The Last Rudra

His father looked at him. For the first time, Oman had seen the pride in his eyes for him. 

"You've proved me wrong, son," said he, smiling. Oman could still recall the warmth of his hand on his shoulder. 

"Take this, it is yours now." He placed a silver key on his palm. Puzzled Oman examined tiny key. Alien runes were engraved o

n it.  He couldn't make out of them, so he glanced back at his father. but he was not there. The divine Vimana, his ancestors, and Ayaan, all had vanished. Oman found himself falling down like a meteor. 

The next moment he was

in his bed, sweat-drenched and gasping for breath. They had left him alone in this cruel world, fumbling. 

For a long time, Oman kept staring out of the window as if his soul had left his body. Two big drops had rolled down on his checks. He couldn't recall when he had cried last time, but that night he felt like a toddler abandoned by his parents in a wilderness. He wanted to scream . He didn't want the cursed throne, he didn't want to be a lord. All he wanted was them to come back. 

However, Had anyone ever been able to come back from the kingdom of white-wives?

Oman pulled himself together, hearing the distant wailing of four years old Drona, the boy who had lost his parents.  Padma and other maids were trying to soothe him. 

Oman sighed as he decided to take a walk in the orchard, for he knew sleep would not come again, at least not that night. 

For a long time, Oman kept staring out of the window as if his soul had left his body. Two big drops had rolled down on his checks. He couldn't recall when he had cried last time, but that night he felt like a toddler abandoned by his parents in a wilderness. He wanted to scream . He didn't want the cursed throne, he didn't want to be a lord. All he wanted was them to come back. 

However, Had anyone ever been able to come back from the kingdom of white-wives?

Oman pulled himself together, hearing the distant wailing of four years old Drona, the boy who had lost his parents.  Padma and other maids were trying to soothe him. 

Oman sighed as he decided to take a walk in the orchard, for he knew sleep would not come again, at least not that night. 

He donned his cloak and stepped out of his chamber. It was then he heard whispers. 

Bewildered he swept his spiritu

However, Had anyone

ever been able to come back from the kingdom of white-wives?

Oman pulled himself together, hearing the distant wailing of four years old Drona, the boy who had lost his parents.  Padma and other maids were trying to soothe him. 

Oman sighed as he decided to take a walk in the orchard, for he knew sleep would not come again, at least not that night.  al sense. The stone walls were whispering. 

Oman's first thought was that he was hallucinating. He would have paid a visit to  Nimohi if Amora hadn't told him that he wasn't. 

The house-anima, whose origin no one knew, brought him to this rusty door. 

The golden door clanked open, revealing a carpeted corridor. Oman took a deep breath, despite tending the palace for a decade, he still felt uncomfortable entering the ancient palace. 

He left his slippers out and stepped in. Like always, Amora magically turned into a tangible person.  His hawk-like eyes looked more intimidating. The scarred face man with fiery hair had put on a golden cloak. 

On his first visit, the house -anima's strange transformation had startled Oman.  Amora chuckled as he explained the cause. 

The opulence palace, whose walls were gold platted and covered with exotic murals, was not in the same dimension as the old castle. Here, tangible and intangible coexisted together. 

Oman had frozen to his spot when he saw two boys chasing each other, their laughter echoing in the grand hall. The two boys were none other than him and his brother Ayaan. When he got over his surprise, he looked towards Old Amora, who smiled and replied, 

"A memory and nothing! Old Cira sometimes likes to cling to things. You shouldn't mind that. Follow me, it is time you to know the secret, that your ancestors haven been safeguarding for eons." 

They crossed a floorless corridor, avoiding the uncanny beings roaming all over the place like apparitions. 

"What is the place?" asked Oman, looking scenes flickering in the air all around. 

"Inna's Palace or as Mitras called it, prision of Vela." replied Amora sighing. 

"Who is Vela?"  Omas asked as he saw his blood soaked sister, Gayatri, taking the last breath in a scene. It was like he had entered in his brain and was watching his memories. 

"You will soon know" all th

e old man said as he led him out of the gaint gate. 

Oman had roamed practically half of Varta. He had seen myraids uncanny things --he had spied on nymphs. He had watched ghosts' gory wedding feast. He had been to Yama's circle. 

But he had never seen the things that was floating in the air up in the dark night. 

****

His father looked at him. For the first time, Oman had seen the pride in his eyes for him. 

"You've proved me wrong, son," said he, smiling. Oman could still recall the warmth of his hand on his shoulder. 

"Take this, it is yours now." He placed a silver key on his palm. Puzzled Oman examined tiny key. Alien runes were engraved on it.  He couldn't make out of them, so he glanced back at his father. but he was not th

ere. The divine Vimana, his ancestors, and Ayaan, all had vanished. Oman found himself falling down like a meteor. 

The next moment he w

as in his bed, sweat-drenched and gasping for breath. They had left him alone in this cruel world, fumbling. 

For a long time, Oman kept staring out of the window as if his soul had left his body. Two big drops had rolled down on his checks. He couldn't recall when he had cried last time, but that night he felt like a toddler abandoned by his parents in a wilderness. He wanted to scream . He didn't want the cursed throne, he didn't want to be a lord. All he wanted was them to come back. 

However, Had anyone ever been able to come back from the kingdom of white-wives?

Oman pulled himself together, hearing the distant wailing of four years old Drona, the boy who had lost his parents.  Padma and other maids were trying to soothe him. 

Oman sighed as he decided to take a walk in the orchard, for he knew sleep would not come again, at least not that night. 

He donned his cloak and stepped out of his chamber. It was then he heard whispers. 

Bewildered he swe

pt his spiritual sense. The stone walls were whispering. 

Oman's first thought was that he was hallucinating. He would have paid a visit to  Nimohi if Amora hadn't told him that he wasn't. 

The house-anima, whose origin no one knew, brought him to this rusty door. 

The golden door clanked open, revealing a carpeted corridor. Oman took a deep breath, despite tending the palace for a decade, he still felt uncomfortable entering the ancient palace. 

He left his slippers out and stepped in. Like always, Amora magically turned into a tangible person.  His hawk-like eyes looked more intimidating. The scarred face man with fiery hair had put on a golden cloak. 

On his first visit, the house -anima's strange transformation had startled Oman.  Amora chuckled as he explained the cause. 

The opulence palace, whose walls were gold platted and covered with exotic murals, was not in the same dimension as the old castle. Here, tangible and intangible coexisted together. 

Oman had frozen to his spot when he saw two boys chasing each other, their laughter echoing in the grand hall. The two boys were none other than him and his brother Ayaan. When he got over his surprise, he looked towards Old Amora, who smiled and replied, 

"A memory and nothing! Old Cira sometimes likes to cling to things. You shouldn't mind that. Follow me, it is time you to know the secret, that your ancestors haven been safeguarding for eons." 

They crossed a floorless corridor, avoiding the uncanny beings roaming all over the place like apparitions. 

"What is the place?" asked Oman, looking scenes flickering in the air all around. 

"Inna's Palace or as Mitras called it, prision of Vela." replied Amora sighing. 

"You will soon know" all the old man said as he led him out of the gaint gate. 

Oman had roamed practically half of Varta. He had seen myraids uncanny things --he had spied on nymphs. He had watched ghosts' gory wedding feast. He had been to Yama's circle. 

But he had never seen the things that was floating in the air up in the dark night.