Before the stars,
before gods,
before life had a name — there was Añura.
Not Shakti.
Not Aether.
Not Ka, not Chi.
All those are just names factions gave it later, to make sense of something too big to hold.
Añura is the source.
The subtle thread no one sees.
The breath between moments.
The pulse under everything that moves.
The Devas called it Shakti.
The Greeks called it Aether.
The Egyptians called it Ka.
The Chinese called it Chi.
But only the oldest gods — and only one mortal — will know its real name.
That mortal is Kunal.
After lifetimes spent in other names,
after carrying fragments of war, duty, love, loss —
Añura stirs in him now.
And this time, it won't stay quiet.