The ground split wider, sending cracks racing across the forest floor like black lightning.
Dust and uprooted trees spiraled upward as an enormous structure pushed itself toward the surface—ancient yet strangely futuristic, like something built by forgotten hands and awakened by unseen command.
The Nihangs watched in silence.
Even the warhorses sensed it—ears pressed back, muscles trembling, hooves shifting restlessly.
Zorawar Singh narrowed his eyes.
"This… was sleeping beneath us?"
Baba Gurdev Singh nodded slowly.
"For centuries, perhaps longer.Some things are buried not by nature… but by intention."
The metallic fortress continued rising until its top level towered above the forest canopy—black, seamless, windowless.
It gave no sign of life.No doors.No sound.
Yet the air around it felt alive—charged with energy like the moment before lightning touches the earth.
The Enemy Rearranges
The mechanical soldiers that had been fighting moments earlier suddenly froze.
Then, as if obeying a silent command, they formed two symmetrical lines on either side of the fortress—creating a corridor that pointed directly toward the Nihang warriors.
Zorawar's grip tightened on his spear.
"They're inviting us."
"Or challenging us," another Nihang muttered.
"No," Baba Gurdev said."It's something worse… they're testing us."
The forest had become a giant eye watching them.
Judging them.
Studying them.
Zorawar felt it clearly now—the same shadow he sensed at the Sarovar, the same ancient presence that had whispered through the waters.
But here it was stronger.
Heavier.
Hungry.
The Call Beneath the Iron
A low vibration pulsed through the air, carrying a faint resonance—almost like a voice speaking from behind metal walls.
Zorawar's heartbeat reacted instantly.
He heard it not with his ears, but with something deeper.
A pull.A summons.A warning.
"Baba ji…" he murmured."It wants me to enter."
The older Nihangs exchanged uneasy glances.
Zorawar continued, "The presence we felt before—it's inside this fortress."
"And it is calling you?" Baba Gurdev asked.
Zorawar nodded.There was no point lying—the force was unmistakable.
But before the elders could answer, a sudden blast of energy erupted from the fortress.
A massive wave of blue-white light shot outward.
The Nihang horses reared.Warriors braced themselves.Trees snapped like twigs.
Yet the light stopped just inches before touching the frontline of the Khalsa.
A barrier.
A boundary.
A line only one person was meant to cross.
Baba Gurdev turned to Zorawar with grave certainty:
"Then it is you the fortress seeks.But you will not enter alone."
Preparing for the Descent
Within minutes, a small strike group formed—Zorawar, five experienced Nihangs, and two horse-mounted scouts.
Each adjusted their armor, tightened their turbans, and readied their steel.
The machines remained motionless, watching.
The vibrating hum deepened, as if growing impatient.
Baba Gurdev placed a hand on Zorawar's shoulder.
"You carry the Guru's fire, Zorawar.But inside those walls… you will face something that predates our understanding of war."
Zorawar exhaled slowly.
"I will not falter, Baba ji."
"You might," the elder replied."But you will rise again. That is the Khalsa's way."
The group approached the threshold where the luminous barrier hovered.
Every step closer made Zorawar feel lighter, as if gravity itself was being tampered with.
The metal structure shifted, creating an opening—a narrow pathway sliding apart silently, leading into darkness.
Warm.Breathing.Alive.
The Descent Begins
The moment Zorawar stepped forward, the barrier parted like a curtain of light.
As he crossed the boundary, the forest behind him vanished into silence.
Inside, the air felt different—heavy with history, with secrets, with something that had been waiting far too long.
The corridor walls pulsed faintly, mimicking the rhythm of a heartbeat.
One of the warriors whispered:
"This is not a building.It's a living machine."
Deeper they went.
Lights flickered awake as they approached, guiding them downward like the inside of an ancient organism.
The path split into three directions.
Zorawar felt the pull again—sharp, unmistakable—toward the central passage.
"That way," he said.
"How do you know?" one asked.
"Because something in there knows me."
They stepped into the central tunnel.
And suddenly—It sealed shut behind them.
The fortress had chosen.
The Chamber of Echoes
The tunnel opened into a massive circular hall—vast, metallic, shimmering with blue crystalline veins.
At the center floated a sphere of shifting light and shadow—alive, conscious, watching.
This was the heart of the fortress.
The moment they entered, every warrior felt the force of its gaze.
A voice—ancient, layered, neither human nor machine—echoed without sound:
"At last… the bearer of the blue flame has come."
Zorawar's blood ran cold.
The warriors drew their weapons—but the voice continued:
"Nihang…You stand where no human has stood in ages.Tell me—Are you ready to face the truth buried beneath the world?"
Zorawar swallowed hard.
This was no enemy.Not yet.Not exactly.
This was a test.
And the truth it promised could shatter everything the world believed.
He stepped forward and answered:
"I am ready."
The sphere's light intensified.
The chamber shook.
The fortress awakened fully.
And the truth began to reveal itself.