Somewhere between the valley of two forgotten mountains, where even animals fear to wander.
A cave whispered.
Where neither rustling of wind nor the trickle of underground water. No, it was something deeper- more ancient. As though the monstrous cave walls themselves were alive, murmuring the remnants of long forgotten evil chants and screams of souls that no longer existed. Twisted roots hung like the gnarled fingers of the dead, and strange glowing veins of crimson light pulsed faintly through the blood stones, like arteries feeding something unholy.
Within that hollowed cave, beyond illusions and illusions layered to infinity, a figure floated—neither alive nor dead. Suspended in time.
His name had once echoed through the heavens like a divine decree.
Now it was just a whisper within his own head. Even that was fading.
His form shimmered faintly in the dim golden haze, a soul no longer tethered to flesh. His long spectral robes, reminiscent of a long-lost celestial warrior order, drifted around him in slow, ghostlike waves. Once radiated soul with golden divine aura—now dulled by centuries of wear from the oppressive force binding them all.
He stirred, his brows twitching faintly as pain knifed through the core of his existence. He winced, then chuckled—a dry, humourless sound that echoed strangely in the silent cave.
"Again? Already?" he whispered.
"At the beginning no one come to fight with us but It's like from past few years I can feel from the aura that the demonic territory is again established and they started to send their soul here to kill us."
He blinked. Faces emerged in his mind. Some he remembered by name. Others, just by feeling.
His closest companion and main wife Vaidehi.
Once enlightened soul that her smile used to light up his world. Now, even her soul was flickering near end.
His hand—the ghost of it—moved in front of his face. Translucent. Fractured. Lines of radiant cracks ran across his palm, each one a reminder of how much of his essence had been poured out—not to fight—but to preserve. To heal. To hope.
It hadn't always been like this.
Once, Vaidharik had been revered. A beacon of strength. The leader of the Spiritual Guard of Vaidharma, a sect older than civilization, formed not to conquer—but to balance. He'd led celestial warriors, sages, beasts of legend and various other spirit creatures. Together, they fought a war that threatened to tear apart the fabric of all planes—against the demonic race of the Narkhvi, who fed on spirit and their light.
The final battle had been their triumph. But victory had come laced with treachery.
They were ambushed during retreat. His subordinates—noble spirits and mutated beast and humans alike—were ensnared in a cursed formation. One created through blood sacrificial ritual of millions of souls—designed not to kill, but to entrap the soul.
Since those demons couldn't kill. So they did the next worst thing—they bound their souls in this eternal cage during the final battle. That cursed war... It wasn't just a battle; it was a massacre. Thousands of warriors fell. Innocents bled.
On occasion of helping them Vaidharik had made a split-second decision.
He abandoned his physical bodies, unleashing his spiritual forms to shield his wounded spirit soldiers from the trap's battle intent.
And along with him all his wives, concubines, friends, students, and beasts all did the same.
With their help some escaped. Most didn't.
And those who stayed?
They were still here.
Vaidharik's eyes drifted upward. Not that there was any ceiling—just a swirling dome of forbidden enchantments so ancient and evil that even in his full power he couldn't decipher them anymore.
Runes drifted across the surface like silent guardians. Or wardens.
His soul flared faintly.
Soon a ripple of dark mist coalesced into form—a demonic soul. Crimson eyes glowed within a body shaped like shadow forged from violence. Horned, clawed, and pulsing with rage.
But it wasn't strong.
Vaidharik had fought hundreds and thousands of them.
He raised a hand. The air distorted. An ethereal golden blade materialized, forged of his will and pain. As the demon lunged, he moved like water, swift and divine. One slash. A second. Silence returned.
The creature dissolved into ash and whisper.
But he didn't celebrate.
There was nothing to celebrate anymore.
Because the more they fought the more they lose their soul essence
In the shadows, others stirred.
"He's weakening again," came a voice. Soft. Female.
Vaidehi stepped forward. Her form was even dimmer than before. Once, she had shone with soft lavender light—a beautiful echo of her human self—but now, her edges blurred. She was unravelling.
Vaidharik turned, the ghost of a smile on his face.
"Still spying on me, my love?"
She tried to smile. But it trembled.
Soon another flickering soul come beside supporting him, Kiyana.
"You give too much of yourself to protect us dear."
"It's the only thing I have left to give," he replied gently.
Vaidehi stepped closer, brushing her fingers against his dull face. They passed through each other—but warmth lingered for a second.
"When your light goes out, who will lead them?"
Vaidharik sighed and looked beyond her—toward the five remaining spirits soul behind, each glowing faintly. Of all his students, friends, and acquaintance now only five of them remaining.
And behind a white-winged serpent soul on the verge of extinction curled protectively around his personal disciple Rahul continuously feeding him her soul essence in order to save him.
The boy had once tamed her. Her name had been Shaari. But soon She had vanished, gifting all of herself to him during his near-death. Now Rahul barely spoke.
Vaidharik's gaze hardened. "I'll find a way. Even if it costs me everything."
Vaidehi didn't argue. She just leaned closer, forehead to his chest. An old gesture. A habit from when she had breath.
"You always do," she whispered.
The cave trembled.
Vaidharik felt it. Not just the vibration—but something deeper. A disturbance in the spell's matrix.
Hope?
No. That feeling had left him long ago.
This time also nothing different.
And now again another wave of demon had arrived to challenge them. They always know it was their end.
But its a saying that the light only enlighten on the verge of end.
Something had changed.
A gap in the formation. A weakening? No—it felt intentional. Like a call. From beyond. Familiar, faint… but deliberate.
He turned sharply. "Vaidehi. Take the others. Hide them in the lower formation ring."
She blinked. "Why—?"
"Something's reaching out."
She obeyed without question.
Yaksh rose slowly, his presence expanding near extinction. For the first time in decades, he pushed all of his accumulated energy outward. Not to heal. Not to preserve. But to save others.
The whisper came again.
A name. A pendant.
His pendant.
The Golden Dragon.
His soul pulsed. That pendant had been the vessel. The key. His final contingency.
Someone had found it.
The story was about to begin again.
"You asked who I am?"
His voice carried into the empty chamber, as if someone beyond the veil might hear.
"I am Dharmatma Vaidharik. Last Guardian of Vaidharma. And if you're reading this… then the seal is breaking."
The era of new beginning.
Soon he wrapped all of his subordinates in his energy field and escaped through the thin gap of the formation formed due to earlier disturbance of the matrix.