Prologue

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Lucid dreaming. As dangerous as staring in the face of the Death Lord. That's what she does. She faces Death over and over and over, until she wakes up broken and shattered. But it is needed. And necessary. In these times of battle.

History never recorded her sacrifices. She remains unknown, when she should have been worshiped. The most influential individual in the battle, the woman who could have ceased the massacre. But she didn't. Her alter ego ensured that the war wiped out all ravenous, regardless and ruthless kshatriyas . Give birth to a new era of humans. 

The personnification of grandeur, royalty, power and death was she. Not human, but the vortex itself. The vortex that can't be manipulated, but the vortex that manipulates. A goddess for the oblivious humans. 

Dreaming. Creating. Seeing things that don't belong to the known dimensions. Shifting, changing, a fickle fluid. First birth and last death. 

Blood appears. Blood disappears. Her eyes see red. Her ears hear screams.

Abhimanyu dies.


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