Indraprasth Machination of Kronos

Indraprasth

Machination Of Kronos

By Siddharth Tailor

––––––––

Copyright ©2018 by Enlightenone.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book was published thanks to

Almighty Krishna , my Dear Wife and Family.

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER 1

Fifty feet in the air, the stairs led upward, the sides reminiscent of crisp dirt. The orange glow blessed both of them as they walked pass the stairs and into the square.

A fountain in the centre, the water rained down from the centre piece. Glossing the bird stature gleamed in the light. It felt serene, he had to stop and take it in. Wally walked around the fountain with awe. Ben was more cautious, peeking within this space. The shadows were not safe to his eyes.

As mostly he was not sure what would happen next and from where it would come. This place, this ruin, where did it come from, he wondered? In the hilly ranges of Ecuador, there should be two small ruins mostly broken pillars, no grand buildings to show as much of its past has eroded.

He had sought to search the lower valley for hidden tools that might be buried in the mud. But he never expected to be stepping into a full fledge city, almost unblemished by history. Like it was built yesterday, which was impossible.

Wally was asking questions Ben could not answer, all he could do was look.

The columns elaborate, mixed with a bluish tint, the glossy rock was infused with the earth underneath. Gardens dancing along the side and in lush sections, fruits grow from them, big and luscious.

Wally come on.

He twirled and came to Ben who was shaken as he walked. Looking down every alley, betwixt houses, the walls were tall were made of a type of shinny substance, it was not earth based on his touch, the coarseness meant it was not like marble.

Metal perhaps? Regardless, he came upon many colors, but his brain collected enough of the surroundings, he stepped under an upper platform, the columns golden in color, the sheen was reminiscent of gold. The shade was welcome. Above him, on many thin black pillars this time were buildings of the sort, but they were more elaborate.

The windows were glass, the borders around them were designed outer impressions that resembled monsters swirling around each one. The bottom of each building, a dipped incline leading to a pipe that went under the house, there was three of them. Wavering his eyes, they could see the rise of birds over the calm sky blue and warm.

This landscape, a rainbow nation filled with buildings on top of buildings, the ones black as dark sin seemed bigger, while the varied colors were of a smaller size, the biggest he saw was a bright yellow brick building far ahead, the surface had texture. Slanting to a taper, it seemed to rise to the sky, a cascading stairway. That must be made of stone he thought.

They moved from under this building and down a path, the shadows were not as dark. Eyes adjusted on a wall, where a man on a horse was imprinted, the design seemed simple and yet striking. The wall pulled back as he neared. Shuddering back, Wally spoke, Cool.

Ben was not so sure about that. But it was obvious he was not in a normal place so his expectations would get thrown out the window at the spoken word. From the safe depth of the shadows to the bright overhanging glare to the reflected luxury, he moved from the street to the back of the eerie outland.

The houses, behind them were roads leading up into their landscapes. Each blessed with its own garden, one gold house had the biggest gate entry. Animal motifs and statures like accursed monsters with many arms, their faces frozen. When they step pass, the slanting pathway shook and glowered as the rocks shifted and blocked off the long path leading further down.

Wally stood there ogling Ben and his surroundings with scrutiny. Ben was sure that was on purpose, leading him to where he needed to go it seemed. Well he moved up the platform stepping pass the monsters frozen in time, they moved not an inch.

Coming into view, the flowers showed off their ascent. The scent arresting them, almost to a halt but they pressed on.

Within the distance they saw from their high position, the lowly inner structure of the houses below them. A empty pool in some yards, a forest was infesting eagerly. The walls short, the narrow lines imprinted across it, the top was smooth as the sides rough with stone almost. But Ben saw so much shine he would swear this was steel. 

Wally stay away from the edge. Wally pulled away from the wall, rounding a stature Ben beckoned him over. Overlooked it, the network of the lower buildings was more complex than when looking up.

Taking their time they drifted further inside. The bare walls greeted them, Ben could feel the smoothness and ogle the sheen. This was gold he thought. He knocked it, it did not feel hallow.

Hey dad, they have toys.

