Morning came quietly to Rudra-Prayag.
Mist rolled down from the high Himalayan slopes, drifting between stone houses and narrow paths like wandering spirits. The first rays of sunlight touched the temple spire, turning the metal trident into a line of molten gold.
Inside the shrine, the child slept.
Navin did not stir like ordinary infants. There were no restless movements, no soft cries, no searching hands.
He lay perfectly still.
Too still.
Priest Kashyap had barely slept. All night he had watched the child from across the temple floor, afraid that if he closed his eyes, something impossible might happen.
Or worse—
Nothing might happen at all.
At sunrise, he approached the infant.
Navin's eyes were open.
Watching.
Not wandering like a baby's gaze, but focused.
Aware.
Kashyap felt a strange unease under that quiet stare.
It felt less like being looked at—
and more like being understood.
"You are awake early," Kashyap said softly.
The child did not respond.
Of course he would not. He was only an infant.
Still, Kashyap felt compelled to speak.
"It is said," the priest murmured, adjusting the oil lamp near the altar, "that every soul carries echoes of its past lives."
He paused.
"But what past could you possibly have?"
Navin blinked slowly.
The flame of the oil lamp trembled.
Just slightly.
Kashyap froze.
There was no wind.
The temple doors were closed.
Yet the flame leaned toward the child.
The same way it had the night before.
Slowly.
Hungrily.
The priest stepped back.
The flame straightened instantly.
As if nothing had happened.
Kashyap swallowed.
"Perhaps I am imagining things," he whispered.
But deep in his heart, he knew he was not.
Later that day, the villagers came to see the child.
News had spread quickly through the mountain settlement.
Some brought offerings.
Milk.
Flowers.
Rice.
Others came only to look.
The women whispered among themselves.
"He does not cry."
"He does not move."
"Is he healthy?"
One old woman leaned closer to Navin.
"He looks at people as if he is older than us."
Another quickly touched the temple floor and muttered a prayer.
"Do not speak like that."
The village headman arrived by afternoon.
He studied the child carefully.
"Strange things follow this boy," he said.
Kashyap nodded silently.
"I have noticed."
The headman hesitated before speaking again.
"Last night, the cattle became restless."
"They refused to sleep."
"And the dogs howled without reason."
Kashyap said nothing.
Because he had heard them too.
All night.
As evening approached, the village slowly grew quiet.
Smoke rose from cooking fires.
Children returned home.
The mountain winds grew colder.
Inside the temple, Navin remained awake.
Watching.
Always watching.
Kashyap sat beside him.
"You should sleep," the priest said gently.
But the child did not close his eyes.
Instead—
something strange happened.
The air grew heavy.
Not hot.
Not cold.
Just dense.
Like invisible water filling the room.
Kashyap felt pressure against his chest.
His breathing slowed.
The flame of the oil lamp shrank.
Not flickering—
shrinking.
As if the light itself were being consumed.
Kashyap's heart began to pound.
The sacred vibrations of the temple—
the subtle spiritual energy that filled the shrine—
began to fade.
Drawn inward.
Pulled toward the child.
Navin did not move.
He did not raise his hands.
He did not speak.
Yet the unseen flow continued.
Steady.
Silent.
Unstoppable.
Kashyap struggled to stand.
"What… are you?"
he whispered.
For a moment—
everything stopped.
The pressure vanished.
The flame returned to normal.
The air felt alive again.
Navin blinked once.
Slowly.
Peacefully.
Like a child drifting toward sleep.
Within seconds—
he was asleep.
Kashyap collapsed to the floor.
Sweat covered his forehead.
His hands trembled.
He looked at the sleeping infant with fear and awe.
"This power…"
"It is not learned."
"It is not trained."
"It simply exists."
Outside the temple, the night sky stretched endlessly above the mountains.
The stars shone with distant light.
Far beyond mortal sight—
something ancient stirred.
Not in anger.
Not in fear.
But in recognition.
The Void had taken its first breath in the world of men.
And somewhere in the silent reaches of existence—
even the gods had begun to notice.