The story opens deep in the Himalayas beneath a full moon. A vast temple of Lord Shiva stands among ancient pines — a place of stone, smoke, and low chanting. Dozens of monks and sages sit in the main hall, their voices rising and falling in a long, resonant OM that seems to fill the forest itself.
Tonight the wind is slow, but inside the temple the air chills. In front of the great lord Shiva statue, a young sage sits alone — seventeen or eighteen years old, yet honored as the temple's chief. He remains calm while other monks fidget nervously. Snow swirls against the temple walls and then, without warning, the wind sharpens. Flurries sweep through the prayer room; the earthen lamps gutter as a blast of cold air rushes past.
Panic ripples through the hall. Most monks stand and shout; only the young sage remains seated, composed.
One monk whispers, voice trembling, "It feels like something bad is coming."
The young sage's voice is low and steady. "Do not panic. Sit. The day is come Summon the Upper Guardians."
"One among them is here, Master," a monk replies.
Outside, two guards patrol the outer wall near the main gate. Their breath fogs in the cold night. One squints through the snow. "Hey—look. Something's coming toward us."
"What now?" the other mutters.
Through the wind they just make out a figure — a man wearing a round cap studded with bells that jingle faintly in the gale. He carries a trident and moves slowly toward the gate. As he approaches, one guard recognizes the mark on the cap and freezes.
"Open the gate — it's an Upper Guardian!" he shouts. "Open it at once!"
The gate grinds open. The man with the trident strides into the prayer hall and kneels before the young sage.
"Master, you summoned us?" he asks.
The young sage nods. "Tapan — where are the others?"
"Hunting," Tapan replies. "Master, do you need more guardians? What troubles you?"
"Go south," the sage says. "There is a village. Tonight a child will be born there. Bring the child and the mother to the temple. Their lives are in danger."
"In danger… from whom?" Tapan asks, fear tightening his voice.
"From Asura," the sage answers.
Tapan swallows. "Asura?"
"Yes. Hurry. Take some monk-guards with you — for the village's safety, and in case they are already hunting for the child."
"Understood, Master." Tapan bows and rushes out.
At the same time, far away in the shadows, a ruthless demon emerges from the darkness. He shouts loudly, "Vina!"
Vina appears in front of him, trembling. "Y-yes, my lord? What brings you here before a servant like me, my lord?"
"What brings me here? What happened to those two guardians I ordered you to kill?" the demon growls.
"My lord, I… I eliminated both of them."
Asura grabs Vina's neck and lifts him with ease. "Do not lie. Have you forgotten that I know EVERYTHING you do? You coward. You ran away because that man cut off both your hands — and he would have killed you if Karma hadn't appeared. He fought against both of you while trying to save his pregnant wife. He sacrificed his life to protect his wife and unborn child. Pathetic!"
Asura throws Vina aside. A throne made of skulls rises from the ground, and he sits upon it. A green sword materializes beside him.
Vina, breathing heavily and terrified, crawls forward. "P-please… my lord… forgive me. Show mercy… give me another chance. Please, my lord!"
"You fool. Do you have any idea what is happening?" Asura asks coldly.
Vina bows his head. "N-no, my lord… but I will find out."
"This is why I do not like you," Asura says. "In the south, tonight a child is being born. Bring that child to me. If you fail… you already know what awaits you. Now go."
"Yes, my lord. I will fulfill your command."
Vina gathers many Asura demons and races south to find the child and his mother.
A deep voice echoes from behind Asura, "My lord… do you really think he is the right one for such a task?"
"Karma," Asura says coldly, "do not forget who I am. Do not cross your limits."
A crushing gravitational force throws Karma to his knees. "N-no, my lord…" he groans in pain.
"If Vina fails, you will take his place. You have served me well… so do not disappoint me."
The temple gates creak open once more. Tapan steps out into the freezing storm, the bells on his cap jingling softly against the roar of the wind. Snow lashes against his cloak.
Behind him, five monk-guards follow, carrying torches that flicker and struggle against the cold. The light from the torches glows like fireflies in the endless white.
Tapan turns to them.
Tapan: "Stay close. The south road disappears easily in this storm."
The monks nod silently and follow his lead.
As they descend the mountain path, lightning flashes faintly across the sky—not natural lightning, but dark and twisted, like the veins of a storm possessed by a spirit.
Tapan stops, sensing something.
He presses two fingers to the snow, whispers a mantra, and the trident in his hand glows with a soft blue aura.
Tapan (thinking): Asura's presence... already spreading this far north? We have go fast you guys hari up . Yes my lord.
South of the temple, in a quiet village, the peace of the night is shattered by the cries of a woman in labor.
At the center of the village, a small wooden house glows faintly with the light of a single earthen lamp. Inside, Devika struggles in pain, her body shaking as she gives birth. An elderly woman — nearly sixty — kneels beside her, guiding her gently.
"Push, Devika," the old woman urges. "Just a little more. You're strong. Almost there."
With one final cry, the sound of a newborn fills the room.
The old woman smiles with relief.
"It's a boy."
Devika gasps for breath as the child is placed in her arms. Her exhaustion fades when she looks at his face. Tears well in her eyes — tears of relief, love, and disbelief.
Then she notices something.
A glowing mark on the left side of the baby's forehead.
Her breath catches.
"Oh… my child," Devika whispers softly. "The mark on your forehead… it looks like the symbol ."
The old woman nods slowly.
"That is no ordinary sign. Have you thought of a name?"
Devika smiles weakly through her tears.
"Yes. His father and I chose it long ago."
She looks at her son with fierce love.
"His name will be Shiva. When he grows, he will be powerful like Lord Shiva. He will protect humans from the Asura… and he will become their destruction, just like the God of Destruction himself."
---
Outside the house, a faint sound breaks the silence.
The old woman stiffens.
She carefully opens the door, holding the earthen lamp high.
"Shita?" she calls. "Are you there? What was that sound?"
A young woman stands in the snow, her face pale with fear.
"Yes, granny… it startled me too," Shita says. "I came to see what it was."
She takes a step closer to the bushes, then freezes.
"Granny…" her voice shakes. "There's something in the snow."
Dark liquid spreads across the white ground, staining it black.
"What is that?" Shita whispers.
The old woman's face hardens with dread.
"Don't go near it," she warns. "It could be a wild animal — a wolf or a bear."
Too late.
The bushes rustle.
Something unnatural rises from within.
Before Shita can scream again, an Ashur lunges forward.
In a single brutal motion, it cuts off her head.
Her body collapses into the snow.
The old woman screams — a sound torn from her soul — and slams the door shut, locking it with shaking hands.
Inside, Devika looks up in terror.
"Granny?" she whispers. "What happened outside? Why are you so scared?"
The old woman leans against the wall, her body trembling uncontrollably.
She speaks in a broken, breathless whisper.
"As… Asura…"
Devika tightens her grip on her newborn child.
The lamp flickers.
And the night grows darker. somewhere in the storm, the baby symbol Glow faintly and something smiled in darkness.