After Satish's shocking betrayal, life at IITM took on a surreal haze for Amrit. Classes, meals, and campus life became mechanical motions. He went through the motions of being a student, but felt detached, his mind miles away. How could everything be normal? His heart ached with the memory of Satish's pained face when he struck him down. Amrit wondered if the real Satish had died somewhere amid that dark transformation.
He found himself haunted by nightmares each night. In these dreams, he was alone in a vast marble hall lit by a golden flame. Endless corridors stretched in every direction, each decorated with images of Shiva's tandava, Krishna's flute, battles of devas and asuras. In the center of the hall stood Satish's empty shoes, as if waiting for a return that would never come. Amrit knelt before them, pleading silently for a sign of life from his friend. A whisper answered him: Dharma... choose your path.
Amrit woke in darkness, tears on his cheeks. Choose your path. The words echoed in his mind. Was he to follow Satish's twisted trail or forge his own?
Days later, Amrit came to the deserted Shiva temple alone at dusk. The temple was old, carved with fierce gods and cosmic motifs. It was one of the few places on campus that still offered him solace. He sat cross-legged at the foot of the temple's steps and closed his eyes. Focusing inward, he let the elemental energies flow within him in a meditation that Satish had taught them.
The wind stirred softly around him, the stone beneath him seemed to hum. Amrit opened his mind to the Cosmic Dharma System — to listen. He needed guidance beyond his grief.
Before long, his meditation deepened. Amrit's consciousness drifted upward like a seed on a whirlwind, and he saw visions. He stood on a narrow pillar of light piercing a sea of stars. Above him towered an outline of a colossal deity — formless yet exuding immense age and power. The whispers of that being filled his mind: they were words from ancient Sanskrit hymns he had once read, about times before time and dharma's secret weave. The deity's voice resonated: "Paths diverge. One walks forward, one falls. What is your dharma, child of mortal coil?"
Amrit trembled. This was no mere dream. Was it a message from the system? He strove to speak, but only a trembling heartbeat answered.
In that suspended moment between realms, Amrit felt sorrow and resolve fuse inside him. He saw images flash: temples lost in jungles, a river of light flowing through darkness, an old monk offering a garland to a storm. The vision's meaning remained a mystery, but its emotion was clear: duty, sacrifice, and awakening beyond physical form.
When he awoke, the wind had died and the sunset bathed the Shiva temple in red light. Amrit wiped tears from his eyes. His shoulders felt heavier; the Cosmic Dharma System had called to him in cryptic ways. Whatever lay ahead, he realized he must seek knowledge of these hidden realms. Perhaps out there he would find answers about Satish's fate and the cosmic forces at play.
In the days that followed, Amrit quietly started researching. He was always a curious student, but now his thirst was deeper. He spent hours in the campus archives and ancient manuscripts, reading about the Lokas — planes of existence beyond the physical. Tales of Bhuvarloka and Svarloka, the sunlit heavens; Mahaloka, Janaloka, realms of sages and hidden cities; down to Patala, subterranean worlds of darkness and naga. The text spoke of the subtle bodies, karma binding souls to life and death, and wandering souls in between.
One evening, in the musty library basement, Amrit discovered a thin, leather-bound notebook with no author listed. Inside were scrawled notes and diagrams of mandalas, Sanskrit terms like Vishvamata, Rahu, Kundalini, and strangely, references to "Outer Taker of Dharma". His hand trembled as he read the final lines: "We opened the door... and it watched. Stay vigilant."
His heart thumped. It was a clue, however cryptic. Someone else knew or sensed the looming threat. It was as if the universe was leaving a breadcrumb for him.
That night, walking back to his dorm under a moonless sky, Amrit let his fingers trace the mandalas drawn in his notebook. Stars flickered above as if watching him. In the darkness, he made a silent promise: he would not run from this burden. If the cosmic dharma entrusted him with power, he would find its purpose.
Little did he know, distant underworld channels were stirring. Eyes made of swirling mist had marked the awakened ones. A silent pact among those in shadow decided: the hunters and haunted now walked the earth, and Amrit Kumar would be at the center of it all.
Feeling the weight of solitude and responsibility, Amrit knew he needed guidance. After the incident with Satish, he found it hard to trust anyone completely, but he wasn't entirely alone. Late one night, he remembered the old journal notes hinting at hidden paths. He decided to follow the clues.
