Silence stretched between us. I noticed a shift in the atmosphere — subtle yet unsettling. The ground beneath began to dissolve, the beauty of the earth slowly fading away, and the air grew dense, heavy with an unfamiliar weight. He halted, dismounted from his horse, and I followed closely behind. Darkness enveloped everything — vast, endless, and hollow. My instincts whispered that this was the realm of the Black Weapons, yet there was nothing to see, hear, or feel. It was as if all my senses had been stripped away, leaving only awareness itself.
He stopped, and I came to stand beside him. Our eyes met — his gaze deep, unreadable. Then, he took my hand. He spoke, not through words or sound, but directly into my mind. I could hear his thoughts. This man… he made me experience things I never knew were possible.
“Queen Shivali,” he whispered into my mind. “I, Rudra Shivraj Maheswar — the King of this Kaal Vivar, the lord of the Black Weapons — welcome you. It is an honor to bring you here.”
I stood frozen. I could see nothing but him; hear nothing but his voice echoing inside me.
“Do you know why this place is called Kaal Vivar?” His thoughts brushed against mine again, deep and resonant.
I shook my head. No, I don’t know. I’ve heard about the Black Weapons, but not about this place. No one knew of Kaal Vivar. I had to find it myself to become the master of the weapons. But now... they’ve already chosen their master. And it’s you, King Shivraj.”
His grip around my hand tightened. Taking slow, deliberate steps forward, he began to reveal the secrets of this world — the truth buried beneath its silence and shadow.
“This world was never meant to exist,” he continued, his voice echoing like thunder fading into eternity. “It was a catastrophe — a tear in creation — that erupted into what is now known as Kaal Vivar.
When the multiverses were born, light was not the only thing that breathed. Alongside creation came corruption — evils, devils, demons, and sins — shadows cast by the very brilliance of the divine. In the beginning, they were weak, shapeless, and wandering. But desire took root in them — the hunger to control, to conquer.
They turned first toward the fragile and the innocent, those easiest to break. Feeding upon fear, they grew — stronger, darker, faster — until it became nearly impossible to stop them. The universes were still young then, as were the gods, demigods, angels, and guardians. They needed time to understand their own powers. The darkness, however, wasted none. It found its strength in consuming the pure.
As time passed, the creations meant for peace and harmony crumbled into chaos and war. The skies burned, the stars bled, and cries of the fallen reached even the highest realms. In despair, the angels decided to descend into the battlefield — not all of them, only two.”
His voice softened, reverent. “They were the Twin Angels — Kriya, the elder, calm as still waters; and Karaali, the younger, fierce as living flame. They did not merely fight; they forged an illusion — a world within a world — to imprison the spreading evil. And in doing so, they sacrificed themselves. At the tender age of nineteen, when their thrones awaited and their powers had yet to fully awaken, they chose not glory, but sacrifice… to protect the fragile and the innocent.”
“They did not succeed at first,” he went on, his gaze distant, as if watching it unfold before him. “They fought endlessly — battle after battle — draining every ounce of their divine essence. Yet no one came to their aid. It was just the two of them… against an army of crores.”
The air around us pulsed with the echoes of that ancient war. I could almost hear the clash of unseen forces, the wails of burning stars.
“They were attacked relentlessly,” he said, his tone darkening. “And when their strength began to wane, the devils seized their chance. The twins were captured — chained and cast into the void, the emptiness where even light dared not wander. It was the edge of the universe… a place where time still moved, but existence itself forgot to breathe.”
He paused, and the silence that followed was heavier than words.
“But they did not surrender,” he continued softly. “Even in that infinite darkness, where there was no sky, no sound, no hope — their faith burned where light could not. And in that defiance, something awakened — something the universe had never seen before.”
In the silence of that endless void, the Twin Angels conceived a plan — a desperate, final act to end the rising darkness. They would forge a world, an illusion so powerful it could trap every evil, every demon, every corrupted soul within it. That was the only way to stop them.
Angel Kriya spun the web of that world — a realm where sound faded into nothingness, where light could enter but never escape, and where time itself came to rest. It was a prison of eternity. A place too dark to see, yet bound by gravity so dense that anything drawn near would be swallowed whole.
And that forged realm came to be known as Kaal Vivar.
That… was its origin.
He paused, then turned to look at me. I did not return his gaze, yet I could feel his eyes upon me — heavy, unreadable. I was too stunned to speak, too shaken to react. I had never heard this truth before. Surely others must have known, but no one had ever dared to tell me — not once.
What a disaster they are, I thought bitterly. I am their Queen, and still they dared to keep this from me. The thought burned through me, stirring a quiet rage. I couldn’t even remember how far we had traveled, lost between anger and awe.
Finally, I let the question form in my mind, knowing he could hear it as clearly as if I’d spoken aloud.
Then how were the Black Weapons created?
