The city was teetering on the edge.
A viral video had sparked outrage across the nation—a Shiva idol vandalized, a temple set ablaze.
News anchors were shouting.
Politicians were fuming.
The footage, though doctored, had done its job. Protests erupted, all orchestrated by Narak's unseen hand.
Mumbai was in turmoil.
At the heart of the chaos stood a temple—ancient, crumbling, and now encircled by furious crowds. Anika and Shiva observed from a rooftop across the street.
"This is your fault," she murmured.
Shiva didn't dispute it.
"I didn't start the fire," he replied.
"But the truth always makes shadows scream."
Stones flew through the air as police in riot gear clashed with protestors.
A child cried in a corner.
A man loaded a gun from a hidden alley.
Then Shiva stepped forward.
Anika grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"
He looked at her. "What needs to be done."
He descended the stairs like thunder incarnate.
As he entered the crowd, time seemed to stretch. A stone hurtling toward him froze mid-air. Guns malfunctioned.
Eyes were fixed on him.
Some people dropped to their knees, not even knowing why.
And then, without warning, it happened.
His third eye opened.
Not with fire.
With clarity.
A wave of blue light surged through the mob. Not destructive—revealing.
Each person confronted their karma. The man with the gun saw the son he had abandoned. The rioter saw his grandmother lighting a diya in the very temple he was trying to destroy.
The police officer recalled the child he nearly struck as his own.
One by one, they laid down their weapons. The anger didn't vanish—it transformed into understanding. Some wept. Some prayed. Some simply sat in silence. The temple bells rang on their own.
Above it all, Shiva stood, his eye still glowing. A boy stepped forward. "Are you a god?"
"I am what you see when your eyes are closed," he answered.
Then the glow faded. The moment slipped away. But the memory lingered.
---
Across the globe, spiritual leaders reported a wave of awakenings.
In Tibet, monks experienced visions of the eye.
In Brazil, shamans twirled in circles of light.
Meanwhile, in cyberspace, Project Narak hit a snag.
Its algorithms just couldn't make sense of what had unfolded.
Raut slammed a console in frustration. "Reboot the Narak core!" he shouted.
"But sir, we lost emotional control fields for five whole minutes!" "Patch the feed, rewrite the moment.
Make him the villain!" "Sir... people are calling it a miracle."
Raut's anger simmered. "Then we'll turn miracles into madness."
---
Anika grasped Shiva's hand as they stepped away from the temple grounds.
"I saw... myself," she confessed.
"All of me. Even the lifetimes I tried to bury." Shiva nodded knowingly. "The third eye sees not just others—but the self. It's unforgiving and unfiltered."
"So why don't you open it more often?" "Because the world rarely seeks the truth." She glanced back at the crowd—still in shock, some still weeping.
"But they're ready now." He looked at her intently. "Then let's remind them of what they've forgotten."
Above them, the sky danced with an unusual aurora.
Satellites flickered.
For the first time, global digital traffic dipped by 2%. People weren't scrolling.
They were simply breathing. And in the stillness that followed, the third eye stayed open.
Not to destroy.
But to remember.