind.

"For more power...For Vasuki."

Soldiers stomp over torrid soil as War Cry deafen the skies.
Trumpets of Tyranny awaken the Hells.

"Burnt my village..." The Doctor takes in a deep breath. "Massacred my clan." his dull eyes stare down his blooded hands, "Killed my brothers..."

Children hold onto their last toys, Women wail in dread.
Amongst agony runs an angel for her life, chased by hungered hounds.
Her feet smudge into ichor sodden in dirt, she tramples, falls.
She looks up, tear-eyed, praying to her God with mud clenched teeth.

"Your monsters..." his voice breaks as he clutches his model harshly, the sharp edges of the potter bleeds into his fingers.

Swords slit innocent throats, muffled cries haunt the room
A burning corpse hugs another burning corpse in her arms,
Singing sorrowful lullabies to a weeping infant tangled in flames.

"You...destroyed everything I loved." his lips quiver, his eyes burn ire.

Starving Dogs tear her little wings part-by-part
Strip her off her flesh, wreck her bones against holy ground
She weeps and wails on the Land of Gods, she cries for help

Monsters giggle like children, burying their teeth into her burnt skin
Runs a man over to the harbor- limping around the ashen temples

Melted roads smear into the soles of his feet, yet he runs faster again.

His tears get kissed by the flares in the grave of the fireflies, And
His lips cry out for hope, his lips cry out for his lost heart.

"When I came there..."

"Nothing remained."

Why is it that the shameful skies weep after every war
Like they wait for their tears to descend down on Earth

A futile helplessness occurs, to show a sad ancient admiration

When they caress the tortured skins of those that perished, as
Selfish clouds those who have sinned, grieve over what their decided fate.

"RADHA!" I cried her name, roaming around the burning village. Tears drown my eyes in grief. Blood drips down my nose. I call out her name, once again. Then once again, again and again.

Radha. Radha. Radha.
My child, please be there.

I'm here, searching for you.
Hang on, I'm coming for you...
Your old man needs you, my pari...

Your old man needs you to come back.

I cannot live without you.... You're the only one I've got.
Come here to my arms. Come here.... I'll keep you safe. I'll find you.

I cough, inhaling in air, but poison comes. My eyes burning red, my chest feels heavy. I can't breathe, an unbearable stinging pain flowing through my body.

"BABA!" her voice reaches my ear - the sound of her scream. I turn my head around, as my feet start jolt over the molten road. I hurry towards the chauraha on the verge of tears - I feel her near me, but even then there is pain. Not the pain of the burns that hurts, not the wounds, not the toxin that fills my lungs; but the pain of hearing her cries - the thought of something happening to her is what scares me.

Thunder starts to rumble, it begins to rain.
The night sky is red, the moon glooms in sadness.

"All I could do was just stare blankly...", Gajanan looks at him haunted by conscience, as he continues...

Thunder growls louder,
Two men face each other in the choler of a wrinkled tree,
One stares stoic, other stares back in agony.

"And one thing I knew that day..." the Doctor of Dhanchan turns his head slowly towards Gajanan, as he looks lifelessly at him.

The man screams and wails on terror of his lungs .
He cries bitterly out of grieve, as he falls into his knees.

Thunder roars- Green Eyes shine into the darkness.

"...was that I found my biggest enemy..."

Lightning strikes in the crimson clouds
As the man wails in terror, he looks up frightened.
He saw amongst himself, naked corpses hanging to the long olden branches,
And beneath somewhere lied a corpse of an Angel, bare and scarred, lifeless.

Gajanan and The Doctor stare into one another's eyes.

The man roars in wrath, his voice breaks the sky.

"You."

In front of him lied, a shadow of

A ten-headed monster with green eyes.

As War Elephants trumpet fiercely, obnoxious victory fills the air.

Soldiers stomp, howl and rejoice. Chanting the name in war cries.
All Hail the Senapati, All Hail the 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐚.

..........

"I didn't want this to happen."

Bakshi looks at the naked corpse of his daughter tear-eyed. He brings her off the trunk of the ancient tree, his nails burying into her wound. He gasps for breath between his tears, as he felt her tormented bones trembling under her flesh.

"It's too late to apologize, Lankan."

Tears and blood make his eyes drown a harsh tint of red, an unforgiving burn punishing away his sins with rage. The foul wind blows past them, a broken cadaver crackles upon her scalp. He looks down at her, flaring his noses into a muffled cough, before breaking down pathetically.

"Your God may excuse your actions..."

Parth carries her in her arms over the ashes of his motherland, of his village, trampling over the mountain of corpses. He looks at his heart one last time, before burying her body in her bed of flowers, in the carcass, of her soul. He buries her with her wings,
In a heaven where no one will find her.

"But do not expect the same sympathy from me..."

Red eyes, filled with grief and rage.
Even the Gods tremble.

"And when the right time comes...
I will kill you...with my own hands."

He thuds the sculpture on the log of wood, as he walks his way out of the fireplace. He mounts on his astride, grabbing the rope as he wears a cloak over his head. Bakshi hauls the rope. The horse brays as he kicks the hides, before bolting out of the landscape, into the dark gloomy night.

Gajanan gets up, walking towards the log. He picks up the model, and stares at him.
He glares into the distant forests. His hand trembles and bleeds, his eyes suppress into remorse.

He tosses the model into the bonfire, before pacing towards the pavilion.
In the fire burns a wooden design - An idol of The Bull of Death.

............

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATENCE AND YOUR LOVE ON CHAPTER ONE
APOLOGIES FOR THE LATE UPLOAD, LIFE'S A MESS.

SEE YOU AGAIN, IN
{ 𝐌 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐀 𝐍 }

PART ONE : GODS AND MONSTERS
iii. TEMPLE OF ETERNITY