Maharaja, they called him. The King of Kings.

  The Uniter of the Demon Realm, they called him.

  The world knew him by many names.

  Ekavir of Brij, son of Rudvik. Sarvaak, Raja of Clan Garga. Not to mention the many aliases he’d gone by over the years. Vir, Vaak, Apramor… even Neel.

  Yet these days, few called him by those names, as though to hide those identities. Past identities. Past lives.

  The titles they used now were given to the one who had transcended mortality. A living deity, and all-powerful.

  The Akh Nara.

  Lofty and impressive titles, all.

  Yet as Vir stared up at the strange Imperium contraption nestled within his Crown Chakra mindscape, he could only see himself as an impostor.

  For how could anyone think themselves beyond the grasp of death when forced to confront their moment of their death—again and again, every night without fail? How could anyone who had had their soul shattered and remade ever think themselves above mortality?

  Before him loomed the great machine, whose name he neither knew nor cared to learn. The object that haunted his every dream.

  Every nightmare brought him here, to this place of Imperium construction, where he was compelled to enter, only to be consumed.

  Mind, body, and soul.

  His steps carried him into the lift, raising him high above—into the core of the infernal contraption.

  Vir knew what came next—how could he not? He’d all but memorized the process, having endured it a hundred times.

  Even knowing it to be nothing more than a dream—a nightmare from which he would surely awaken—the agony and the shock of being ripped apart limb from limb—never grew any less terrible to bear.

  And so it was that Vir jolted awake, panting heavily and drenched in sweat. He stayed there in the dark for several moments, heaving and fighting to get his breath under control.

  Beside him, the sheets stirred. “The same dream again?” The red-haired beauty sat up, amber eyes almost glowing despite the darkness.

  Vir nodded.

  “Yet Greesha says she has no awareness of such a prophecy.”

  “Greesha doesn’t see everything,” Vir replied with a sigh. “As we both know all too well.”

  He leaned over to kiss Maiya on the lips, taking in her naked form before rising from the bed.

  He barely even noticed his surroundings light up as he did.

  A circular chamber of white walls and warm, perfectly even floors, the light seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. The ancient room had, of course, been decorated with both his and Maiya’s effects—dressers, wardrobes, tables, and chairs—making the otherwise sterile space somewhat cozy.

  Ambiance was not, however, the reason he and Maiya had moved here.

  Vir approached a nearby wall that bore neither doors nor windows. The very walls themselves seemed to part and dissolve as he approached, admitting him into a hallway that led to the rest of their luxurious abode.

  Saying nothing of its exotic architects, their home occupied an entire floor of the massive structure and was easily the largest space Vir had ever dwelled in, though he used the term lightly.

  He rarely ever had the chance to visit.

  Funny, Vir thought, how quickly the extraordinary became mundane.

  Stepping onto the balcony, he took in the sweeping views before him. He couldn’t help but wonder how they had come so far and yet lost so much in the process.

  Before him stretched not the capital city of Clan Garga, but the ancient city of the Prime Imperium—or what was left of it. He stood atop one of its many great spires, on its highest floor.

  Once abandoned, the city now had new occupants. Ones strong enough to brave the countless monsters that prowled its streets.

  “Incredible, isn’t it?” Maiya said, donning a coat and joining Vir at his side. “To think I’d be standing here. Me, A human, in the depths of Mahādi.”

  “It truly is,” Vir replied, his chest full of pride, reflecting on what this realm had meant to the world not even five years ago. The Ash was a place to be avoided at all cost. A place synonymous with death. Where the ill went to end their lives.

  Not a place to live. To thrive. To call home.

  “And it’s not just you,” Vir said, gazing down at the streets far below. Streets that bustled with life. Where demons from every clan roamed, as well as a handful of human handmaidens.

  “And all it took was a little time,” Maiya murmured. “It seems the solution to many problems.”

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  “But not all.”

  “Not all,” Maiya echoed sadly, wrapping her arm around him.

  Their night together had been one of the few they’d been able to share in months. Who knew when they’d have another chance?

  Maiya’s eyes were downcast and weary. “I just wish we could go back. To the old days. To a simpler life,” she said, gazing longingly at the nonexistent horizon. “You are Lord of the Demon Realm, and I, the figure humanity has placed all their faith in. We stand at the highest positions in our respective worlds, and yet… what good is it? We can’t even see each other. We can’t enjoy each others' company. You’re but an Ash Gate away, and still, we have no time.”

  “We had all the time,” Vir said quietly. “We had years. Good, happy years where both realms flourished.”

  Where there was genuine hope in the realms, Vir didn't add. Where Saunak's ideas were implemented one after another, and demonic unity had never been higher. Where the fields flourished and no demon starved.

  Under Maiya's guidance and Ira's Kin'jal leadership, the human realm entered an era of unprecedented peace.

  Busy though they both were, they were the happiest days of their lives.

  But now…

  “It seems time itself is no longer ours,” he muttered. “It’s theirs now.”

  The ones who wove the tapestry of Fate. Who, as Vir had learned from diving into his Crown Chakra world, from spending countless hours in Janak's Primordial Chambers, whose name must never be uttered, lest it call their attention.

  Maiya said nothing for a moment. “You’re going out again?” she asked.

  “I have to.”

  She sighed. “I’ll join you, then. I have a brief period before I’m required elsewhere. Even if it is work, I’d rather spend what time I can with you.”

  “I’d like that,” Vir said, turning to Maiya with a small smile.

