The sky, which was once calm and blue, had now become a strange mixture of purple and black colors; there was darkness everywhere that was blocking the light, with large red patches here and there that looked as if they were the color of an old wound.
In the middle of that unknown place, on that barren land where there was no essence of life, someone was standing amidst the ruins. The city that was once full of life, the buildings where civilization used to reside—now there was only dust, spread by the collapse of the buildings around them. The roads had burst open, and strange black vines had grown everywhere. Silence and only silence all around, a suffocating atmosphere as if even the air was not ready to come here. Amidst this suffocating atmosphere, he started walking and muttered, "It was all my fault, wasn't it? If I hadn't done this..." and then he fell down, and then started crying, but now his eyes had dried up; there were no tears in them now, they had withered away.
The ground on which he stood—this was now neither Earth nor SATAL—it was a distorted fusion of both worlds, a world born from an unnatural union. It all started when that person, who was now lying there, gave birth to an invention on Earth that was capable of teleporting to other dimensions, and then, in the चक्कर (pursuit) of increasing its power, he could not handle it and he brought the entire world into this dimension. SATAL—here some rules were different; the beings here were just like humans but they possessed mastery over elements; they could control fire, water, air, metal, and many other types of elements present in this world to a great extent.
And that figure whose name was Shubhu, he had almost destroyed both these worlds. Everything was his fault. This thought never left him. His experiment was the cause of this destruction—the merger of Earth and SATAL, which gave birth to this disaster—and millions of lives were lost. He had tried to play with the fundamental forces of time and space, but he could not control them. When both worlds collided, there was devastation everywhere; everything was about to end. Then the sleeping gods of both worlds, who never even used to pay attention to this world, stepped forward and created a new system, searched for heirs to their powers, and cursed him for this, named him "Evil Eye"—he who was the root of all evil and catastrophe. And those who survived hated him to the core of their bones—he, who was responsible for all this, was considered worse than demons. In every prayer of the people, there were pleas for his death; the name 'Shubhu' had become an insult.
He had destroyed the happiness of both worlds. But for what?
Shubhu stood up again, carrying the weight of his body; he was walking slowly, the broken stones crunching under his worn-out shoes, leaving trails of blood behind him that were coming from his feet. He had no sense of time now; he didn't know how many days and nights had blended into each other. There was a strange pull within him—as if an invisible thread was pulling his soul, calling him somewhere, to a place whose name he did not know. And then he felt a gust of cold air that passed through the deserted streets; the hair hanging on his face rose slightly with the wind. His yellow face had lost its color, there were only hollows in place of eyes, and his yellow face had completely dried up. That passing wind moved ahead, carrying an unknown stillness with it. It felt as if this world was conscious of his presence—watching him. The sound of every step he took would echo back to his ears, making his loneliness deeper, which would give a deeper wound in his chest.
And then he saw them. At first, they were just a faint shimmer in the corner of his eye. But when he turned to look, they became clearly visible—souls, glowing softly amidst the ruins. They were floating slightly above the ground, their shapes blurred, like a flame burning peacefully in the air. Shubhu froze, got scared, and stumbled back and then fell; he wanted to scream but he had even forgotten how to speak. He tucked his head between both his knees and started shivering. After a while, he looked up; there was nothing. "Was there really something there?" he said in his mind. Or had his mind broken along with the world?
Then night came and he saw them again, but this time Shubhu was ready. He too wanted someone to give him liberation from this painful life; many times he had tried to die, but perhaps because of some curse by those gods, his soul was not leaving his body. Perhaps there was no space left for him even in hell. He looked at them with his dead eyes. But as soon as he met their gaze, those glowing forms slowly started coming closer to him, their light becoming brighter. One light stopped right in front of him—just a short distance away. He could feel its presence—soft, warm, the exact opposite of this broken, cold world. They did not speak, yet somehow he was able to feel something... a connection.
We are here.
This thought was not his, yet it was perfectly clear. Shubhu's heart started beating fast—not out of fear, but out of a strange sense of recognition. These creatures seemed connected to him, as if they were waiting for him. "Who... who are you?" he asked in a dry, cracked voice. They did not answer in words, but their light began to throb slowly, exactly with the beating of his heart. All the others also began to float around him, looking at him, as if in some hope. Images began to flicker in Shubhu's mind. And then they began to touch his body and thoughts began to come into Shubhu's mind. Were these souls born from this catastrophe? From the merger of Earth and SATAL? And why were they looking at him like this?
You are not alone.
This thought struck him like lightning. Not alone? A small, bitter laugh escaped Shubhu's lips. He had never been this alone. The gods had abandoned him, and whoever survived probably hated him. How could he not be alone? But they came closer, their glow soft and comforting. They surrounded him—creating a small circle of warmth in this cold, broken world. "Why... why are you here?" his voice barely came out. The nearest light moved forward, its glow shimmering slightly. It was not human, yet there was something familiar in its presence.
Shubhu's brows furrowed. Like him? That light had no existence. He was just a human—a scientist who had tampered with powers far beyond his understanding. And now he was paying the price. But somewhere deep inside him, he felt that it wasn't just that. His experiment was not just an accident—it was part of something much bigger, something that was connected to him. Those beings sensed his confusion. Their light flashed slightly, as if they were waiting for him to understand. They were not judging him. They did not hate him. "You... you don't hate me?" his voice trembled. The light came even closer, casting a warm glow on his face.
No. We are with you.
Something broke inside Shubhu. He fell to his knees—exhaustion, guilt, loneliness—everything poured out at once. Wet tears began to flow on his dry cheeks; he was crying as much as he hadn't even cried when the whole world rejected him—like a first-born child. Those beings remained around him, their gentle light supporting him. For the first time after the destruction, a fragile spark of hope ignited within him, for the first time he felt that warmth which was giving him peace. Weak, but true. These beings—who were born from the same chaos that destroyed everything—they did not hate him. They were not afraid of him. They were with him.
Note: Did you feel it...? Shubhu's story is not just about a devastated world. There is something deeper hidden beneath it—something hidden under every crack in the sky and every echo vibrating within him. His past is still in the shadows. A scientist... yes. But one who could reach the core of time and space? No ordinary human can do that. That merger of Earth and SATAL—was it really an accident? Or was Shubhu always connected to those powers which he himself could not understand? And these glowing existences, these bright souls... why do their heartbeats match his? When the whole world fears him, why don't they?
Readers might think: Are these souls really the remnants of destroyed worlds... or are they echoes of some higher realm—a realm Shubhu is unknowingly connected to? The truth is simple, but also terrifying: Shubhu does not feel a connection to them because they are born from chaos—but rather, because perhaps Shubhu himself is born from an even greater source. His past is the key. Worlds broke... but perhaps Shubhu was created only to enter a third realm, a place from where Divine Echoes take birth.
"Divine Echoes" has just begun.