If you see any black weapon, you are not just seeing a weapon but Angel Kriya herself. His each word flowed down my nerve, as he continued further I felt as if my whole existence turned ice. Those black weapons were not mere creations of metal or magic — they were alive. Each of them breathed with the will of Angel Kriya herself. Even in her final moments, when her body was torn apart by the chaos she tried to contain, her spirit never surrendered. Her desire to protect the realms, her defiance against the devils, and her unyielding resolve refused to fade away.
That indomitable will condensed into fragments of pure energy — shards of her soul — which then forged themselves into weapons. Each weapon carries a pulse, a heartbeat, echoing her vow to never let darkness rule again.
They are not wielded; they choose. They awaken only in the hands of those whose heart burns with the same purpose that once burned within her. And when they strike, it is not just the weapon’s edge that cuts — it is the wrath, sorrow, and undying spirit of Angel Kriya herself.
They are her legacy, her curse, and her eternal war cry against the evil that once destroyed her.
This Kaal Vivar is a creation of Angel Kriya and those black weapons are her will.
His words rooted deep within me. I couldn’t help but let my curiosity give birth to a thousand questions.
“And where is Angel Karaali?” I asked. I wanted to know more — about them, about that day when the heavens themselves trembled.
“She fought,” he said. “Weakened those unspeakably powerful evils and devils, and locked them forever inside the trap. She became the gravity — the pull from which no force in the world can ever escape. Everything that crossed her path was bound, sealed, and silenced.”
When Angel Kriya sat in meditation, releasing every ounce of her divine essence to weave the indestructible web, it was Angel Karaali who stood guard — shielding her, battling the tide of chaos, and binding the devils one by one.
In that moment, even the universe hesitated to breathe. It feared them — those two radiant beings, those two little angels who defied creation itself.
And when their light began to fade, when life itself was slipping from their grasp, the universe — as if guided by the will of God — refused to let their sacrifice vanish. It pulled their essence together, fusing them into something eternal.
Thus was born the Kaal Vivar — alive, conscious, breathing through eternity.
The black weapons are not mere relics; they are living embodiments of that divine fusion.
Angel Kriya is the weapon. Angel Karaali is the strike.
Kriya created the trap; Karaali sealed it.
Kriya became the Kaal Vivar; Karaali became its gravity.
The black weapons are powerful beyond imagination — but the trap itself, the Vivar, is mightier still. No such creation can ever be woven again within the lifespan of this universe. This realm is sacred, yet within it lie imprisoned the most dreadful evils, devils, and sins ever born.
“Look around you,” he said softly. “The patterns you see — they are not mere designs. They are the cage. Those sins still dwell inside, screaming, clawing, summoning their lost power. But they can never break free.”
We took another turn through the endless passage, until he suddenly stopped.
“Look ahead,” he whispered.
“The heart of Kaal Vivar. That sound you hear — it’s the heartbeat. Behind it lies the sanctum where Angel Kriya meditated. That is where the black weapons were born. No one knows how they came to be. No one knows how they choose their masters. The universe keeps their secret hidden — forever beyond reach.”
“These patterns, the heart, and the sound of the heartbeat — where are they?” I asked, my voice trembling between wonder and frustration.
“Hnn?” he hummed, as if surprised by the question.
“Where are these things you’re talking about? I can’t see or hear anything — except your voice. All I see is this endless, dark realm stretching in every direction. Why do we keep turning in such an empty space? What can you see that I can’t?”
Questions upon questions spun inside my head, each one louder than the last. Nothing made sense anymore. My chest felt heavy, as if the very air here was pressing against my heart. Emotions I couldn’t name clawed their way up my throat. What exactly was happening here?
“You can’t see anything?” he asked, his tone sharpening. “Nothing around you? We’ve walked so far… crossed the traps, passed through the deadliest passages — and you saw nothing?”
His words struck like echoes in my skull, maddening and cold.
“How could I know?” I shot back, anger breaking through my confusion. “You’re the one who brought me here! You’re the master of those black weapons — the one who told me all those stories, things I’d never even imagined. So shouldn’t you know why I can’t see what you do?”
“Is this the real Kaal Vivar?” I shot a glare at him. My anger was boiling, rising with every heartbeat. “Are you trying to deceive me?”
“If you are planning to do so, King, it’s of no use.” I warned, my voice trembling with rage. “I’ll burn you here and now if you dare to trick me.”
The thought that someone — anyone — might deceive me made my blood surge. I clutched his hand, locking my death stare into his eyes. But his gaze remained calm, unfazed, like still water untouched by storm. He looked softly into mine, and though I tried to read his thoughts, they felt distant — like an exile’s silence.
“You are the master of the black weapons, the King of this Kaal Vivar. Then call your weapons. I want to see them — only then will I believe your words, your stories. CALL THEM!”
He sighed. “That’s not possible. I can’t summon them unless they choose me. They exist behind this wall — free, unbound. They haven’t chosen their master yet. I have no control over them.”