  Descending by lift to the ground level, Vir and Maiya entered one of the several permanent Ash Gates that had been established to connect to Mahādi. From there, they traveled to Vijaya Stronghold—now more of a fortress city that was home to many thousands of demons—moving onto one of their several bases on the outskirts of the Ash that was almost as large before finally emerging at Samar Patag.

  To say that the Asuras had strategically dominated the Ash would be an understatement. The Ash was well and truly theirs, with no others even deigning to compete.

  How could they, when Vir held a monopoly on the Asura Trials, as they were now called?

  Many had undertaken them, seeking to enter the fabled realm, yet even now, only a select few demons were capable of withstanding its immense pranic density. To say nothing of Mahādi itself.

  It was a miracle and a half that Maiya—or any other human—had managed such a feat. But then, there had never been much that could stand between Maiya and her goals.

  Despite her growing role as humanity’s savior, as their ultimate arbiter and figurehead, she had nonetheless put in long, painful hours forcing her body to adapt to the prana of the Ash.

  The result was that the slim woman beside him was the most powerful mejai in the human realm by a fair amount, capable of firing S-rank magic faster than anyone alive.

  A true Prime Mejai.

  Speed wasn’t normally the metric by which S-rank Magi were judged, but when one mastered every S Rank spell in their affinity, what was there to do but to cast them faster?

  Vir only wished he had more opportunities to show her how deeply he cherished her. These days, his waking moments rivaled his nightmares, and they were both each other’s anchor in this unending storm.

  Emerging directly into his bedchambers at Samar Patag where an Ash Gate had been erected, Vir thus bypassed the crowds, climbing the stairs up to the rooftop platform where his private airship awaited.

  “You really ought to greet them more,” Maiya said, rehashing a conversation they’d had a dozen times before. “You really ought to show your face. You do realize that your lack of appearance only makes it worse, right?”

  “I know,” Vir said with a sigh. “It’s just…”

  “Yeah,” Maiya interrupted softly, intuiting what he was about to say. Neither of them enjoyed spending time in the limelight.

  “The attention was flattering at first,” Maiya admitted.

  Vir nodded in agreement. “It was,” he said. But too much of anything inevitably soured, and neither had ever done well in the limelight. They had others for that. On Vir’s side were Cirayus, Greesha, Balagra, Nayan, Janani, and Malik, as well as their many subordinates. On Maiya’s side, Ira, Riyan, Bheem, Yamal, the Head Handmaiden, and a whole host of others.

  These days, neither showed their faces all that much. Which, as Maiya said, only deepened the mythical image they had in people’s heads.

  “Neither of us is the type to be worshiped by the masses when our realms are falling apart.”

  Maiya bit her lip. He knew she agreed. They usually did on most matters. It was why they could operate independently so well and stay in sync.

  Sometimes, Vir wished that weren’t the case. He wished he got to see more of the person who mattered the most in all the realms.

  Vir let out the tension in his back as they ascended. On the ground, he was an icon. A deity. In the sky, he was but one among many, thanks to the sheer amount of traffic in the airways above the Demon Realm.

  Utterly incomparable to what they’d been just a few short years ago. Incomparable, even to when Vir had awoken from his coma over five years prior, stunned by the transformation Maiya had brought upon the city.

  He looked back on those times fondly—when he truly felt he was making a difference. A leader of a revolution. Someone doing real good.

  “Do you ever feel,” Vir asked quietly, “that there’s any hope left?”

  “There’s always hope, Vir,” she said, though her words rang hollow.

  “We blazed so brightly back then,” Vir said. “I thought uniting the realm and bringing peace to both realms would usher in the most glorious age our people had ever seen.”

  “And we have,” Maiya murmured softly. “We did.”

  “Yes,” Vir said bitterly. “But at what cost? What value is any of this when the very fabric of our universe splits apart?”

  Maiya stayed silent for a long moment before whispering, “We’ll find a way. Janak’s Chambers have the answer. They must.”

  Vir’s frown only deepened. He could only pray she was right. For they had tried everything. Had desperately closed Tear after Tear, recruiting even Saunak in the process. But not even his genius could fight an enemy that operated outside of reality itself. Not when the Tears were being created intentionally by the enemy, in places where they did the most damage.

  No matter how many they closed, all their foe had to do was unravel the tapestry of the realms and another would spring open, claiming a hundred lives from prana poisoning alone. To say nothing of the beasts that spewed through.

  Saunak's Tear Destabilizer might have allowed humans and demons to stop the flow of beasts, but it did nothing to actually close the Tears. To this day, there were only two beings in all the realms who could.

  After countless failed solutions, after endless sleepless nights, Vir had come to the realization that only Janak's Chambers held any hope. That, using his Imperium knowledge, the god had researched their foe, and possessed more knowledge about them than Vir ever would, even if he lived for millennia. For years, Vir had spent every free moment trying to divine their secrets.

  There was a message there, buried deep within all the musings and research. A message, he was now sure was left for him.

  He only prayed it had the answers they seeked. If the chambers failed to yield a true solution, then there would be no hope. Not for demons or humans, or any other creature that called the realms home.

  It wasn’t long before Vir sighted the festering blight that brought him out here. The first of an unending infinity of Ash Tears that plagued the realm.

  He directed his airship to descend. Their brief respite had ended. It was time to begin the unending war anew.

  A war against a foe that could not be seen, touched, or killed. A being more deserving of worship than the Prime Imperium had ever been.

  And one that Vir, for all his mastery of the Chakras, for all the Ultimate Bloodline Arts that decorated his body, had no hope of defeating.