Since Wally was twelve he should have outgrown the idea of such things. Ben hesitated to move but Wally goaded him on. At no point did he ask who really lived here. In this city, at this point he was liable to believe he was dreaming.

In a room upstairs, as Wally looked inside a empty little room adjacent Ben. Ben was pursuing the box Wally found. The toys were not very different just made different, a horse figure not of wood but metal. The attention to detail was fine not too advanced. A few more items like paddles and balls. The one thing that peaked his attention was a doll.

Showing a girl, she had head of dragons for arms. It was soft, but the material felt firm. The hair stringy, he untwined it and it fell free. When he removed his hand he felt his fingerprints and noted the softness of the fluid.

Still greased?

Deciding to take the doll with him he advanced from that room and in finding the others, noted more bareness. Except there was a book on a desk, this book looked new, untouched. The cover was a burgundy red, a glossy plate in the centre, the language under it Ben never saw it before.

The symbols looked Arabian to him though he could be wrong. As he touched it, the red shone bright his hand shot back. He ogled the book as it returned back to normal.

Great, more oddities present themselves to him. Taking a step forward he stared down and pulled his head back. What was he to do now?

Looking around he noted the sheets on the bed, cotton, he dragged it off and used it grab the book. Nothing, no shine occurred. Gathering the sheet under the book, he toke his free hand and touched the top of the book.

It glowed.

His hand was enveloped in its red vibrancy, Ben breathed out as he opened the book. Each page, a series of characters almost lined out like a list. Every page was like this. He wondered which language this was? Maybe his linguist friend could help decipher it.

He called Wally and searched further finding nothing of worth. He exited the house with Wally by his side and book in hand.

When the book shot out of the tattered sheets and floated in front of him. He stiffened as Wally surged forward, Ben held onto him.

It was shining, then he heard it.

What archives would you like to read today? a light voice innocent and ripe with joy emitted outward from the book.

Ben uttered not word, unsure of whether he should talk to a book or not. Wally looked up at him.

What archives do you have for me to read? Ben asked cautiously.

Talking in a light humoured male voice, Many actually, Destrovia, Scylla’s Pain, Mocking J, Bain’s light, Zephonus, Blood War, Venice’s Revival, Kronos.

Are these archives, stories? He asked in disbelief.

Yes you can say that, but they are really a piece of history. It said emphatically.

History?

Yes, history, this is only a small portion. Other volumes have other historical records.

Was it the history of this place perhaps? It made sense, Any ruins of old civilizations found would have records of its history, current dealings during that time. That was not what was bothering him though, what was, was the fact that he was talking to a floating book.

That was not possible. No technology on this earth came close. He always heard tales and rumors among his peers in this line of work about the possibility of stumbling on a civilization that was more advanced than human kind.

Did this book held their history?

Ok, if I wanted to read a archive that would introduce me to everything, which archive would that be?

Not compatible.

Not...

No one archive has complete information, each has only pieces.

Ok, so are these stories listed by importance?

Yes.

Can I get the most important one?

Kronos it is.

The pages flip fast, it closes with a thud. When it opens, a light shines through, Ben and Wally shield their faces, as a strong voice echoes.

Yes he is the one, born by you, you should be proud. When he is brought into this world you will name him Avasyu for I begot him to save you and the world today...

CHAPTER 2

Born of fire and milk, the honey that quenches the thirst of the old faithful. He is Vishnu and he is hope. But his name is not Vishnu, no, his name is Avasyu. A reincarnation, he is a stout representation of his master.

One of many plucked and sown into the earth to grow and give shade to the human race, he will give so much and take so much as the pendulum swings into the lives of many. Listen, hear the story of a child’s dream.

Weaved and weighed on the scale of morality. A vast sea of content laid only in the stars shining only on the creators, the Gods.

The world as it was then was filled them both Gods and their servants. Living quite on the edge of each other, Gods were the rulers, the kings and walked with much impunity. The sky, beautifully blue, the earth and trees lush and wondrous, the eyes of the servants were wide in joy as arms wave in elation.

All of them participated in making this world. The same one we stand on, this city is the last remnant of their greatness. Do you know what it is called?

