They say that in this universe created by God, anything is possible. But if there's one thing that's truly impossible—it is the union of fire and water.For they are complete opposites in nature and essence. And if, by some strange coincidence, such a union does occur... its outcome is nothing short of catastrophic.
Far away in the realm of Earth, nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas, something was unfolding—something that could bring grave danger to the future.
"Slashhh!!"A sharp sound rang out. A pointed sword sliced through a man's throat. As his warm blood spilled onto the cold snow, the pristine white was painted a deep red.All around, countless corpses lay scattered. Soaked in blood, the snow appeared as if wrapped in a crimson shroud.At the edge of that pile of bodies stood a woman, holding a naked sword. Her blade, too, was drenched in blood—now entirely crimson.
She walked forward, crushing the bodies beneath her feet, her expression calm and unfeeling—as if the dead meant nothing to her. Never before had the Himalayan peaks witnessed such a massacre.
Her eyes were still—like a deep, placid lake. She wore a long robe made from white sheep's wool, now dyed red with blood.She stopped at a spot, slowly lifted her eyelids, and saw—at some distance—thousands of soldiers, armed with fearsome weapons, forming a circle.All their eyes were fixed on her.
"One thousand... Who's next?"She spoke coolly, beckoning with her fingers toward the soldiers.
Then, in a shocking move, she dug her sharp nails into her chest, tearing it open. From within, a golden aura burst forth, illuminating the area.
She declared, "This is what you want, isn't it? The Demon's Golden Heart!!"
Nayantara stood tall like a lioness in front of the entire army. Inside her chest beat not an ordinary heart, but the Golden Heart of a Demon—a heart that once belonged to evil, but held the power of the divine.
This heart, safeguarded by the gods in heaven for centuries, had one day fallen to Earth due to the mistake of heaven's gatekeepers. It found refuge in Nayantara's body.
Why such a powerful relic chose her, out of all beings in the world, remained a mystery to Nayantara. But she accepted her fate. She devoted her life to protecting it—sacrificing everything in the process. Her parents, her brothers, her loved ones—all gone.And now, her own soldiers stood before her as enemies, ready to snatch it from her.
Looking at them, Nayantara smiled and said, "Come forward. Fight me!!"
But none of them dared step ahead. Approaching Nayantara meant walking into the arms of death.
Suddenly, the sound of boots echoed. A man strode confidently toward her. Recognizing the sound, the soldiers parted, allowing him through. Soon, he stood right in front of Nayantara.
She said, "You? So, it was you behind all this?"
"Yes! And I had no choice. I need that heart—give it to me... or I will take it after killing you!"
Nayantara could not believe it—the one she trusted the most, the one she considered her everything, now stood as her enemy.
She raised her sword. So did the man.
But in the next moment, something no one could have imagined happened.
Nayantara pierced her own chest with her sword.
A massive explosion followed. So bright, it blinded everyone.
Golden light spread across the area, and when it faded—there was only silence. An infinite, haunting silence.
Nayantara's body was gone. No one knew where it had vanished—or where the Golden Heart had gone.
Seeing this, the man cried out loud, "NAYANTARA!!"
In the foothills of the Himalayas, her death brought eerie stillness.The man, the one for whom Nayantara had taken her own life, now stood atop a peak, staring down into the abyss below—where only swamps remained.If she had survived the fall, the swamp would've devoured her by now.
Tears welled up in his eyes. Defeat was written on his face.
Just then, a man in royal robes approached and said,"Prince Marich, I believe it's time we return to the palace."
Marich looked at him and replied, "Minister Virat... it's hard to believe that we were so close to victory—and yet, we lost."
Minister Virat, a wise and seasoned advisor, replied, "My prince, sometimes what we see as defeat is simply another form of victory."
"No, Virat! We've lost. The Golden Heart slipped through our fingers. There's nothing left now but darkness," Marich snapped.
Minister Virat calmly answered,"If one door to victory closes, another always opens. I understand your pain, but lingering here is of no use. Let's return to the palace. Together, we'll find a way forward."
Marich agreed. There was no point in staying.With his army and Minister Virat, he departed.
Meanwhile, the news of Nayantara's death spread like wildfire across the world. No one could believe that she had taken her own life.What shocked people most was the betrayal—by Marich, the man she was believed to love deeply. Their love was legendary—couples swore oaths in their names.
Now the world knew: Marich never loved Nayantara. He only wanted the demon's heart.
For the world, Nayantara—the brave queen, the fierce warrior—was gone.
But someone believed she was still alive.
Far in the east, in a small village, inside a wooden hut, a young man lay bound in bandages.Earthen pots burned incense around him. In front of him sat an old man, chanting a desperate prayer:
"Oh soul trapped between two worlds—return! This body awaits you! There is no other path—you must return. Take this body. It is yours."
As he spoke, violent winds rose outside. The sun vanished, and heavy rain poured from the skies.
Then, a spirit wrapped in white appeared and spoke to the old man,"Why are you offering me this body? I don't want it. I don't want to return."
The old man replied, "You must return! I will not give this boy's body to a demon. I'm calling you to claim it. Take this form—and take your revenge."
The spirit answered, "No. I won't. I cannot return to this world."
But the old man insisted, his eyes wild with blood. He drew a blade and slashed his hand, offering a drop of blood to the spirit.
The spirit entered the boy's body. Instantly, his body stirred. Smoke filled the hut from the burning incense. And when the smoke cleared—the boy was awake.
The bandages were gone. He was around twenty-one, fair-skinned, strong-built, and tall.
The boy sat up and asked,"Why did you do this? Whose body is this? Who are you?"
The old man only smiled, tears streaming down his face, silently admiring the boy. But the boy's mind was full of questions.
He asked again, "Who are you? Whose body is this?"
Before the old man could answer, blood spurted from his mouth. He began to gasp for air, choking.
The boy screamed, "What's happening to you?!"
The old man couldn't speak anymore. Only one word escaped his lips—"Nayantara's... diadem..."And then he died.
His body vanished into thin air—like smoke—and left behind only mysteries for the boy.
Has the Golden Heart perished with Nayantara?Why did Prince Marich betray her love?Who was the old man—and who is this mysterious boy?
The answers lie ahead... in the next tale.