"In the halls of death, truth wears no face."
---
Asma-Ra and Vāma-Sattva ascended the golden staircase, each step forged from the ashes of forgotten sins. The air grew still—thicker than silence, heavier than prayer.
At the summit, a pair of obsidian doors waited.
Carved into them were scenes of agony and grace: a child stealing food, a god weeping over mortals, an asura sacrificing his immortality.
The doors opened, not by touch—but by acknowledgment.
---
They entered Yama's Hall, where time hung like incense and the floor reflected memories instead of stone.
At the center sat Yama, the Lord of Dharma, his skin the color of ancient bark, his eyes deep like the final sleep. One hand held the staff of judgment, the other a mirror that showed not faces—but intent.
But Yama was not alone.
Behind him stood his court—a circle of judges never spoken of in scriptures:
Chitragupta, the scribe who records every breath.
Vajrani, the silent goddess of consequence.
And Mara, cloaked in doubt, whispering in Yama's ear.
> "You come not as souls," Yama said, "but as disturbances."
---
Vāma-Sattva stepped forward.
> "We seek no pardon. Only truth."
Yama turned to Asma-Ra.
> "You wear the face of Rohu—breaker of patterns, dancer against destiny.
And you carry fire… born not of destruction, but of memory."
The mirror in Yama's hand shimmered.
It showed Asma-Ra leading an army in a past life—burning temples. Then a life as a poet who starved for truth. Then a beast. Then a monk. Then… a shadow.
> "Why do you disturb the balance now?" Yama asked.
Asma-Ra stepped forward. His voice was steady, yet beneath it churned lifetimes of silence.
> "Because balance has become tyranny.
Because the cycle no longer teaches—it cages.
Because gods who once guided now demand worship."
The court fell into silence.
---
Chitragupta stepped forward, unrolling a scroll that extended through eternity.
He read aloud a moment from Asma-Ra's current life:
> "He let a dying priest finish his final hymn before slaying him. Mercy… wrapped in rebellion."
Mara laughed softly.
> "He is dangerous."
Vajrani, however, spoke only one word:
> "Necessary."
---
Yama stood.
> "Then I offer a path. Not forgiveness. Not favor.
But a trial—one walked only by those who seek to reforge law itself."
He raised his staff.
A doorway split the hall open—revealing a land made of memory and myth, where time flows sideways and even gods forget their names.
> "Enter the Valley of the Forgotten.
There, you must find the Three Shards of Dharma—each shattered by a rebel soul.
Only then will you earn the right… to challenge the roots of the Ashvattha."
Vāma-Sattva bowed.
Asma-Ra, without a word, stepped into the fog.
And the door closed behind him.
---
END OF CHAPTER XVIII
Next: Chapter XIX – "The Valley Where Even Gods Are Forgotten"