Deep within the forest realm, the air itself felt ancient. It carried the quiet gravity of ages long forgotten by the mortal world. Every breath drawn in that sacred wilderness seemed heavier than ordinary air, filled with whispers of stories that had unfolded long before the rise of human civilisations.
The scent of crushed forest herbs drifted slowly through the clearing. Wild mint mingled with the subtle sweetness of blooming night flowers that had opened beneath the shade of towering trees. Their trunks were massive and weathered, bark carved by centuries of wind and rain. These trees had stood silently through eras that no historian could record, their roots drinking from soil that remembered the birth of mountains and rivers.
At the centre of this tranquil sanctuary sat Devi Aranyani.
She rested comfortably upon a woven forest cushion formed from living moss and intertwined vines. The cushion seemed alive, gently adjusting itself to her presence as if the forest itself wished to cradle its goddess. Before her stood a small tea table carved from the exposed root of an ancient cedar tree. The root had been polished naturally by time and flowing water until its surface had become smooth and warm like silk beneath the fingers.
Across from her sat Rudra.
To any observer, the two would look like companions sharing a quiet afternoon. There was an ease between them, an unspoken familiarity that felt older than memory. Rudra, however, did not understand it. He spoke to her with full reverence, yet something about her presence made him strangely comfortable... as if his soul remembered her from a time his mind could not reach.
Nearby stood Nandi-ji, calm and unmoving, his watchful eyes quietly observing everything.
Beside him towered Ruchika, the manifested deity of the Kalpavriksha. She appeared as a tall, radiant being of living emerald light, her form echoing the grandeur of the wish-fulfilling tree itself.
Yet another presence lingered unseen.
Behind Aranyani, like a shimmer in sunlight, stood Ashok Sundari. Invisible to the mortal world, she leaned gently toward the forest goddess and spoke directly into her mind.
Her voice carried urgency wrapped in affection.
"Godmother…Give him the fruit of the Kalpavriksha now," Ashok Sundari urged.
"The siblings have gathered. The Commander's spear and the Serpent Queen's venom will be too much for his current frame. He is too frail for the tempering they intend. Let him eat, and while the metamorphosis takes hold, send him to the waters of Mata Ganga. Let the first water that touched the feet of the Preserver, Uncle Vishnu, wash over him. He must emerge as a peak being—a vessel strong enough to hold the light of Kailash."
Aranyani's expression remained calm, though her eyes sharpened slightly.
From the air itself, she summoned a folded garment, luminous and soft as moonlight.
"And take this too… the Chandra-Vastra."
The cloth shimmered like silver mist woven into silk—a Dhoti of Chandra-Vastra (Moon-Cloth), woven from the silver rays of a waxing moon and reinforced with the discarded silk of the Great Nagas. It was a garment that would neither tear in battle nor burn in the presence of Agni.
"His mortal clothes will not survive what comes next. Give this to him first… then the fruit of the Kalpavriksha. When the metamorphosis begins, send him to Mata Ganga. Only the waters that first touched the feet of the Preserver can cool the fire that will awaken inside him."
Aranyani accepted the garment with a knowing smile.
"Ah… always thinking ahead," she murmured warmly.
Then she turned her attention back to Rudra.
The Moon-Cloth
Aranyani lifted the shimmering cloth and placed it gently on the table.
"Rudra," she said lightly, almost playfully, "before we continue our tea… You should change into this."
Rudra blinked in surprise.
"This… for me, Devi?"
Her smile widened.
"Of course. Those clothes have travelled far enough. Go on, change into it and discard the old ones."
"This looks beautiful, as if it's specially designed for a Royality than a normal mortal like me. Are you sure I can wear them?" Rudra asked again, as if he still couldn't believe it was for him.
"Yes, Rudra, it's for you, so don't take this much time and stop thinking useless things and go change into them."
Rudra bowed respectfully.
"As you wish, Devi Aranyani."
He lifted the garment carefully with both hands. It felt incredibly light, almost weightless. Holding it felt like holding a beam of cool moonlight.
Behind the clearing stood a curtain of long willow branches drooping toward the ground. Rudra stepped behind them, using the leaves as a natural screen.
The clearing grew quiet.
