The ocean breathed in reverse.
Amaya stood on the research vessel's deck, watching as the tide receded far faster than nature allowed—exposing a stretch of seafloor that hadn't seen air in millennia. The water pulled back with eerie precision, revealing a circular patch of unnaturally smooth stone carved with lotus petals.
"That's not supposed to happen," muttered Dr. Nalin, the lead marine archaeologist, adjusting his glasses. "Tides don't work that way."
Arin's dive knife was already in his hand. "It's not a tide. It's an invitation."
The Exposed Seafloor, 9:47 AM
The lotus stone was colder than ice. Amaya's bare feet stuck to its surface as she stepped onto the revealed pathway, each petal depression filled with seawater that refused to evaporate. The team followed hesitantly, their instruments going haywire.
"Readings make no sense," said Dr. Nalin, slapping his tablet. "This stone predates all known civilizations by at least—"
A crack like thunder cut him off. The lotus stone split down the middle, revealing a staircase that spiraled into darkness. From below came a sound that defied physics: the distant echo of a drum beating in perfect sync with Amaya's pulse.
Arin caught her arm. His fingers trembled—not from fear, but from something deeper. Recognition. "They're waking up."
The Submerged Temple, 11:31 AM
Glowsticks cast jagged shadows across walls carved with ten-faced kings and winged chariots. The air was thick with the scent of salt and something metallic—like old blood. Amaya's map burned in her pocket, its edges fusing with her skin wherever it touched.
Then they found the mural.
Twenty feet tall, it depicted the Pushpak Vimana mid-flight, its crystal wings outstretched. Below it, a priestess (her face uncannily like Amaya's) stood before Asurya, offering a glowing key. The inscription beneath read:
"The Keeper binds the sky to earth, lest memory die twice."
Dr. Nalin's camera flashed. The moment the light hit the mural, the paint moved. The priestess turned her head. Her eyes met Amaya's.
The team screamed. Amaya heard only the drum—louder now, joined by chanting from the staircase above.
The Coral Obelisk, 2:15 PM
It stood at the chamber's heart, crusted with barnacles that fell away at Amaya's touch. The ten faces emerged one by one, their mouths open in silent screams. When she pressed her palm to the center, the stone turned transparent, revealing—
The Pushpak Vimana.
Not ruined. Not ancient. Pristine, floating in some impossible space between the obelisk's molecules. Its control panel bore the same symbols she'd drawn in her sleep.
Arin's knife clattered to the ground. "It's really here." His voice broke. "After all this time."
A rumble shook the temple. From above came the distinct sound of boots on stone—too many, too organized.
The Brotherhood had found them.
The Chamber's Secret, 2:47 PM
As the first black-robed figure descended the stairs, Amaya did the only thing she could think of. She spoke to the obelisk in that dream-tongue:
"Agni patha vimānasya!"
The world inverted.
Water rushed upward as the chamber flooded in reverse. The Brotherhood members screamed as their robes filled with rising sea, but Amaya and Arin stood untouched in a bubble of dry air. The obelisk cracked open, revealing not stone, but sky—and the waiting Vimana.
Arin grabbed her hand. "It remembers you."
Somewhere in the chaos, Dr. Nalin shouted words that chilled her:
"You don't know what you're waking up!"