Chapter 1: The Awakening

The city of New Varanasi was a marvel of modern engineering, a sprawling metropolis where ancient traditions and futuristic technology coexisted in perfect harmony. Towering skyscrapers built of sleek, reflective glass stood beside ancient temples, their stone facades weathered by time. The air buzzed with the hum of hovercrafts zipping through the sky, yet the scent of incense and the sound of chanting still lingered in the narrow streets below.

Rihan walked through the crowded market district, his thoughts distant despite the vibrant chaos around him. Vendors called out, hawking everything from synthetic spices to neural implants, but Rihan's mind was elsewhere. Clutched in his hand was an old, intricately carved bowstick, a relic from a past era—one that had occupied his every waking thought for the past few days.

*Vijayadanusu*, the inscriptions had called it. A name that resonated with power, though its true nature remained a mystery. The bowstick had been found in a forgotten temple in the southern hills, and while it seemed unassuming at first, Rihan couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than met the eye.

"Another dead end," he muttered to himself, weaving through the throng of people. No amount of research had revealed the bowstick's true origins, but the energy it radiated was undeniable. Every time he touched it, a strange warmth spread through his fingertips, as if the artifact were alive.

"Rihan!"

The voice snapped him out of his reverie. He turned to see his friend and colleague, Maya, jogging toward him. Her sleek black jacket glistened under the neon lights, and her expression was a mix of excitement and concern.

"Where have you been?" she asked, catching her breath. "You were supposed to meet me at the lab hours ago."

"Sorry," Rihan replied, offering a half-smile. "I got caught up in… this." He held up the bowstick.

Maya glanced at it, her brow furrowing. "Still chasing myths?"

"You know me," Rihan said with a shrug. "I can't resist a good mystery."

Maya sighed. "You and your obsession with ancient history. Don't you think it's time to focus on the real world? We've got a new project coming up, and you can't afford to be distracted."

"Maybe this is part of the real world," Rihan countered, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "These artifacts—they're more than just relics. I can feel it. There's something important here, something… connected to us."

Maya studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, but promise me you'll be careful. Not everything buried in the past is meant to be unearthed."

"I will," Rihan said, though his mind was already drifting back to the bowstick.

Later that night, Rihan sat alone in his small apartment, the bowstick laid out on the table in front of him. The carved symbols seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light, their meanings just out of reach. He traced a finger over the wood, trying to connect the dots in his mind.

And then it happened.

A sudden, blinding flash of light filled the room. Rihan recoiled, shielding his eyes, but the light seemed to pierce through him, enveloping his entire being. His heart raced, and for a moment, he felt as if he were floating in a void, suspended between time and space.

When the light faded, he was no longer in his apartment. He found himself standing on a vast battlefield, the sky darkened by storm clouds and the air thick with the scent of blood and steel. In the distance, warriors clashed with swords and spears, their battle cries echoing across the plains.

Rihan's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't just a vision—it felt real. He looked down at his hands and saw they were no longer his own. They were the hands of a warrior, calloused and strong, gripping a bloodstained bow.

He knew this place. He had been here before, in another life.

"Karna."

The name echoed in his mind, a whisper from the depths of his soul. He turned and saw a figure approaching him through the chaos. Tall and imposing, clad in golden armor, with a fierce yet serene expression, the man radiated power.

"Who… who are you?" Rihan managed to ask, though deep down, he already knew the answer.

"I am your past," the figure said, his voice both distant and familiar. "I am the warrior you once were, the life you once lived. You are Karna, reborn."

Rihan staggered back, the weight of the revelation crashing down on him. "This can't be real…"

"It is real," the figure insisted. "You have been chosen again, to continue the battle that never truly ended. The world needs you, Rihan."

Before Rihan could respond, the battlefield began to dissolve, the scene melting away like smoke in the wind. The sounds of war faded, replaced by the quiet hum of his apartment.

Rihan found himself back in his chair, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The bowstick lay before him, its symbols now glowing with an eerie light.

He reached for his phone with trembling hands and called Maya. The line buzzed for a moment before she picked up.

"Rihan? What's wrong?"

"Maya," he whispered, still shaken. "I… I think I just had a vision. A memory. I saw… I was… Karna."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Maya's voice, cautious but curious. "Karna? The warrior from the Mahabharata? Are you sure?"

"I don't know," Rihan admitted. "But whatever this is, it's just the beginning. Something's happening, Maya. Something big."

He hung up and stared at the bowstick once more. The symbols seemed to pulse with energy, as if alive, calling out to him.

Rihan knew that his life had changed forever in that moment. The world he thought he knew had been shattered, and in its place, a new reality was emerging—one where myths were real, and his past would determine the fate of the future.