Kartik’s soul drifted—timeless, formless, suspended in the chaos before creation.
He had no body. No voice. But within him burned a strange awareness, like a spark stolen from a forgotten fire.
And then… the river came.
A celestial Ganga, flowing through the cosmos, filled with stars, ancient mantras, and the stories of uncountable worlds.
He floated near it, drawn by something older than memory.
From its center, a lotus bloomed. And on that lotus, they appeared.
Brahma, seated upon the lotus, surrounded by scrolls and time-wheels.
“You are not bound to one birth, Kartik Rawat,” he said.
“You carry the mark of the recycled soul—a spirit passed through epochs.”
Vishnu appeared next, calm and vast, his conch humming with eternal music.
“You have come from the future into the past, and shall walk both timelines.
You will know comforts of the modern age, but carry duties of the old world.”
Mahadev, with ash upon his skin and silence in his breath, opened one eye.
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“You are the knot in time that even gods must watch.
Your clan has slumbered, but you… you will awaken the bloodline.”
As Kartik tried to understand, the void lit again.
This time, it wasn’t fire or river—it was light shaped like a woman, her form shifting between Durga, Kali, Saraswati, Lakshmi, and then something beyond them all—Adi Shakti, the supreme feminine force.
She stepped across the cosmic water and placed her hand over Kartik’s forming spirit.
“You are my child of Shakti and Sankalp—will and power,” she said.
“You were not born by chance.
You were sent. A ripple sent backward, to rewrite what was broken.”
“In your past, your clan was noble.
In your present, it is forgotten.
In your future… it will rise.”
Kartik’s soul trembled—not in fear, but awe.
“Why me?” his thought whispered.
The goddess smiled, infinite and gentle.
“Because you asked, long ago.
You wanted strength. You wanted honor for your name.
And so, the universe answered… not with ease, but with a chance.”
The gods stood together now, their forms pulsing with creation itself.
“This is your first rebirth,” Brahma said.
“But not your last.”
“Guard the sacred thread,” said Vishnu.
“It binds your soul across lives.”
“Remember the silence before your first breath,” whispered Shiva.
“It will guide you in chaos.”
And the Goddess said:
“We are with you. But only you can awaken your legacy.”
The Ganga surged.
The lotus closed.
And Kartik fell—like a star—back into the darkness of the womb, the divine marks now sealed inside his spirit.
Outside, Meera Rawat stirred.
The wind outside the hut whispered through the hills of Garhwal.
A new soul was coming.
And the gods were watching.
Let me know when you’re ready for Part II, where nature reacts—the animals, the sky, the priestly lineage—all sensing something ancient being born again.