Under the pale light of dawn, Amrit slipped past the empty dorm buildings and made his way toward an ancient temple ruin on the campus outskirts. This ruin had been said to be built during the early days of the university and was now overgrown with vines. In whispered student legends, it was once a shrine to Saraswati, the goddess of wisdom. Amrit's intuition guided him here.
Entering the ruin, Amrit murmured a Sanskrit invocation he had deciphered from the notebook: "Saraswati Devi, guide me to hidden knowledge." He knelt before a cracked stone statue. The ground around it began to vibrate softly as he gently placed the mandala-adorned notebook on the temple's floor.
Then, a faint golden glyph on the statue's base glowed, illuminating the ruined hall. In the dust of ages, a spiral pattern emerged on the floor— a hidden astrological chart. Amrit's eyes widened. It was a yantra of the sun and moon entwined, representing cosmic unity. He recognized the symbol from one of his dreams — the path under shifting skies.
Heart pounding, he reached out to touch the yantra. Immediately, a pulse of warmth ran up his arm, and an inner voice whispered a mantra clearly in his mind: "Vakratunda Mahakaya, Suryamuktanam…." The broken temple felt alive; the air hummed with invisible power. Amrit echoed the mantra aloud: "Vakratunda Mahakaya, Surya Kundalinee."
Then came a flash of light and a soft explosion of dust. When he opened his eyes, he stood beneath a sky full of unfamiliar constellations. He wasn't on campus anymore. He was lying on a smooth stone floor in a circle of shaded pillars. The air tasted sweet and ancient.
Amrit stumbled to his feet, heart pounding in astonishment. He had been transported. But where? The sky showed unfamiliar stars, arranged in patterns he didn't recognize. He realized, with a shiver of both awe and fear, that he had crossed into the astral plane.
Before him, arching in the distance, was a luminescent river flowing from the horizon toward a great city made of swirling light. The script on an archway above him read: Karmapatha — The Path of Karma.
He stepped forward tentatively, feeling the stone beneath his feet pulsing in time with his heart. As he approached the river, voices like gentle music sang from its waters. Each wave seemed to carry echoes of lives lived and lessons learned. Amrit felt memories he didn't recognize: people he must have been in another birth, wandering by this same river seeking redemption.
A figure appeared on the opposite bank — a spectral old monk in saffron robes, glowing faintly. "Amrit Kumar," the figure spoke in a voice both kind and distant. "You have opened the path. But the river of karma flows both ways. Are you prepared to face your past so that you may walk your destined future?"
Amrit swallowed. "I... I don't know." His voice trembled. The monk nodded. "Very well. Walk with me."
He crossed to the other side with ease as if the river was solid. Together they walked into a serene bamboo grove. Birds of pure light fluttered overhead. The monk motioned, and a vision played between the trees like a story. Amrit saw glimpses of his own life and those close to him: joyful moments with childhood friends, his family, but also moments he had hurt or been hurt by others. He saw ways in which his actions — jealousy, impatience, pride — had affected others.
"Tireless student of dharma," the monk intoned. "Karmic debts and merits live in the subtle body. You carry the seeds of all you have done. Embrace both, and your power will not consume you."
Amrit understood: the trials of the system were also revealing what lay in his soul. The weight of his karmic burdens was indeed heavy. He bowed his head, acknowledging his flaws. When he lifted it, the scene faded, and they stood before an altar.
On it lay a lotus-shaped key of silver light. The monk gestured toward it. "This key will open a realm hidden from mortal eyes. There, deeper truths await. But know this: corruption will hunt you, and the choices you make there may echo through all realms."
Amrit took a deep breath, then reached out. The Key of Karma fit perfectly in his palm. It felt like a living thing, its petals shifting.
As soon as he touched it, the grove dissolved and he found himself back in the ruined temple. Sunlight filtered through broken walls. The key had vanished, but in his hand was now a small silver locket etched with concentric lotus petals. The eerie quiet around him felt different – empowered but portentous.
He slipped the locket under his shirt pocket, chest swelling with resolve. He had crossed realms and learned the weight of his own karma. Betrayed friend, hidden temple, an astral river, a spectral monk — and now a key. So many mysteries, but he felt less alone knowing there was guidance beyond.
Whatever darkness lurked, Amrit was determined to keep walking forward on his path, every step mindful of the dharma he vowed to honor. The setting sun reminded him that the day was ending; it was time to return to the waking world and prepare for the journey that awaited with dawn.