Nandi ji slowly shifted his gaze toward the cloth that had just disappeared behind the willow curtain.
Recognition flashed within his eyes.
Ruchika stared as well, her emerald aura flickering faintly.
The Chandra Vastra was no ordinary garment.
Across the fourteen realms, only a handful of beings had ever been granted the honour of wearing such cloth.
It was considered a blessing from the moon itself.
The two divine beings exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the significance of what had just occurred.
Neither spoke.
Moments later, the willow leaves parted.
Rudra stepped back into the clearing.
The dhoti wrapped elegantly around his waist, the silver-white fabric moving like liquid moonlight with every step. It sat naturally upon him, as if the garment had always belonged there.
His upper body remained bare.
Rudra stood 5'11", his frame that of an average young man. His shoulders were slightly narrow, his chest lean rather than powerful. There was a softness to his frame that suggested long hours spent reading rather than training. When he inhaled deeply, a faint outline of ribs became visible beneath his skin.
His arms carried enough strength for daily life, but not the density of a seasoned fighter.
Simply put, he looked human.
Perhaps even slightly fragile.
Yet the silver dhoti transformed his appearance subtly.
It gave him a quiet nobility.
Like a prince who had wandered unknowingly into the beginning of his own legend.
Nandi ji and Ruchika exchanged another silent look.
The contrast between the divine cloth and the mortal body wearing it was striking.
Aranyani clapped her hands softly once.
"Much better."
Her tone carried a cheerful warmth.
"Yes… This suits you far more."
Rudra gave a small, embarrassed smile.
"If you say so, Devi."
The Fruit of Kalpavriksha
Aranyani reached calmly into the folds of her living robes.
When her hand emerged, she held a fruit.
It glowed softly.
Its surface looked like molten gold mixed with honey, pulsing gently like a quiet heartbeat.
Even the air around it felt alive.
Ruchika's eyes widened slightly.
Nandi-ji's expression sharpened.
The fruit of Kalpavriksha.
Even among gods, such gifts were rare.
Aranyani extended it toward Rudra.
"Here," she said casually, "and eat this."
Rudra hesitated for only a moment before accepting it with both hands.
"You honour me too much, Devi Aranyani."
He took a bite.
For a brief second, he simply froze.
Then his eyes widened dramatically.
"Wow…"
He blinked in astonishment.
"Devi Aranyani… this is… this is incredibly delicious."
He laughed softly in disbelief.
"It tastes like honey… sunlight… and something else I cannot even describe. It feels like every joyful memory of my life is being poured into my mouth all at once."
He took another bite and a few more…
"This might be the best thing I have ever—"
His sentence stopped halfway.
A strange heat rushed through his body.
Rudra blinked slowly.
"Oh… that's… warm…"
His knees wavered.
He looked toward Aranyani again, slightly dizzy.
"Devi… I think…"
His vision blurred.
"…I might…need to sit.."
The remaining core of the fruit slipped from his hand.
Rudra collapsed gently forward onto the mossy ground.
For a moment, the clearing remained silent.
Then Aranyani slowly rose from her cushion.
She walked around the low tea table with calm, unhurried steps.
Kneeling beside Rudra, she brushed a few loose strands of hair from his forehead.
The cheerful spark in her eyes softened into something far older… and deeper.
Her hand moved gently through his hair.
"Always so dramatic," she murmured fondly.
Then she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss onto the centre of his forehead.
A faint glow appeared beneath her lips.
When she lifted her head, a small luminous 'Bel Patra' mark rested upon his skin like a sacred tilak.
Tiny.
Subtle.
Yet deeply significant.
Aranyani gazed at him for a moment longer, her expression filled with quiet affection.
"Sleep well, Rudra."
She stood gracefully and turned toward the distant thunder of waterfalls.
"The heat will rise soon."
Her voice returned to calm authority.
"Nandi-ji… it is time."
The great guardian nodded.
"Send him to Mata Ganga."
Aranyani looked toward the flowing forests beyond.
"Let the waters that first touched the feet of the Preserver cool the fire within him."
Her gaze returned briefly to Rudra.
A soft smile touched her lips.
"The frail boy must dissolve in those waters."
She whispered, almost like a blessing carried by the wind.
"So that the one destined to rise… may awaken."