Chapter 1 (part 2)

The scooter rumbled beneath Ramana and Subramanyam, the engine a steady hum against the quiet countryside. Ramana, however, was miles away, his mind still fixated on the sage.

If that old man was nothing but a vision, then the Lord Venkateswara's golden chain should be too, he mused, his fingers instinctively brushing the pendant at his neck.

He looked down. There it was, the familiar weight of the Lord Venkateswara Swamy's golden chain, the holy symbols of Shanku and Chakra catching the morning light.

 And faintly, as if whispered on the wind, he could almost hear the reverberating 'Om' that had accompanied the sage's vanishing act. It felt far too real for a dream.

"Bro, what do we do first after we get to the city?" Subramanyam's voice cut through Ramana's thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

"Find a rental apartment room, of course!" Ramana replied, his tone clipped.

Subramanyam scoffed. "So, you have money to pay?"

Ramana shot him a look. "Yes, ra, I have money. And if we can't pay, we'll find a part-time job. Now, sit tight, I can't control this thing with you bouncing around!"

The scooter swerved slightly as he spoke, emphasizing his point.

"Okay, bro! Okay, chill," Subramanyam mumbled, settling down, though a mischievous glint remained in his eyes.

The camera swept across the grand cityscape, a sprawling expanse of medieval European architecture carved from stone and timber.

From high above, the city unfurled like an ancient map: winding streets teemed with life, the faint clamor of daily routines rising to meet the sky. Houses and buildings, tightly packed, gave way to bustling market squares where merchants’ cries mingled with the laughter of children and the chatter of buyers.

Then, the view shifted, drawing towards a colossal structure that dominated the horizon. It was a royal palace, immense, occupying nearly half the city's sprawling footprint.

Behind it, a vast, meticulously manicured garden stretched like a green velvet carpet, dotted with fountains and shaded pathways. Beside the palace lay a huge training ground, dust motes dancing in the sunlight above sparring figures.

The city itself was protected by two formidable walls: an outer perimeter, stout and high, encompassing the common districts and public spaces, and an inner, even grander wall, encircling the entire royal complex—palace, garden, and training grounds alike—a massive testament to its importance.

This was the Kingdom of Calveria.

Scene Shift

King Edwric turned, his gaze sweeping over the assembly. His voice, usually measured, held a rare tremor of anticipation.

"Gentlemen, the time has finally arrived. We have waited for years... now, it is about to be fulfilled!"

Selene and Eva exchanged a quick, wide-eyed look, a shared jolt of shock and surprise passing between them.

Selene stepped forward, her voice hushed, almost reverent.

"I’ve been waiting for this ever since I was a child. So, the prophecy... it's going to be fulfilled? Our protector... he's going to arrive today?"

The King's stern features softened into a rare smile. He simply nodded, then gestured to the rows of unlit candles lining the hall.

"Let the hall be filled with light!"

"I will touch the first candle," Selene declared, her hand already reaching.

Her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she touched the wick, and a small flame blossomed, chasing away a sliver of the gloom. The servants followed her lead, and soon, the vast hall was bathed in a warm, golden glow, revealing multiple frescoes adorning the walls and ceiling.

Each fresco depicted a fierce warrior, his face a blend of determination and power, battling grotesque demons.

He wore a golden chain on his neck, and unfamiliar symbols, mysterious and undecipherable to them, marked his forehead and back.

Selene stopped before one particular fresco: the warrior stood triumphant, a golden mace in his hand, the same enigmatic symbol emblazoned on his forehead.

A memory flashed, sharp and vivid, pulling her back through time.

Her ten-year-old self stood here, in this very hall, her small hand clasped in her father's larger one. She gazed up, fascinated, at these very frescoes for the first time.

Her father's voice, deep and comforting, told her about the ancient prophecy, the stories of the legendary savior who would come to protect them in the future.

She listened, wide-eyed, a spark igniting within her young heart. He became her ideal.

She took inspiration from his stories, from the prophecy itself, and from that day on, she trained with a singular purpose—to become a warrior just like him, to be ready to help him fight the demons when he finally arrived.

Now, at twenty-two, she stood here, the echoes of her childhood dreams surrounding her, the long wait finally at its culmination.

Selene’s eyes, still fixed on the fresco, were bright with a mix of awe and burgeoning excitement as she turned to Eva.

"Can you feel anything new? Any unusual energy in the city?"

Eva closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating, then shook her head slowly.

No... I sense nothing unusual yet, Princess. But I will remain alert."

King Edwric's smile widened, a paternal pride in his gaze.

"Selene, control yourself. He will definitely arrive today. That’s what the prophecy says."

Selene's gaze drifted back to the warrior in the fresco, a hopeful sigh escaping her lips.

