Suryasihma, Surya to his friends, of which he currently had none, sat down to meditate in a secluded place. The old, secluded warehouse. No one would bother him here, and most of all, not Vishwa or his cronies. He never understood why Vishwa hated him. Was it because he was a bastard, or something else? At 16 years old, Surya had done very well on the path of cultivation despite his lack of resources due to his status as an illgitemate child.
He felt his core, currently located in the Muladhara, the root chakra. The shakti, or spiritual energy inside it flowing in a circular motion. He directed it towards his meridians, saturating them with shakti. Most thought of the meridians as pathways for energy to flow through. Yet Surya had discovered a method, and stored his shakti in the small cavities and crevices of his 7 main chakra meridians. He then focused on opening a few of his auxillary meredians. There were seven each for each of his seven meridians. Today, he needed to open his seventh chakra. In two days, the sects would be selecting suitable candidates. Having seven chakras open was the minimum requirement to get selected.
He diverted all the remaining shakti in his core to his seventh chakra. The last chakra, Sahasra was the hardest one to open. He attacked the impurities in that chakra. He had to expel them. He fought againsta the blockages. And then, he found one. A crack, a weakness. He pushed with all his force, all his shakti. His body trembled. He was sweating profously.
Thup. A kick to the face woke him up from his trance. The impact from the kick had him of the ground reeling. He opened his eyes to look at those who attacked him. Two young, medium heighted lads with shoulder length hair and a bit of a bead in blue and purple dhotis wearing necklaces stared at him. Their eyes were menacing, like how a fox stares at a helpless chicken, ready for the slaughter or a tiger at a meek calf, ready for slaughter. They were Vishwa’s cronies. The worst people in the three worlds, except for Vishwa.
Surya tried to get up, but he was kicked once again in the face, on the cheeks, which started leaking blood like a punctured tire leaking air.
And the torture was just beginning.
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Suryasihma[ Surya in sanskrit means sun while simha means lion.], Surya to his friends, of which he currently had none, sat down to meditate in a secluded place. The old, secluded warehouse. No one would bother him here, and most of all, not Vishwa or his cronies. He never understood why Vishwa hated him. Was it because he was a bastard, or something else? At 16 years old, Surya had done very well on the path of cultivation despite his lack of resources due to his status as an illgitemate child.
He felt his core, currently located in the Muladhara, the root chakra. The shakti, or spiritual energy inside it flowing in a circular motion. He directed it towards his meridians, saturating them with shakti. Most thought of the meridians as pathways for energy to flow through. Yet Surya had discovered a method, and stored his shakti in the small cavities and crevices of his 7 main chakra meridians. He then focused on opening a few of his auxillary meredians. There were seven each for each of his seven meridians. Today, he needed to open his seventh chakra. In two days, the sects would be selecting suitable candidates. Having seven chakras open was the minimum requirement to get selected.
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He diverted all the remaining shakti in his core to his seventh chakra. The last chakra, Sahasra was the hardest one to open. He attacked the impurities in that chakra. He had to expel them. He fought againsta the blockages. And then, he found one. A crack, a weakness. He pushed with all his force, all his shakti. His body trembled. He was sweating profously.
Thup. A kick to the face woke him up from his trance. The impact from the kick had him of the ground reeling. He opened his eyes to look at those who attacked him. Two young, medium heighted lads with shoulder length hair and a bit of a bead in blue and purple dhotis[ A type of garment worn by men consisting of a piece of material tied around the waist and extending to cover most of the legs.], wearing necklaces stared at him. Their eyes were menacing, like how a fox stares at a helpless chicken, ready for the slaughter or a tiger at a meek calf, ready for slaughter. They were Vishwa’s cronies. The worst people in the three worlds, except for Vishwa.
Surya tried to get up, but he was kicked once again in the face, on the cheeks, which started leaking blood like a punctured tire leaking air.
And the torture was just beginning.
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I float around in the darkness. All is dark and warm. I do nothing, except float around in the darkness. This continues for what, an eternity. And then, I feel the flow of shakti inside my body. I start cycling it, yet my efforts remain futile. Time passes. Days, weeks. I still remember my old life. I think I died. Maybe this is just the afterlife.
“Little child. I grant you the soul visualisation technique, Saraswati’s Hymns of the soul. This is my blessing to you.”
Verses automatically got stored in my mind. I started chanting. With each chant, I could sense my soul. With each chant it grew stronger.
I kept chanting for what felt like an eternity. And then, I could feel a slight push. The push became harder and harder. And then, pop.
I was out. I felt something burn brightly at my face. I feel like I’m kept on a soft cloth. After a few seconds, it felt like a giant lifted me in its rough arms. I opened my eye and looked at him. It was a familiar face, someone I know. It was Vishwa.
“I Vishwaraj, ruler of the city of Adhipashchim Ikshavakunagari, declare this son, the future of our branch. All hail Suryasihma.”
“Hail Suryasihma.”
The one who was my killer, turns out to become my father.