The ancient chants surged to their peak. The Mandram Holders, drenched in sweat and locked in unshakable formation, pushed their voices beyond the edge of exhaustion. One final hum. One final breath.
And then…
THHHHHUUUMM.
The fourth door opened.
No dust. No roar. No divine blaze. Just a silence so thick, so suffocating, it slammed every soul present into absolute stillness. A silence that didn't feel holy—
It felt like death had entered the room.
Even the breeze held its breath.
No birds sang.
No hands clapped.
No voices dared to speak.
And somewhere, parked in the corner of the sacred grounds—hidden from every camera—Mirshad's eyes snapped open.
He didn't move. But his body turned rigid, tensed like a drawn bow. His pupils narrowed. Every cell inside him shifted, as though something ancient had just stirred awake. Rayyan, seated beside him, noticed immediately.
"Bro… what is it?"
Mirshad didn't answer right away. His gaze didn't land on the temple. It went deeper—beyond walls, beyond matter, beyond time itself.
"Why… does it feel like this door… is mine?"
His voice wasn't filled with confusion. It was laced with remembrance. Not of something seen. But something buried inside.
Rayyan froze.
And in that instant—he remembered.
The Tribunal.
The ancient book.
The voice of the old one echoing across the chamber:
"These doors are not made of stone.
They are the layers… of a forgotten god's soul.
Sealed by his own will… to forget.
Because if he remembers—time itself will lose direction."
Rayyan's hands curled into fists.
What if this isn't just a temple…
What if it's a doorway to him?
Inside the car, Mirshad suddenly gripped his chest. Not from pain—but from something else. A hum. A vibration. It wasn't violent. It wasn't electric.
It was… presence.
"There's something in me," he whispered.
"And it's… watching this happen."
Rayyan placed a calming hand on his shoulder, trying to veil the storm inside.
"It's nothing, brother. Maybe the tea we drank… was cursed."
He chuckled softly, but inside, his soul trembled.
"It's starting," he thought.
"The door he sealed… is listening to the world again."
Back inside the temple, the fourth door had fully opened. Light spilled into the air—but what stood behind it…
Was not a room.
It was another door. The fifth.
One of the Mandram Holders stepped forward cautiously, his hand trembling toward its surface. But before he could touch it—he stopped.
A sound.
A whisper.
But not from within.
Not from outside.
From the door itself.
"Not yet.
He's close.
But he still sleeps."
The Mandram Holder collapsed to his knees, shivering. The others rushed to him, but he barely found his voice.
"This is not… a normal room.
This… this is holding something alive."
Far from the crowd, Mirshad blinked.
And for a single moment—
He saw something.
Not his own reflection.
Not his body.
But a version of him… glowing like a sun made of stardust, wearing the crown of galaxies. A presence that stood at the edge of creation itself.
He gasped—and then it vanished.
He looked at Rayyan, his voice quiet. "What was that?"
Rayyan smiled, covering truth with warmth.
"Maybe the sky is just tired."
But deep in his chest, he already knew—
The god within…
Is watching his own doors open.
And it's only a matter of time
Before he wakes.