Sura King Sahastranetra lies dying. The fifth Indra, over eight hundred years old, has no heir. As his last breaths rattle, his mind retreats into memory—the unearned crown, the cold marriage, and the Rakshasa priestess he destroyed.

In his fevered visions, she transforms. A goddess of fury. Skin to void. Eyes to crimson. A third horn of judgment.

He screams. He cannot escape her. She is always watching.

Far away, an infant lies in a charred wooden box. She remembers only darkness, heat, and one word whispered through fire: Survive.

The king's lineage ends with him. But the ash remembers.