The faint, golden light slowly transformed into a vast sky.
A cool breeze brushed against Siya's skin.
The silence of the forest surrounded her once again—the same ancient forest, the same enormous tree standing beneath the endless sky.
The same place where her journey had begun.
For a moment, Siya simply stood there.
Then the memories came rushing back.
Fragments of her childhood.
Faces she had almost convinced herself she had forgotten.
Moments she had buried deep inside her consciousness.
And then—
him.
His presence appeared within those memories as clearly as if he had never left.
His face.
His help.
The moments when he had stood beside her.
The memories she had tried countless times to erase.
Yet they remained.
I could never erase those memories.
Perhaps I could never erase him either.
He had become a part of her life that had somehow attached itself to her existence. No matter how far she tried to run, no matter how deeply she buried the past, it always found a way back to her.
Not because it wanted to hurt her.
But because some memories refused to die.
Siya slowly approached the ancient tree.
Behind its enormous trunk, she noticed something unusual.
A faint, golden glow.
It was barely visible at first—just a tiny shimmer leaking through the darkness.
But there was something strange about it.
Something familiar.
Something almost... divine.
Siya stepped closer.
Her eyes fixed upon the light.
The moment she looked directly at it—
FLASH!
A sharp beam of golden brilliance struck her eyes.
She instinctively closed them.
For several seconds, she could see nothing but white.
Then—
Silence.
Siya opened her eyes.
The forest was gone.
The cool breeze had disappeared.
The warmth of the sunlight had vanished.
She was standing inside a dark room.
Completely dark.
There were no windows.
No doors that she could immediately see.
No sound.
Nothing.
The darkness seemed different from ordinary darkness.
It felt alive.
As though the room itself was pulling at her consciousness, trying to drag her deeper into it.
Siya slowly turned around.
Nothing.
Then—
A sound.
A faint sob.
Someone was crying.
Siya froze.
The sound had come from one corner of the room.
She began walking toward it.
One step.
Then another.
The sobbing grew clearer.
And there, curled into the darkness, sat a black silhouette.
Its head was lowered.
Its shoulders trembled.
It was crying.
Siya stopped a few feet away.
"Who are you?"
The figure didn't answer.
Siya took another step.
The crying suddenly stopped.
Silence swallowed the room.
Then a voice emerged from the shadow.
"Why did you come here?"
Siya's expression hardened.
The voice continued.
"You should never have returned to your past."
Before Siya could react—
SLAP!
The shadow struck her.
Siya staggered backward.
Her eyes widened.
She looked at the figure again.
Slowly, the silhouette raised its head.
And Siya realized something was terribly wrong.
There was no face.
No eyes.
No mouth.
No recognizable features.
Only smooth, empty skin where a face should have been.
Siya stared at it.
And suddenly—
she understood.
It wasn't a stranger.
It wasn't a monster.
It was her loneliness.
The loneliness that had once imprisoned her.
The emptiness that had followed her through the darkest years of her life.
The part of herself she had spent years trying to escape.
Siya didn't move.
The shadow remained motionless.
Then Siya noticed something behind it.
A door.
A door that hadn't been there before.
She walked toward it.
Her hand touched the handle.
She opened it.
A completely different world waited on the other side.
A beautiful garden stretched beneath a clear sky.
Flowers covered the ground.
Soft sunlight illuminated the trees.
The atmosphere was peaceful.
Almost impossibly peaceful.
Siya stared at it.
For the first time, she wondered—
Was the darkness really trying to trap her?
Or was it forcing her to confront something she had spent years refusing to see?
Elsewhere — Kashi
Mahārishi stood in deep thought.
The conversation he had shared with Siya before her meditation continued to replay inside his mind.
Ashwatthama noticed his silence.
"Mamashri?"
Mahārishi didn't respond.
Ashwatthama approached him.
"What happened? What are you thinking about?"
Mahārishi finally looked at him.
"Siya."
Ashwatthama's expression changed.
"What about her?"
Mahārishi exhaled slowly.
"She told me something before beginning her meditation."
He paused.
"She said that the one she intends to bring back is no longer a physical being."
Ashwatthama listened carefully.
"She described her as energy... perhaps a soul. Her original body was destroyed long ago while she remained trapped within Siya's memories."
Mahārishi's expression became increasingly serious.
"She asked me to create a body for her."
Ashwatthama's eyes widened.
"A body?"
"Yes."
Mahārishi looked toward the distant horizon.
"If she is to return to this world—to exist within the physical realm—she needs a vessel capable of sustaining her consciousness."
Ashwatthama remained silent for a moment.
"And what is the problem?"
"The body."
Mahārishi's answer was immediate.
"If we had an ordinary human body available, we could theoretically alter its biological structure and attempt to restore life within it."
He paused.
"But there is no suitable human body."
Ashwatthama frowned.
"Then create one."
Mahārishi looked at him.
"You say that as though it were simple."
"I didn't say it would be simple."
Ashwatthama's expression remained calm.
"But perhaps the answer lies within our own ancient knowledge."
Mahārishi narrowed his eyes.
"What are you suggesting?"
Ashwatthama replied,
"Do what Mother Parvati once did when she created Ganesha."
Mahārishi's expression immediately became skeptical.
"Ashwatthama, I can create a figure from clay, earth, or another material. But creating a living human body from it is an entirely different matter."
He shook his head.
"That is impossible."
Ashwatthama smiled faintly.
"Perhaps for you."
Mahārishi stared at him.
Ashwatthama continued,
"You don't need to complete the entire process alone."
"Then who?"
"Hanumant."
The name changed the atmosphere instantly.
Ashwatthama's voice became firm.
"Perhaps his Sanjeevani knowledge—or whatever remains of that ancient science within his consciousness—can provide the missing link."
Mahārishi remained silent.
Ashwatthama stepped closer.
"You create the vessel."
He looked toward the meditation chamber where Siya had disappeared into the depths of her consciousness.
"And leave the task of giving it life to Hanumant."
Mahārishi's eyes narrowed.
For the first time, the impossible idea no longer sounded entirely impossible.
A body had to be created.
A soul had to return.
And somewhere between ancient divine knowledge and forbidden science, a new existence would have to be born.
Mahārishi finally spoke.
"If Siya succeeds in bringing her back..."
He looked toward the chamber.
"...then we must be ready when she returns."
Neither of them knew what would emerge from Siya's memories.
Neither knew whether the soul waiting to return would come back as the person Siya remembered—
or as something entirely new.
And deep within the darkness of Siya's consciousness, the forgotten past had already begun to awaken.