It is Indraprasth, remember that. Gods were very important, making rain, food, cities and the universe dance to the will of their servants.

Their servants were but ugly images of the Gods, but some looked pretty. Some had claws, wings, some had no hair on their body. Very much so, servants rejoiced like children. Beckoning to the feet of the Gods, bestowing sacrifice, offerings with sweet elixir, their love mixed in.

The Gods were many so many, sons and daughter of Gods. Gods from Olympus, Dwarika, Jawa, each had things they were good at. Tasks that was their bread and butter, duties they must not fail at. But with so many Gods, domains and lines had to be made to suffice a clear indication of who controls where.

With this one God would make food grow in domain while the other god would make food grow in another domain. Cooperation was harder to come as time passed. But the thing that was the nail in the coffin was the fickle free will of humans.

Humanity could easily turned their praise wherever they so deemed. It was the principal Gods, the three originals who birthed the other Gods and passed on free will. Saying it was the gift that would keep the world forever unblemished.

Harken the songs unsung, blessed be the foxes, the apes, hairless or bushed to asunder the heat. They change as the wind blows, they move as the course of world’s creatures advanced forward, marching to the precipice, forwarded to the ends of the earth.

With each change so does mood, so goes the glue that keeps Gods friends. Such was the fate of this world. Gods need worship, they need praise without that they are nothing but fixtures. Corks in the machine, nobody wants that. Anyone would want more.

Desire, the thing that starts and drives war, you my friends think there was only two great wars. No, before humans waged war, the Gods invented and perfected it. 

Such was the world Avasyu was born in. Where Avasyu was born in the region of Dwarika, this is where caves of many rooms of the many gods like the many arms that protect humanity now sits. So when you see these papers, parchments depicting these stories of these Gods, Shiva and Vishnu know that it was history written by their ancestors and laid to stone.

Still much was corrupted and changed, like the names of regions. In Dwarika the sun would rise on this couple set deep within the city, the midwife has stood by the mother’s side. 

Avasyu, beautiful baby boy, looked like a human boy but his eyes were different a deep purple blue that touched the soul as soon as he saw you. It was like you could melt into his eyes. 

His mother spoke to him as he rolled and festered in her arms, The Gods are good, to deliver this child to me. Vishnu, the preserver, the majestic and just caretaker of this world, you have blessed me. For this I will love your words and preserve the good of mankind for all the days of my life. Thank you, thank you...

His parents overjoyed brought him up as their own even though they knew he belonged to Vishnu. Avasyu could return to his rightful place at any time, but they would be overjoyed to raise him until then.

Avasyu would live a humble life in the small town of Dagwa, the men walk with pride and the woman drift around in long patterned garments doing the bulk of their duties as the day lit the streets hot.

At the tender age of three he could walk and boy was he adventurous. Each step he took, he searched high and low for anything different than the earthen house with its clay pots and containers.

What statures and dolls he saw he already played with to a great degree. Seeking higher and more than what the yard of his house would offer. Up on the roof, no problem, down the street, of course, but the one place he always kept going for was the tree in the yard.

Gripping onto it, he tried to pull himself up using the scaly bark of the tree. Ripping off weak strands he felt his body lift as his mother’s face came into view. A slight frown and narrowing eyes, he recoiled in insecurity.

Mother Kuchi was always running and chasing him.

Boy you will make me grow muscles in these legs. He would look at her and laugh suddenly like a volcano. She sighed, it was hard to be angry with a face like that. It was so rosy even when covered with a thin coat of dust.

She kissed him, knowing his seeking of life’s mysteries will carry far. Avasyu grew well endowed with the love of his parents. Before long he grew older, a child blessed by the Gods upon man, he was considered a Demi-god as such half humans were called.

He was worshipped varyingly much and considered chosen among the people. Dagwa loved him and were glad to be represented by such a powerful child. Even the mayor shouted back then, All hail this boy, the champion of Dagwa. The god of Dagwa, treat him well so he may never forget us!

The thing about that assumes that for all intents and purposes Avasyu would be a champion for them. Well he had all the qualities. Kind, driven, determined, he loved Dawga, loved his mother Kuchi and father Salah.

At the age