The Dreams That Devour

The air beneath the palace was colder than any desert night.Kedar’s breath misted faintly as he descended, torch in hand, its flame struggling to stay alive against a wind that came from nowhere.The stairway spiraled endlessly — every step echoed back as if dozens of footsteps followed him.
Then came the whisper.
> “You shouldn’t have come alone.”


Kedar froze. The flame flickered violently.He turned — nothing.But the wall beside him rippled like disturbed water, and in it he saw his own reflection, slightly delayed. When he lifted his torch, the reflection smiled a moment too late.
He clenched his jaw and continued downward.

---
The Hall of Forgotten Faces
At the bottom, the stair opened into a vast chamber. Statues lined both walls — once proud kings and queens, now eroded by time.Only their eyes remained intact.Dozens of pairs of stone eyes staring at him in judgment.
When he stepped closer, the faces began to change.The first statue became his stepmother. The next, Guru Parshu. The third — Anant, smiling, then looking disappointed.And the last — his father.
Not his adoptive one.The one from dreams — the one he could never remember clearly.
“Father?” he whispered.
The statue blinked.
> “You left me,” it said in a voice too human.“You lived while all others burned.”


Kedar staggered back. “No. This is a lie.”The entire hall shook, statues cracking open. From inside the stone, shadowy hands reached for him, whispering all at once.
> “Traitor… coward… survivor…”


Kedar flared his Fire Prana instinctively. The red aura ignited, and the hands recoiled like smoke.The hall fell silent again — except for one soft laugh echoing through the dark corridors.
> “Brave… yet so afraid to face yourself.”



---
The Chamber of Illusions
Following the voice, Kedar entered another corridor. Here, torches lit themselves as he passed, revealing frescoes painted on the walls — scenes of a kingdom in prosperity, a prince beloved by all.
But with each step, the murals changed.
The prince grew older, prouder, crueler.In one, he banished his father.In the next, he stood beside hooded figures, drawing runes in blood.And in the final one — he sat alone on a throne of sand, crown melting on his head, eyes hollow.
Kedar felt something ache deep inside.He understood.This was Mayan’s story.
The cursed prince had wanted a perfect world that adored him — and when denied it, he’d built one himself, out of illusion and grief.
> “A mirror,” Kedar murmured. “He made this whole place a mirror of his pain.”


The voice laughed again — this time closer.
> “If I could not be king of reality… I became god of dreams.”


Mayan’s voice echoed like silk tearing.
The corridor shifted violently. The torches bent sideways.Kedar blinked and suddenly found himself — not in a corridor — but standing at the gate of his old village.Children laughed. His stepmother waved. His father smiled, proud.
> “You’re home,” a voice said softly behind him.“Stay.”


For a heartbeat, he almost believed it.The warmth. The air. The peace.It felt real.
Then he noticed — no one cast a shadow.

---
Breaking the First Illusion
“Enough,” Kedar whispered, gripping his chain. His Fire Prana flared, heat burning through the mirage.The world twisted, melting like painted glass.
The illusion shattered — and he fell to his knees back in the dark corridor, gasping.Mayan’s laughter surrounded him, low and venomous.
> “Impressive. Most lose their minds before they reach this depth.”“You can’t break me.”“Break you?” The voice grew soft, almost pitying. “Oh, flame of the Rudravan… I only want to show you the truth.”


Kedar froze. That word — Rudravan.He didn’t know how, but it sent pain through his chest like lightning.
Before he could respond, the floor rippled.The palace walls vanished — replaced by a field of fire and ashes.Screams echoed around him — people burning, shouting his name.
> “Run, Kedar!” a voice cried — his real father’s voice.And then — silence.


When Kedar opened his eyes again, he was kneeling before the same ruin, but now it pulsed with dark red light.Something ancient had awakened deeper below.
Mayan was no longer merely whispering — he was calling.
> “Come, chosen flame. Let us see how strong your mind truly is.”



---
Kedar rose, sweat glistening on his skin, breath steady but heart trembling.He had seen the edge of his own soul — and it was cracked.
With one last look back at the fading corridor, he descended again — toward the heart of the mirage.
To be continued....