章 14: A Moment of Rest
As Rudra made his way from the temple, the soft glow of the setting sun called to him. The horizon over Somnath's vast ocean beckoned, its waves lapping rhythmically against the shore. He walked slowly, absorbing the sounds of the city winding down for the day, but his mind was elsewhere—on the past, on the countless battles he had fought, and on the heavy weight of the life he had once lived.
The beach was quiet when he arrived, the orange and pink hues of the sky blending with the deep blue of the ocean. Rudra sat down on the soft sand, feeling the cool grains under his hands. The gentle breeze played with his hair, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply exist, no longer the ruler, the warrior, or the scholar—just a man in a new world, watching the sun sink beneath the horizon.
As he gazed out over the sea, memories of his past life began to surface. The days of Ravana—the all-mighty ruler of Lanka, feared by his enemies, revered by his people—came flooding back to him. He had been so consumed by ambition, so driven by his desire for knowledge, power, and the protection of his kingdom, that the very concept of relaxation had slipped away from him.
"I forgot what it was like to rest," he thought, his gaze softening as the sun continued to dip lower. His life as Ravana had been a constant cycle of war, preparation, and relentless self-improvement. He had strived not just for himself, but for the betterment of his people. He had built an empire, a civilization that thrived under his rule, where knowledge, art, and prosperity flourished.
But peace had been fleeting. There were always threats—external and internal—enemies seeking to destroy what he had built. And then, of course, there had been the war with Lord Rama.
That war had been his undoing, the beginning of the end. The devastation it had wrought was incalculable, not just on the battlefield, but within himself. His heart had grown weary, his mind clouded by a complex mix of pride, duty, and rage. The eventual defeat had been inevitable, but it wasn't the defeat itself that haunted him—it was the way it all ended.
For the first time since his rebirth, Rudra allowed himself to remember his death. Not just the physical defeat, but the strange, unsettling peace that had followed. In death, he had found a kind of rest he had never known in life.
"For a brief moment," he murmured softly to himself, "I relaxed."
But that peace had been short-lived. He hadn't been allowed to linger in that calm afterlife for long. A group of beings—he still wasn't entirely sure who—had called his soul back from the depths, tethering him to a new, darker fate. His body had been tampered with, his soul stuck between planes, forcing him to endure the agonies of both realms. The gods had their own plans for him, plans that had made him suffer in ways he hadn't thought possible.
His time in Hell had been torment. The weight of his sins, the consequences of his actions, had all been laid bare before him. And yet, his suffering wasn't complete. He had been stuck—neither truly dead nor fully alive—his soul wandering in the purgatory between worlds.
Rudra clenched his fists at the memory. The pain, the betrayal, the endless torment. But it was more than that—it was the realization that despite everything, he had brought much of this upon himself. His pride, his ambition, his refusal to see the consequences of his actions.
"I won't repeat it," he vowed, his voice barely a whisper over the sounds of the waves. "I won't repeat the mistakes of my past."
He let out a long breath, watching the last sliver of the sun disappear beneath the horizon. In that moment, something shifted within him. The resolve to walk a different path had been building ever since he woke up in this new world, and now, sitting on this beach, it solidified.
This world was different. The wars of old were gone, the gods had retreated from direct involvement in human affairs, and the people had built new ways of life. Rudra knew that if he were to live in this era, he needed to change as well. No more conquests, no more endless battles. He would explore this world with the wisdom of his past, but without repeating its mistakes.
With this newfound clarity, Rudra stood up and brushed the sand off his hands. The beach had been his place of reflection, but now he was ready to move forward. He turned away from the ocean and began the walk back to the inn.
The streets were quieter now, most of the city settling into the evening. As he passed by, a few people glanced at him curiously, but to them, he was just another traveler. It was a strange feeling, being anonymous in a world where he had once commanded armies, ruled cities, and been spoken of in both reverence and fear.
When he reached the inn, the warm light from the lanterns outside cast a soft glow over the entrance. He stepped inside and made his way to his room, the quiet hum of evening prayers from nearby homes filling the air.
Once in his room, Rudra took off his shoes and sat on the small bed. It wasn't luxurious, but it was comfortable enough. He lay back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes.
The thought of what lay ahead lingered in his mind, but unlike before, it didn't weigh him down. He wasn't rushing to make plans, wasn't obsessed with preparing for the next battle or challenge. For the first time in a long time, he felt… still.
As he drifted off to sleep, he thought back to the temple, to the Jyotirlinga, and the immense sense of peace it had brought him. He knew there were more challenges ahead—both from his past and in this new world—but tonight, none of that mattered.
Tonight, he would sleep. Truly sleep. Not as Ravana, the ruler of Lanka, not as the warrior consumed by ambition, but as Rudra, a man who had found peace, even if only for a moment.
And for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Rudra slept soundly, free from the burden of his past, if only for a little while.
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