July 28, 1942 of Imperial Calendar.
Winter.
“Grab him under the arms,” came a worried woman’s voice, cutting through the ringing in my ears. With astonishment, I realized that I was alive.
‘Did it work? Damn it, could it really have worked?’
Tantric and yogic practices, all that Ohms and Shambhalas—was it all not in vain?
The scent of fine, expensive perfume enveloped me, and with great effort, I opened my eyes, trying to blink away the thick haze. But it was no use—everything seemed cloaked in smoke. All I could discern was the difference between up and down. White walls, yellow lamp spots, silhouettes bustling nearby...
“Your Majesty, the corridor is clear,” said a confident male voice, emanating from a greenish-gray blur.
“Hurry up, Gavriil... hurry. Sit him in the chair,” the woman instructed, and I felt the hard press of metal bars against my back. I wanted to ask what was going on, but when I barely made out a quiet moan, I realized it was coming from my throat.
“Easy, son, everything will be alright,” she soothed.
“Your Majesty, please, quickly,” the man urged. I felt myself being tilted, then jolted. It seemed they had placed me in a wheelchair and were wheeling me down the corridor. I needed to at least wipe my eyes; otherwise, I won’t be able see a thing.
I tried to lift my hand, but despite a great effort, only my fingers twitched.
No, this wouldn’t do. Did I really spend almost twenty years of my life seeking reincarnation, only to end up in a body that couldn’t even move a finger?
The Hindus have created marvellous religion, that had allowed me to reincarnate but I didn’t sign up for this.
Calm down.
‘Let go of worldly concerns…’
I effortlessly slipped into meditation, almost instinctively, scanning my body with my spiritual vision. Of the seven chakras(Life-circle), only one responded easily—the first one, the seat of the soul and the path to reincarnation, the final goal of the yogic path, a chakra whose development usually takes decades.
The remaining six were stifled, embryonic, even worse than a newborn’s. It felt as though this body had never truly lived and had been slowly dying since birth. Judging by its state, this body was about fifteen or sixteen years old.
Moving along the subtle body from the Prophet’s Chakra toward the Root took several minutes, but nothing significant happened during that time. My body continued to shake in the wheelchair. The people pushing me were running, bracing me on turns, but just as I managed to channel a drop of mana into the the second chakra, several people suddenly appeared ahead.
“Zuvorin soldiers are coming! Out of the way!” the familiar voice shouted, snapping me out of meditation. At the same moment, gunfire erupted, pounding against my ears.
Opening my eyes, I tried to focus on the scene. The blurry spots still danced, obstructing my vision, but this time I managed to make out a brief skirmish.
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Five soldiers in red uniforms, with a heraldic shield on their left chest, burst into the path of our group. A man in thick metal armor, painted in green camouflage, immediately shielded my mother and me. Gunfire rained down on him, sparks flying off the steel-titanium armor, but he raised a heavy bulky metal most likely a firearm, and it roared.
BOOOOM!!!
‘A cannon weapon? What nonsense!’
I watched in surprise as the defender ejected a shell casing from the barrel and loaded a new round.
Another shot, and the knight advanced.
But it didn’t last long. The cross fire quickly prevented him, preventing him from getting closer. Just as I was about to bid farewell to my newly earned second life, two fiery wings bloomed on the back of the defender’s armor.
The titanium armoured crashed into a column decorated with lion heads, where two of the opponents had taken cover. The column collapsed under the assault, crushing the Zuvorin guards.
The last soldier emerged from a niche in the opposite corner and aimed his weapon at us. But before he could shoot, “CEASE, THIS INSTANT!!! Flame Engulf!!”
A furious cry sounded behind me, and the soldier screamed as he was engulfed in flames.
“My Queen, you mustn’t!” an anxious female voice exclaimed. “The Inquisitors will sense us!”
“If I don’t protect my son, will one of you do it? Gavriil was already engaged, let’s move quickly.” the woman who had called me her son asked proudly. Well, well, so my mother is a mage? I certainly didn’t mind being born into a world where, aside from spiritual practices, real magic existed, but life hadn’t prepared me for this.
Then again, listening to myself, I realized life hadn’t prepared me for much of anything. A vast swath of my memories was simply gone, and the void grew by the second. By focusing intensely, I managed to recall that I was from…Somewhere in Asia, but no names or relatives came to mind.
What was worse, my knowledge of Tantra-Yoga was rapidly fading as well, like a dream dissolving upon waking.
I wasn’t ready to part with such valuable knowledge, so I threw all my effort into memorizing the most important parts.
Chakras, paths of development, meditations, and healing practices—I repeated everything I knew, instinctively channelling energy into the 3rd and 4th chakras.
Though most of my strength was focused on preserving my memory in this new body’s brain, I inadvertently circulated mana through all the chakras, gradually sensing my body more clearly.
Even the ongoing skirmish couldn’t distract me from this vital task. I merely noted the gunfire and flashes around me. A sharp pain in my left cheek made me wince, but I didn’t open my eyes, forcing my body to ignore the external irritation. This didn’t last long.
A thunderous noise shook me, and I was thrown from the wheelchair.
“Son!” my mother cried, rushing toward me.
“Your Majesty, stay back!” Gavriil shouted. “We must preserve your life!”
“I won’t leave without my son!” she yelled, but the defender grabbed her and shielded her with his body. Gunfire clattered against the back of his armour, sending sparks flying.
“This wasn’t part of the oath! The Demiguards will protect you, My Queen! But someone else will take care of your son,” Gavriil retorted, ignoring her protests as he ran with her in his arms toward the balcony.
The sound of shattering glass rang out, engines roared outside, and the desperate firefight continued in the long corridor where I lay sprawled.
The fleeting scent of perfume was replaced by the acrid stench of gunpowder. Unable to rise, I lay with my cheek pressed against the cold marble floor. To my surprise, the measures I’d taken to infuse my chakras with mana had proven effective. My arms, though weak, had begun to move.
The muscles, though minimal, still existed. It seemed my body had been maintained, possibly with physical therapy for comatose patients. Judging by the palace’s decor, my mother could afford such care.
The tapestries and paintings alone were worth a fortune. But this didn’t bring me any joy. If the building had been smaller, perhaps we could have escaped together.
"Death to the conspirators!" one of the attackers shouted, charging forward but failing to make it even five meters. Several bullets struck the Zuvorin guard, and he collapsed, arms outstretched. Mesmerized, I watched as a grenade, its pin already pulled, rolled from his lifeless hand toward me.
Half a meter. At this distance, if it exploded, I am finished.
‘This body barely moved, and I was already being wheeled to who-knew-where. If this was my true reincarnation, I wanted a refund!!!’