The divine city of Aarvanya pulsed with energy as gods, demigods, and mortals gathered at the ancient Gate of Descent — a sealed portal buried deep beneath the floating realm, hidden for eons even from the gods themselves.
This gate, Ash explained, was the only known passage into the Void Realm, the prison that held the Old Ones.
Its stone was made of fused timelines, inscribed with celestial runes that shimmered in all languages at once. It hummed with power — and dread.
Ash stood at the head of the group. His aura had stabilized — no longer flickering uncontrollably, but now calm, condensed, and frighteningly dense. He carried no weapon. He was the weapon.
Behind him stood his loyal companions — Sarina with her golden bow, Akarshan wielding a spear of crystallized light, Shiv and Monish with their hybrid elemental blades, and Shivam and Anuj in advanced magical armor forged by the goddesses themselves.
Ravanaari approached. "Once you cross, your presence will awaken the Old Ones completely. There is no turning back."
Ash nodded. "That's the idea."
The gods and goddesses watched in tense silence.
Bhumi Ma whispered to Agneyi, "He is not just their hope… he's ours."
Ash placed his hand on the gate.
Immediately, the ground trembled. Space twisted. The portal split open—not like a door, but like reality tearing apart.
Beyond the veil was not darkness—but absence. A cold, silvery nothing where concepts like time, color, and even thought became unstable.
Sarina held his arm. "Ash… are you sure you can face them again?"
Ash looked into the void.
"No," he said. "But I remember them now. And I remember what they feared."
He stepped in.
His friends followed.
One by one, they entered the Void Realm — where gods had no dominion, where even light and gravity had no meaning.
Inside, the landscape changed constantly. Floating islands of broken realities drifted aimlessly. Oceans of shattered memories lapped at the sky. Echoes of destroyed worlds whispered as wind.
As they ventured deeper, a presence began to stir.
A colossal eye blinked open in the horizonless void.
A voice, deep and multi-layered, vibrated through them.
> "So… the wayward spark returns. Ash of the Rebellion. The Lost Child of Creation."
The eye stared directly at Ash.
> "Have you come to join us… or perish with your creation?"
Ash didn't flinch.
"I've come to end you. Permanently."
The void laughed.
> "You cannot destroy what was before destruction. We are not your enemies. We are your beginning."
And from the shifting fog of unreality, a shape began to form — a godlike figure towering over mountains of memory, made of stars, bone, and raw time.
The First Old One had awoken.
Ash's eyes lit with divine fury.
"To protect what I made… I'll do what even eternity feared."
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