Chapter 5: Hope and Havoc

I turn to watch the other battles. An old woman with blond hair and blue eyes chants, her voice sharp, echoing strangely through the arena. “What would you like to eat?”

The young girl facing her answers:

“My name is Meera!”

The boy next to her calls out:

“My name is Rohan!”

BOOM—

Irrelevant answers. The two are blasted into ashes on the spot. The grand elder could use Dhvani Sura Jagran to defend, but not everyone can. In the end, strength decides all.

The crowd recoils. A gasp passes through our ranks. I clutch my worn kurta, heart thudding. Somewhere, someone quietly recites the Gayatri mantra, seeking comfort as the world seems to fall apart.

Looking around, the spell effects in other battles are even more dazzling, but the questions—so familiar. Suddenly, it hits me: If I stood up there, maybe I could survive too.

Just then, an arrow whistles through the air. My instincts scream at me to duck, but before I can move—

“Watch out!”

Ananya gathers her power, chanting true words: “raksha kavach.”

A flock of pigeons explodes into the sky as her mantra echoes, feathers drifting down like blessings—or warnings. “Raksha Kavach! (Protective Shield)”

A transparent shield forms around us, pulsing with golden light. I catch the sharp tang of burnt ghee—like home, like puja safety. Relief seeps into my bones, and I manage a shaky grin. For a moment, I think we might survive.

I suddenly realise—Ananya’s Hindi is more standard than the grand elder’s. Does that mean she’s even stronger? In that case, what about me? My Hindi, straight from the streets of Lucknow, might just be my secret weapon. What a joke the universe is.

“Look out!”

Another elder shouts. Above us, a massive meteorite falls, targeting Ananya. The foreign clans are all ganging up, determined to break Bharat’s backbone.

People scatter, shrieking. The ground shakes, the sky darkens. In the chaos, I hear the distant cry of a chaiwala, his tray clattering as he runs. Ananya’s face is set, eyes burning with resolve. For Bharat, for all of us, she stands tall.

CRACK—

The shield shatters. The meteorite comes crashing down.

Dust filled my mouth, and somewhere, the sharp tang of burnt ghee cut through the smoke. Time slows. Every heartbeat is a drum in my ears. I see the fear and determination in Ananya’s eyes, and all around—my people, my land, refusing to give in.

“Ashram leader!”

Everyone cries out in alarm. The foreign clans smirk, certain we’re finished.

In the final moments, I hear the distant ring of temple bells, the faint laughter of my sister at home, the promise of a land that refuses to surrender. Even as the world trembles, a stubborn ember of hope burns in every Bharatiya heart.

As the dust settled, I realised—I was still alive. And for the first time, every eye in the arena was on me.