"Eva, what do you think he looks like? Tall? Strong and powerful? Just like the frescoes?"

Eva looked from Selene's earnest face to the painted hero, a soft smile gracing her own lips.

"Princess, we can't say anything until we see him with our own eyes. But I am truly happy to see that smile on your face again, like this."

Selene glanced at her friend, then looked back at the fresco, a genuine, joyful smile finally blossoming fully on her face.

Scene Shift

The drone of the scooter filled the air, a familiar comfort, but Ramana's thoughts churned with the sage's mysterious words. He was snapped back to the present as the sky above them curdled into an unnatural, bruised black. A low, distant growl filled the air, rapidly escalating into a terrifying roar that vibrated through the very ground. Ramana's eyes widened, tracking the monstrous form twisting into existence directly ahead: a black tornado, coiling like a serpent, tearing at the distant trees.

"A tornado?" Ramana breathed, his voice thick with disbelief. "Never seen one on our village's outskirts before." He jammed his foot down, forcing the scooter to a sudden, skidding halt. "Subramanyam, what should we do now?"

Subramanyam, his face pale, gestured wildly at the swirling vortex. "What's your big plan, Ramana? Do you think this is some kind of cool drink advertisement on TV or something? Let's go back, now!"

A jolt of grim realization hit Ramana. "Yes, that's it! Hold tight!" He stomped his foot, wrenching the scooter around in a tight arc, the tires spitting gravel. He twisted the throttle to its absolute limit, the engine screaming in protest as they shot back the way they'd come, a desperate blur of motion against the darkening sky.

"Ramana!" Subramanyam screamed, twisting around in the seat, his voice cracking with fear. "It's coming right at us!"

"What!?" Ramana shouted back, his gaze flicking to the rearview mirror, only to see the massive, churning funnel bearing down on them, devouring the horizon.

A strange, unsettling lightness permeated the air. The scooter's wheels, still spinning furiously, slowly began to lose their grip on the dusty ground. A collective, strangled scream tore from both their throats as the scooter, with them clinging desperately to it, lifted off the road, suspended for a terrifying moment before being yanked violently upwards — a tiny speck swallowed by the roaring black maw of the vortex. Their screams vanished into the wind.

Scene Shift

Inside the Calverian royal palace, the air of anticipation was abruptly shattered. A servant, breathless and disheveled, burst into the grand hall, his eyes wide with frantic urgency.

"Your Majesty! Ministers! Princess! The weather... it has suddenly changed! Right at the garden side!"

A radiant smile blossomed on Selene's face, a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. "He is coming!" she declared, the prophecy echoing in her mind.

She rushed towards the garden's magnificent entrance, her steps light with purpose. Eva, the King, his ministers, and the generals all followed — a flurry of robes and armor.

When they finally arrived at the garden's sprawling, stage-like entrance from the palace, their eyes were drawn upwards. There, against the deep blue of the sky, was the same coiling black tornado, a stark, terrifying silhouette.

And then, from its churning depths, something emerged. First, a familiar shape — a scooter, impossibly suspended in the air. Trailing behind it, two flailing figures, tiny against the immense funnel.

"Bava Subramanyam!" Ramana's voice, though distant, was unmistakable, laced with raw terror. "Hold tight! We're going to die!"

Their trajectory was horrifyingly clear: a direct, uncontrolled descent. With a sickening rush of air, the tornado flung Ramana and Subramanyam from the scooter, sending them spiraling in different directions.

"Bava!" Ramana shouted, his voice desperate, as he saw Subramanyam plummet towards the glinting surface of the nearby pond.

Ramana, however, twisted mid-air, somehow managing to land upright, his feet hitting the lush grass with a jarring thud directly in front of King Edwric, Selene, and Eva. Behind him, the scooter, no longer airborne, slammed into the ground with a deafening blast, sending a shockwave of displaced air and debris rippling through the garden.

King Edwric, Selene, Eva, and all the gathered ministers and generals staggered back, expressions of utter shock and bewilderment frozen on their faces.

Ramana, disoriented but miraculously unharmed, pushed himself up, shaking his head, and looked around at the pristine — now slightly scorched — garden, the grand palace, and the stunned faces staring back at him.

A moment later, a loud spluttering broke the stunned silence. Subramanyam, soaked and sputtering, emerged from the pond, his hair plastered to his face, looking utterly bewildered.

"The camera lingered for a moment, catching the soft glint of the golden pendant against Ramana’s chest — Lord Venkateswara’s face, with the Shanku and Chakra, now glowing softly in the morning light."

               End of chapter 1 (part 2) 

                    with Epic Song  

                         Rakshakudu

                           The Savior

                     Into the New World