“You think I’m in the mood to entertain excuses?” I screamed in frustration. “They already chose you! So what are you waiting for? Call them, or none of us will leave this place alive.”
He tried again, gently, “I can only call upon those that have chosen me, not all the weapons.”
“I don’t want to hear anything. It’s an order. Call those weapons!” Rage burned through every word.
“Shivali, listen—”
“Queen Shivali,” I cut him off, voice like fire. “You can’t take my name as if I were some commoner. Whether you like it or not, you will respect me.”
He closed his eyes, bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice low but steady. “Queen Shivali, I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.”
Something in his tone — calm, deep, almost enchanting — began to soften me. Still, I lowered my voice but not my command. “Call those weapons.”
He looked into my eyes, trying to convey something unspoken. He gulped, then gently held my other hand. Our foreheads touched, and he breathed deeply.
“How could I make you understand?” he murmured. “This isn’t in my control. I can’t go against the laws set by the two angels.”
“Call those weapons,” I repeated, ignoring his reasoning entirely.
Silence. Stillness.
Then, slowly, he turned toward the wall — a blank void to me, yet something vast and alive to him. He released my hands, closed his eyes, and lifted one palm forward. A black spell began to swirl around it, pulsing like liquid shadow. With his other hand, he held mine again.
And then—
The space ahead erupted.
I saw them. The black weapons. Endless, countless, floating in the vastness like a sea of death. At the center stood a sword, half buried in stone, a chain wrapped tightly around it, glowing faintly with ancient power.
I froze. My breath caught. My body stiffened as awe overtook me. The sight was beyond fear or imagination. Both angels — the ones who forged these — weren’t mere creators. They had birthed destruction itself.
The spell in his hand began to fade, the weapons vanishing one by one. He lowered his hand, then turned and took mine again.
“Let’s go,” he said softly, his voice echoing directly in my mind. “People on Earth must be waiting for us.”
But I couldn’t move. My legs felt numb, my body heavy as stone. I stood still, staring at the empty void where moments ago death itself had shimmered. I didn’t want to forget that sight.
I closed my eyes, whispering a silent wish — to meet those angels one day, and to be like them.
I opened my eyes and looked up into nothingness. A strange calmness settled within me — as if through all the chaos, I had finally gained what I’d always sought.
And yet, those weapons were not mine. They could never be mine. The thought pierced through me like a needle.
I lowered my gaze and looked toward him.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
Turning around, I began to walk. My steps were small, heavy — as though something unseen weighed me down. I couldn’t fully grasp what had just happened in those last few moments. Everything felt right, yet nothing was right.
We walked in silence, our hands entwined, my pace slightly ahead of his. No words. No thoughts.
Inside me, chaos and peace coexisted — and I couldn’t explain it to anyone. Perhaps no one could understand. Even I couldn’t.
Lost in our own thoughts, we soon reached the spot where our horse waited. We mounted and began our journey back to Earth. Just as we had entered, we left Kaal Vivar — quietly, without farewell.
The beauty of the Earth slowly returned. The trees swayed gently, the fresh air touched my face, and the soft rustle of leaves filled the night. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed these simple sounds.
It was still night here. I turned to look at him, only to find his eyes already on me.
“How is it still night?” I asked softly. “I thought… we spent so much time inside Kaal Vivar.”
“Time stops for those within Kaal Vivar,” he said with a gentle smile — his calm, natural smile.
For reasons I couldn’t name, guilt stirred in me.
We continued our journey in silence. The forest around us was familiar again, and I realized we were close — near the palace. Chiryut Mahal.
The name alone brought a wave of memories, of home, of what once was.
After some time, we descended from the horse and began to walk again. Still no words. No conversation.
I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but my mind was already elsewhere — on something far more important, something I needed to do before the morning light returned.
I paused when the walls of the palace came into view.
Turning around, I looked at him.
He stood there — always behind me, sometimes beside me, always holding my hand.
Our eyes met, and for a few quiet moments, neither of us spoke. The silence between us felt deeper than words.
“I found my way back home,” I said softly. “Before the morning comes… I want to leave this earth forever — and never look back.”
The words left my lips with both peace and pain.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered after a pause. “For my behavior earlier.”
I folded my hands and bowed my head. “You are a king. I should have respected your position, your honor. But I didn’t. I screamed and yelled at you. I’m truly sorry. I just hope… you can forgive me before I leave.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I lifted my gaze and looked straight into his eyes — calm, steady, the way he always looked at me.
He said nothing. Still as ever. His calmness, his silence — it was a mystery I would never solve.
I stepped back, closed my eyes, and summoned my wings.
Dark, powerful, and magnificent — my black wings unfolded behind me, spreading wide under the moonlight.
With one last glance at him, I took flight — soaring high into the night sky, vanishing among the stars and the moon, dissolving into the endless galaxy.
Write a comment ...