As soon as they arrived at the mysterious place, both Shivansh and Lucky stood still, their eyes widening in awe. The place was unlike anything they had ever seen before. Towering trees with golden leaves swayed gently in an invisible breeze, their glow casting an ethereal light on the ground. Birds with vibrant feathers, seemingly from another world, chirped melodious tunes. A river, clear as crystal, flowed serenely, reflecting the sky above, which was painted in hues of orange and purple despite it being night.
Lucky, unable to contain his excitement, nudged Shivansh.
"Bro, just look at this place! It's like we've stepped into another dimension! These trees..... I've never seen anything like them! And that river — why is it glowing? What kind of place is this?"
Shivansh, though equally astonished, remained quieter, his mind swirling with unanswered questions. He had expected something unusual, but this....this was beyond his imagination. Before he could respond, Lucky continued, his enthusiasm bubbling over.
"And look at those birds! Have you ever seen colors like that? I mean, what are they even made of– magic?" He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "This place is unreal, dude. Where the hell are we?"
Before Shivansh could say anything, the Yogi, who had been observing them silently, finally spoke, his deep voice resonating through the air like rolling thunder.
"Shivansh", he called, his gaze sharp and knowing.
Shivansh turned, sensing the weight in the old man's voice. Lucky, too, went silent, realizing that something serious was about to be revealed.
The yogi stepped closer, his piercing eyes locking onto Shivansh's. "You must be wondering why you are here... who I am... and why you have been experiencing things beyond the comprehension of ordinary men."
Shivansh swallowed, his throat dry. "Yes.... I don't understand anything. Who are you? And what is happening to me?"
The yogi smiled faintly. "You are not just an ordinary man, Shivansh. You carry the blood of a forgotten Lineage. A bloodline that has remained hidden for centuries, waiting for the right time to awaken. The powers you possess.... the abilities you have yet to discover.... are not mere accidents. They are your inheritance."
Lucky blinked, utterly baffled. "Wait, wait.... What? Inheritance? Are you saying he's some kind of chosen one?"
The Yogi nodded. "Yes. His destiny was written long before he was even born. But destiny alone is not enough. One must prove themselves worthy of the power they inherit."
Shivansh felt his heart pounding. "What do you mean? What power?"
The Yogi extended his hand, palm facing upward. Suddenly, from thin air, a brilliant golden symbol appeared, glowing like fire yet not burning. It hovered above his palm, shifting and reshaping as if it were alive.
"This", the Yogi said, his voice growing deeper, "is the the mark of your ancestors. The mark of warriors who once wielded divine weapons, Astra and Shastra, granted by the gods themselves."
Shivansh stared, mesmerized. The symbol pulsed, as if calling out to him. He could feel something stirring inside him– a strange familiarity, a connection.
"You have the potential to summon them", the Yogi continued. "But you are not yet ready."
Lucky let out a low whistle. "Okay..... now things are really getting insane."
Shivansh clenched his fists. "How do I become ready?"
The Yogi's expression darkened. "You must prove your mind, heart, and soul. Only then will you be worthy of unlocking your true power."
Shivansh exhaled sharply, realizing that his life was about to change forever.
As the weight of the revelation settled on Shivansh, the yogi took a deep breath and stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Shivansh's with an intensity that made the air around them feel heavier.
"It is time you learn the truth," the yogi declared. "You are not just any ordinary man, Shivansh. You are the last descendant of Shri Ram."
Shivansh's breath cought in his throat. His heart pounded in his chest as if trying to escape the weight of those words. "Shree Ram....?" he whispered, disbelief and shock evident in his voice.
Lucky, who had been standing beside him, took a step back, his eyes wide.
"Wait... you mean the Shri Ram? The one from the legends? That's insane!"
The yogi gave a solemn nod. "Your bloodline carries the essence of divinity. The legacy of Ayodhya runs through your veins. But a legacy is not just inherited, Shivansh – it must be proven."
Shivansh struggled to process the information. "But.... how? I've lived an ordinary life. I never had any of these so-called powers until recently."
The yogi raised his hand, and the ground beneath them seemed to tremble with an unseen force. "Because destiny has now awakened within you. And to fulfill it, you must be worthy."
Shivansh frowned. "Worthy of what?"
A sudden gust of wind swirled around them as the yogi extended his hands towards the sky. A deep, resonating chant filled the air – ancient, powerful, and beyond mortal comprehension.
From the heavens, a golden glow emerged, materializing into a magnificent bow – Shree Ram's divine Dhanush. The bow radiated with an energy so overwhelming that the very air crackled around it.
Shivansh's eyes widened in awe. Every fiber of his being told him that this weapon belonged to him. His hands itched to reach out, to claim what was rightfully his.
"Summon it," the yogi commanded.
"Channel the power within you and call upon your ancestral weapon."
Shivansh took a deep breath, his mind racing. He closed his eyes, focusing on the bow, willing it to come to him. The air grew still. Time itself seemed to pause.
And then..... nothing.
The bow remained suspended in the air, unmoving.
Shivansh clenched his fists, trying again.
He gritted his teeth, summoning every ounce of willpower within him. But the bow didn't respond.
Lucky whispered, "Why isn't it working?"
The yogi let out a slow sigh. "Because he is not ready."
Shivansh turned to him, frustration clear on his face. "What do you mean? I am ready!"
The yogi shook his head. "No, Shivansh. You have strength, but strength alone does not make a warrior. You lack control — over your mind, your soul, and your senses. Until you master yourself, you will never be able to wield this weapon."
Shivansh's shoulders slumped. He had always believed power was about force, about dominance. But now, it seemed... there was more to it.
The yogi placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Your training begins now. Only when you conquer yourself will you become worthy of your true destiny."
Shivansh took a deep breath. He could feel it– the path ahead would not be easy. But he had come too far to turn back now.
He clenched his fists, determination shining in his eyes.
"Then train me."
The yogi smiled. "Very well. Let us begin."