"Here, time remembers nothing but what was lost."
---
The fog clung to Asma-Ra like the breath of a dream not yet finished. The Valley stretched before him, a labyrinth of twisted trees, shattered stones, and rivers that reflected not the sky, but what the soul has forgotten.
The air was heavy with silence, but not an ordinary silence. It was the silence of things that should have been remembered—of promises made, and broken, and never spoken again. The scent of old incense lingered, mingled with the faint, distant echo of chanting—now gone cold.
Asma-Ra's feet did not touch the ground. The valley itself seemed to shift beneath him, as if the land were alive and recalling his past steps.
---
Vāma-Sattva appeared beside him, his fire now dim, barely a flicker against the dense fog.
> "The Three Shards of Dharma were once the foundation of the universe.
But as the world twisted, as chaos crept in, these shards were shattered by those who dared defy their path."
He paused.
"This is the place where even gods lose their names. A place where rebels and broken promises come to rest."
Asma-Ra could feel the weight of it. This valley—this forsaken graveyard of gods—was not just a physical place. It was a mirror.
> "What is it you have forgotten?" Asma-Ra asked, eyes scanning the horizon.
Vāma-Sattva did not answer immediately. Instead, he gazed into the dense fog, as if searching for something he knew would never return.
> "I forgot that rebellion is never truly defeated. It merely hides, wears a new face, waits for the right moment."
---
Ahead, the valley seemed to open up, and in the center of a desolate lake stood a ruined temple, its doors shattered as though blasted by a storm of memories. On the temple's steps lay the first of the Three Shards—a fragment of pure crystal that shimmered like a star that had fallen from the heavens.
Asma-Ra stepped forward.
Suddenly, the fog parted, and before him stood a figure.
The man was tall, with the golden skin of a god—Indra, the once mighty king of the heavens, his thunderbolt broken, his eyes vacant.
> "You seek the Shard," Indra said, his voice a hollow echo. "But first, you must answer: what is the price of defiance?"
Asma-Ra felt a shiver, as if the question were not for him alone, but for all who had rebelled.
Vāma-Sattva stepped in front of Asma-Ra, a protective wall of flame. But it flickered weakly against the weight of Indra's presence.
> "We know the price of rebellion. We know the cost of defying fate," Vāma-Sattva said quietly.
Indra's gaze turned toward him—there was recognition. Not of the monk, but of the spirit that lived inside him.
> "And yet, you still carry the burden," Indra mused.
"Even in death, your soul clings to what it could have been."
---
Indra raised his hand, and the sky above them darkened—lightning arced across the horizon, a reminder of his lost power.
> "To claim the Shard," he intoned, "you must forgive what has been broken."
Asma-Ra stepped forward again, this time his voice resolute.
> "I seek to reshape what was broken. Not to forgive it."
Indra's eyes narrowed, his face contorting with an ancient sadness.
> "Then the price is your soul."
---
The lightning cracked. The sky trembled.
But instead of a storm, there was silence.
Indra's form shuddered. The fog closed in on them, but the god's face blurred, becoming something less.
---
Suddenly, the first Shard of Dharma pulsed—its crystal surface vibrating with the force of the answer. A gust of wind swirled around Asma-Ra as he reached for the Shard. His fingers brushed the edge—and in that instant, he felt a crack inside his own soul.
For a heartbeat, he saw himself in every life he had lived—each mistake, each choice, and the truth of his existence.
The Shard crumbled in his hand.
And he saw, for the first time, the fragmented soul of Indra, broken not by rebellion—but by regret.
---
> "You have your first Shard," Vāma-Sattva said quietly, stepping forward. "But the journey has only begun. The Valley will not give its truth so easily."
Asma-Ra turned away, the second Shard already calling to him—its glow a distant memory of a life he had forgotten.
And somewhere in the depths of the valley, something stirred. It was not a god, nor a titan.
But a shadow.
---
END OF CHAPTER XIX
Next: Chapter XX – "The Shadow That Knows No Name"