Aryavart : The Eternal Quest

 The bustling streets of Pantharpur, a sprawling city filled with merchants, warriors, and mystics from across the lands. Towering spires and ancient domes rise above the chaotic marketplace, where the scent of exotic spices, incense, and smoldering oil fills the air. The streets are alive with traders shouting prices, street performers dazzling crowds, and whispers of secret dealings in the alleys

Arya, Vaishnavi, Sachin, and Ravi step through the massive stone gates of Pantharpur. The moment they enter, they feel the weight of the city's history pressing upon them—this is a place where fates are decided, and legends are forged.

Ravi clings to Arya's arm, her eyes wide as she takes in the overwhelming sights. Vaishnavi scans the surroundings with a warrior's caution, while Sachin sighs, already frustrated by the sheer volume of people pressing in around them.

Sachin (grumbling): "This place is a madhouse. Where do we even start?"

Vaishnavi (calmly): "We need supplies first. And information."

Arya (nodding): "Let's split up. Stay sharp—Pantharpur is known for its secrets."

They weave through the chaotic marketplace, passing fortune tellers reading star charts, masked mercenaries bargaining for weapons, and mystics selling talismans of questionable authenticity. Ravi stays close to Arya, unusually quiet, as if the city itself makes her uneasy.

As they move past an old relic stall, an elderly sage, wrapped in a weathered orange robe, suddenly locks eyes with Ravi. His face goes pale with shock, his hands trembling as he nearly drops the sacred scrolls he was carrying.

Sage (whispering in horror): "Impossible… she should not exist."

A chill runs down Arya's spine. He instinctively moves in front of Ravi, shielding her. But before he can question the old man—

—the sage suddenly turns and disappears into the dense crowd, vanishing between merchants and wandering monks.

Vaishnavi (stepping forward, tense): "Did you hear that? What did he mean?"

Sachin (annoyed, looking around): "Great. First a strange girl, now cryptic old men. I hate this city already."

Ravi tugs at Arya's sleeve, her expression confused but… also frightened. Arya places a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Arya (firmly): "We'll find him again. He knows something."

As Arya turns to continue searching, something flutters to the ground at his feet—a torn parchment, inscribed with ancient symbols that seem to pulse faintly with an eerie glow. The sage must have dropped it in his hurry to escape.

Vaishnavi picks it up carefully, examining the symbols.

Vaishnavi (frowning): "This writing… it's old. Too old. This isn't just some temple script—this is something else."

Arya takes the parchment, staring at the unfamiliar sigils. They feel oddly… familiar, like a half-remembered dream.

Ravi (softly, staring at the symbols): "I… know this."

Everyone turns to her in shock.

Arya (urgent): "You remember something?"

Ravi's small hands tremble as she touches the parchment. The moment her fingers graze the surface, the symbols flare to life, glowing like molten gold—then just as quickly, they fade back into stillness.

Ravi (shaking her head, voice unsteady): "No… I don't know how. But I… I feel like I should."

A tense silence falls over them.

Sachin (quietly, to Arya): "Who the hell is this girl?"

Arya (clenching the parchment, looking out over the city): "We need to find that sage. Now."

The mystery deepens. Who is Ravi? Why does she feel connected to Arya? And why does the world itself seem uneasy at her presence?

The temple stood at the heart of Pantharpur, its towering pillars carved with inscriptions older than recorded time. As Arya, Vaishnavi, Sachin, and Ravi stepped inside, a strange stillness settled over them. The air smelled of ancient parchment and burning incense, and distant chants echoed through the dimly lit halls.

A group of monks in saffron robes watched them in silence, their eyes filled with both curiosity and caution. At the far end of the temple, seated on an ornate stone throne, was Acharya Devadatta, the temple's enigmatic head priest. His face was lined with age, but his presence radiated undeniable authority.

Devadatta eyed Arya and the others as they approached, his gaze lingering on Ravi for a moment too long. Then, Arya produced the torn parchment they had recovered. The priest took it with trembling hands, his eyes scanning the symbols carved onto its surface.

As he read, his expression darkened, and his grip tightened. His lips barely moved as he muttered:

"This… should not exist."Arya frowned. "What do you mean? What does it say?"Devadatta exhaled sharply, then leaned forward, his voice a grave whisper:"This is the script of the First Abyss… the knowledge that was meant to stay buried."Sachin stiffened. "The First Abyss? You mean the origin of all Abysses?"The priest's eyes bore into Arya. "Where did you get this?"

Arya hesitated. He wasn't sure if he should reveal the truth, but before he could speak, Ravi—who had been silent until now—stepped forward. Her small hand reached out toward an ancient stone slab embedded in the temple floor.

The moment Ravi's fingers brushed the stone, an explosive pulse of energy shot through the chamber. The temple groaned as if it were alive, and the ancient runes covering the walls blazed to life, glowing with a golden radiance unseen for centuries.

A low, resonating hum filled the air. The monks recoiled in shock. Devadatta himself stood abruptly, his voice sharp with alarm:

"Stop her! Do not let her touch—"

But it was too late.

Ravi's eyes widened in shock, as if something deep within her had awakened. A single phrase escaped her lips, one she did not understand yet felt as if she had spoken before:

"The wheel of fate… turns again."

The moment she spoke, the temple's stone pillars cracked, and the sacred flames flickered wildly. Arya rushed to Ravi's side, pulling her away from the slab just as a violent gust of wind swept through the chamber.

The energy subsided as suddenly as it had appeared. The runes dimmed. The temple fell silent.

Devadatta's face was pale with fear. He whispered as if speaking a forbidden truth:

"She is… a Remnant."

Arya's heart pounded. "What do you mean?"

The priest looked at Ravi with an unreadable expression. Then, with a sudden urgency, he stepped forward and gripped Arya's arm.

"Listen to me carefully. You must leave this temple at once.""Why?" Vaishnavi demanded. "What is happening?""Because you are being watched."

The weight of his words settled heavily over them.