The Weight of Memory

The moment the marble floor solidified beneath my feet, I knew this was no ordinary summoning.
I didn’t panic. I never do.Even when the classroom dissolved into radiant nothingness. Even when we appeared in the void with thrones of divinity looming before us.Even now—standing before gods who spoke in tones designed to bend mortal knees—I kept still, eyes open, mind moving.
I watched my classmates first.
Renji had already clenched his fists, the kind of tension that screamed “I need to punch something to feel in control.”Aadya's eyes flicked from god to god, already assessing their words, their posture, their possible lies.Qutoria… was unreadable. As always. She rarely spoke unless necessary, but I noticed her subtle movements—fingers twitching like a pianist's over invisible keys.Seno, of course, played the fool. He was smirking, but his eyes weren’t laughing. They never did.
Me? I just listened.
Three gods. Three names.Creation. Preservation. Destruction.Aethros. Nyara. Vandred.
The balance was textbook—almost suspiciously perfect. Like something copied from a divine playbook.
They declared us "Heroes."Gave us crests. Powers. A mission.To save dying worlds, starting with one ruled by a god named Chakra—a name that didn't belong with the others.
That’s when something inside me shifted. A faint ache, like déjà vu with claws.
Chakra…
I knew that name. Not from myth. Not from books.From memory.
Old memory.Memory not born in this life.
As they sent us toward the rift—the silver gate swirling open like a mirror to somewhere forgotten—my crest began to pulse irregularly. I noticed Nyara frown. Even Vandred’s eternal scowl faltered for a second.
 “His link is… unstable.”
They called it a defect. A flaw.But they were wrong.
It wasn’t unstable.It was remembering.
We stepped into Varinai, a world ruled by silence and waiting skies. But before I could take in the new realm, the world paused—only for me. The others froze mid-step. Time curled in on itself like a held breath.
And there, in the stillness of that fractured moment, he appeared.
A man cloaked in storm-colored robes, skin like obsidian light, eyes burning with rotating symbols.
 “You’ve come again,” he said, voice resonating like thunder whispering through temple halls.“Late, but necessary.”

“Chakra.”
He smiled faintly. “So, you remember.”
Not just remember.I lived here once.
I was the first soul born in this world. A fragment of balance made flesh. A trial born before trials were recorded. When this realm was still raw, unshaped by civilization or belief. I chose to leave this world—chose reincarnation—to understand existence from the outside. To return when the strings of fate began to fray.
And now I was back.
Not summoned.Not chosen.But returning.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, calm and firm. “They will try to control the cycle. Bind your path in contracts disguised as blessings.”
“The three gods?”
He nodded. “They are not false, not exactly. They are sent. Masks worn by fragments of those who once served the real creators. They use their names, but not their authority.”
“Then why the act?”
“Because mortals listen to names. To power. Because the true gods cannot intervene anymore… not directly.”
He stepped back, fading with the wind. “You’ll see it soon enough. Distinguishing truth from deception is your burden now. But you’re ready.”
Time resumed.
Renji swore, “Damn, it’s freezing here.”
Aadya stepped beside me. “You alright? You spaced out for a second.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, adjusting the collar of my uniform. “Just... remembering something important.”
Seno looked around. “This is Varinai, huh? Weird sky. I like it.”
Qutoria closed her eyes. “Someone’s watching us.”
Not someone.Everyone.
We walked forward, the landscape stretching before us—endless fields tinged silver beneath twin moons. Somewhere in this world, gods were dying. And maybe mortals too.
But before anything else—before plans and battles and divine missions—I had to speak. Tell them something none of them would understand yet. But eventually, they’d need to.
So I turned to them—my friends, my companions, whether they liked it or not.
“You want the truth?” I said calmly.
They looked at me, surprised. I rarely volunteered information.
I exhaled slowly. “It’s a long story, but… I’ll tell you what I can. First thing you should know—those three gods we met? They aren’t real.”
Renji blinked. “Huh?”
“They’re not entirely fake, either,” I said. “They’re messengers—wearing borrowed names. Shells. I met the real one. The one they’re pretending to serve.”
Aadya narrowed her eyes. “When?”
“In the moment time paused. You didn’t see it. You couldn’t.”
Qutoria tilted her head. “Chakra?”
I nodded.
“He told me how to tell the real from the false. Why this world is in danger. Why… I was sent away to Earth, to return only now.”
They stared, silent.
Seno let out a low whistle. “Well damn, Ishan. You’ve been holding out on us.”
I gave a small, wry smile.
“Like I said… it’s a rather long story. But we don’t have the luxury of ignorance anymore. Not here. Not with what’s coming.”