Journal of General Kaya, Last Entry
I remember when Mahadeva was killed, those interminable millenia ago. It's hard to put into words the horror that filled us as the sun stopped it's movement, birth and death ceased to function, life itself turned against us and horror walked the land. I wasn't a general back then, but my family connection to The Vimana ensured an officer's rank. I was young and proud and I scornfully spurned those who questioned Surya's plan. But it became rapidly apparent that our Sun-god could not replace his slain creator, and panic filled the ranks. In this environment did Priestess Aranyani's remorse ensnare many hearts, mine included. She claimed to have a plan to save us all and I followed her, turning on my uncle and my empire and my god.
But no fool was I. I would not replace one blind loyalty with another. I was highly-enough ranked to know of Aranyani's last mission. I knew her rebellion for what it was… guilt. After the war was over and the remaining Surya-loyalists were put to the sword, their souls to join their god in torment, I hesitated to cling to her banner. Yama's alternative seemed to me a far more practical way to help rebuild the shattered Whorl. And so it proved for so very long. But even the greatest soldier tires of war, and so once more I listened to the words of a charismatic priestess, this one preaching the solace of true death.
And now here I stand, guarding over an intact, archived copy of Mahadeva buried deep in Elemental Earth. I am old enough and tired enough to know that this is not my responsibility to decide what to do with it. I aided my new priestess and her youthful companions in slaying the soul-spliced abomination Rama left behind to guard it and I stood, mostly silent, while they interrogated Mahadeva's archived knowledge. It was clear that it was a struggle for them to grapple with so much, but it was equally clear that many conflicts that have plagued them were smoothed out by what they learned. For me, I experienced a strange sense of destiny, having seen the beginning of a millennial interregnum and now, listening to them plan, having seen the beginning of its end.
It is still merely a storehouse of knowledge. There is no personality, no true soul, contained therein. There is work yet to be done. But the necessary pieces exist. How Nekumi and her companions will put them together, and how their plans will change when contacted with the other two teams of god-chosen, remain to be seen. But I will do my duty and guard this place against those who would stop the Great Work.
I'm not entirely sure why I resisted the honeyed words of Rama. I resisted the temptation of my dreamt-of true death, one which he, it seems, truly granted in his last moments. But where he could grant death, so too can others once the secrets of this place are discerned. Perhaps it's the habits of military discipline. See to your men then see to yourself. Whatever the reason, I have one last duty to complete before I can rest. Nekumi gave it to me and the others, and I will see it through.