Vir stood atop a high bough of a Godhollow at the edge of the forest, gazing into the nebulous distance for what must have been the thousandth time. Details became faint at the periphery of the landscape, and while he could vaguely make out what looked like the outer buildings of the village of Bridge, he still could not set foot there. Would he ever?

  Vir wondered what it would be like to return to the place of his childhood—even if it was a mere construction in his head. He wondered what all the Crown Chakra would manifest in that village. Would he get to see Rudvik again? Would Alicia and Apramore be alive and well? Or would it be an empty ghost town, filled with nothing but echoes of the past?

  If he continued making such glacial progress towards the Crown, then he might never know.

  “What you must understand,” Jalendra said from beside him, “is that while the Crown Chakra augments the others, it too has an identity of its own. Understanding that identity is the key to opening it.”

  “So it’s another aspect of my identity,” Vir said, struggling to find another angle he’d missed. “More of understanding who I am?”

  “Yes and no,” Jalendra replied as they walked along the forest edge. “While the other Chakras involve understanding an aspect of your current identity, the Crown requires you to take that mastery of your identity and project it. The greater that projection, the clearer that image is in your mind, and the stronger your crown will manifest.”

  “I don’t understand,” Vir replied, despite having heard some flavor of this same speech so many times that he’d lost count. “How exactly am I supposed to project my identity?”

  Jalendra went silent, no doubt realizing that another repetition of their earlier conversations would do Vir no good.

  “Think of it like a journey,” he said at last. “If you are halfway to the person you wish to be, what does that goal look like when you finally reach your destination? What does that Vir look like? That is the core of opening the Crown.”

  “And yet, if I aim for a more humble destination, the result will be equally humble,” Vir said.

  “Indeed. You may well reach it more easily than if you had aimed for a loftier goal. However, there is value in toil. The more abstract the destination, the more difficult the Crown can be to open, yes, but the more powerful it will be should you manifest it.”

  “Some never do,” Vir muttered.

  “Correct. You, however, have a twofold advantage in that regard. You have us, and you have the benefit of near-infinite time.”

  “But what you’re saying is that if my goal is too lofty, I might never open it,” Vir said. “Not because of time, but because it might actually be impossible.”

  “In some cases, yes,” Jalendra nodded. “I doubt you will need to worry about such thoughts, however. Keep trying. Keep meditating, and the Crown will eventually open itself to you.”

  Weeks and months passed, and Vir lost himself in meditation.

  In the past, he had kept his other chakras closed, but as his mastery grew over time, he became more comfortable keeping them open—especially while meditating. The Third Eye granted him such sublime awareness that meditating without it felt like blinding himself. Sadly, it could only be opened for brief moments—far shorter than the Foundation or Life Chakras—and so Vir was forced to use it strategically to avoid fatigue.

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  Thanks to the Third Eye and the mastery of his other Chakras, Vir felt he had a solid handle on his identity now. He was the shield and spear of the realm—protector, guardian, defender, and vanguard. And while he had once cared for the well-being of the realm more than his own life, he now knew that was a flawed attitude.

  To truly serve the realm, Vir had to survive and thrive. To a long life in service of the realm, taking care of himself was as vital as anything else. For what good was he to the realm dead?

  The shift hadn’t come easily, but the pursuit of the Chakras had forced this realization upon Vir.

  Now at peace and in tune with these concepts, he knew the person he wished to be. The ultimate protector, the ultimate defender. He could visualize it so clearly, it might as well be fact.

  And yet, despite his efforts, the Crown did not resonate.

  For months, Vir meditated, tweaking the idea of the defender in his mind—a figure larger than life. Incorruptible, unassailable—but the Crown remained stubbornly shut.

  “Perhaps you are not thinking large enough,” Jalendra offered one day as they walked along the river that cut through the meadow.

  While the river itself had remained the same size through the latest mindscape expansions, its waters and its banks now teemed with life. Everything from waterfowl to fish to forest animals all came to appreciate the pristine water. And unlike normal creatures, they did not flee when Vir approached—something that warmed his heart.

  That was true for all the fauna that called the Godshollow home, and one of Vir’s favorite pastimes when not meditating was leaping between the colossal trees’ high boughs, simply watching the life around him with his Third Eye Chakra.

  “Not large enough?” Vir asked. “I’m picturing myself as the realm’s eternal guardian. How could I go much higher?”

  Vir had taken a liking to the old demon, more than any of the others. It helped that he had opened all of his Chakras, having lived a long, prosperous life. One of his few predecessors to have done so.

  “Tell me, young one—who are you?” Jalendra asked.

  “I am many things,” Vir replied. “I am the Raja of Clan Garga. I am one who wishes to unite the realm as never before. I am the son of Shari and Mayan Garga, a demon prince, the son of a human lumberjack. I am the godson of Cirayus, friend to many demons and humans, and betrothed to Maiya, my lover.”

  “And?” Jalendra pressed.

  Vir sighed. “And I am the Akh Nara. The Primordial.”

  “Exactly,” Jalendra said with a satisfied nod. “You are humble—normally a good trait in most people. For you, I’m afraid it does you a disservice.”

  “How can being humble ever be a bad thing?” Vir asked, frowning.

  “It prevents you from reaching for the stars.”

  Vir scoffed. “I’m not special, if that’s what you mean. I’ve simply been blessed with good people around me, and I try to do my best by them.”

  “Not special? Truly? Tell me, all life reincarnates in this world, but how many remember their prior selves, hmm? How many carry their memories and identity from one life to the next?”

  Vir was silent, for there was only one.

  “Furthermore, how many can wield every ultimate bloodline art? How many demons wield Ash Prana?”

  Vir bit his lip.

  “Need I go on?” Jalendra asked with a cheeky smile.

  “No,” Vir said tiredly. “I understand your point.”

  “My point is that this is perhaps the difference you might focus on.”

  With great reluctance, Vir spent the next several months contemplating the concept of the Akh Nara—a being that transcended time and even death. A guardian whose role transcended lifespans and identities.

  Yet his Crown Chakra remained silent.

  And then, one day, in the pit of frustration, Vir lashed out. It was an errant thought, born more from anger than anything profound.

  “I am not a god!”

  And the unyielding Crown finally stirred.

  When it did, it was not excitement or relief that Vir felt.

  It was terror.

  “I am not a god!”

  Again it stirred, and Vir clenched his fists, forcing himself to come to terms with the truth he’d so desperately tried to avoid.

  For what was a being that retained its memories, possessed multiple identities over time, thus attaining a form of immortality—if not a god?

  The walls in his mind fell. The resistance shattered.

  “The destination of my journey,” Vir whispered, “is that of a god. An all-powerful being that destroys only to create, that protects and nurtures. A being that transcends time and death itself.”

  Power surged through Vir’s soul as all of his Chakras were hurled wide open, pouring their energies into the Crown.

  This was an energy from beyond understanding—beyond the canvas of the universe itself. A profound energy, and not mortal.

  The Crown opened and Vir’s aura manifested—not behind him, as it had with Cirayus, but as a part of him.

  Ten arms held ten different metaphysical weapons. Four faces, each with a different expression, witnessing all of creation. Life, death, and the energy that bound them.

  Vir had manifested not just his Crown, but the Crown of a deity.