Entering the cave, they first encountered darkness. Then a clearing faded into view, plants and creaks going across it. In the middle was a giant sculpture of a man holding the Veda book, with four faces. One in each cardinal point, and his hand was raised as to greet them.

“That’s the deva Brahma,” Amara said but Amos shook his head.

“Brahma wasn’t a deva. He is the Anterion. A being of the universe, born from the first Anterion Khaos.”

Amara frowned at him,”Prahlada mention something similar.”

“And he was correct. No surprise considering he is a asura. They should know their creator.”

“But how do you know about him?”

“My family is very old, having ties to gods and supernatural beings. We learn, teach and guard magic,” Amos explained as they walked over, Amara noticed him watching the surroundings, stepping carefully on the ground as if he was testing it for traps.

“Then what are you doing in India?”

“Magic isn’t natural here. It comes through to our world from other realms such as the one we are currently in. The last thousand years, our magic has faded. Only a few places have still sources of magic. India is one of them. We don’t know why but we hope that if we study what gives this country so much magic then we might create nexuses in our own as well.”

“Nexuses?”

“Pools where magic gather. They are rare but powerful. We know of several in Africa, and some in China. Lately we have found out that the rivers in India seem to lead magic through the country but we have no idea where the nexus lies.”

“Did you want to study the temple because you suspected it was a nexus?” Amara asked, suddenly starting to understand Amos strangeness when the temple first showed up.

“Nexuses are powerful sources of magic that both gift the world with magic but also brings great calamity. They need to be guarded and hidden from those who would misuse it. Considering that the temple was hidden, I strongly suspect that this is the source of magic in India, or at least one of them.”

“One of them?” Amara watched Amos inspect the sculpture, touching it as he searched for instructions.

“If there is a portal to the city of the asura then there must be a one to the city of the devas as well, and considering that the devas are still around, I suspect it might be wide open. Flooding magic into India,” Amos muttered, finally walking back to them. “There is no inscription.”

“Then what do we-“

Silas suddenly jumped up on the statue, climbing it with eerily speed before halting by the hand holding the Veda scripture. “There is a inscription here.”

Amos leaned down, painting an identical circle to the ones he had drawn outside the cave before, touching the circle. “Osrecca muluceps succucreper.”

The circle glowed, its light turning into a large mirror floating in the air which Amos seem to control. He pushed it towards the sculpture, angling it so the scripture could be seen by Amara and Amos on the ground.

Silas jumped down, looking far calmer than Amara felt by the demonstration. It was both farcinating and mindbreaking. She had spent her entire life telling her mother than there is no such thing as gods, and magic. Now with the proof in front of her, she would have to apologize to her mother… “Maybe I can convince Amos not to mention any of this.” 

“Can you read it?” Amara asked curious. It has similarities to Sanskrit but not enough for her to understand it.

“We practicing magic uses ancient languages, but since magic comes from a mirror realm, we also need to use the language backwards. Otherwise we will get nothing or only half the result of our spells. Try to read it backwards.”

Frowning, Amara turned to the scripture again. “That’s a mantra.”

“To Brahma,” Amos clearified.

“Why is it giving us a mantra?” Amara sighed, seriously tired of hearing them.

“Mantras are powerful magic from ancient times, given to the ancient Hindi people by the Devas.”

“Well, if we don’t read them backwards then they won’t work according to you,” Amara muttered, pouting like child at the reproach in Amos voice.

“Who said you aren’t already reading it backwards,” Amos eyes were twinkling.

“What?”

“We are unsure of why why, but for some reason you read Sanskrit the wrong way. Originally this spell was read, mo, ayanamtadev ehamdiv ayahbragaynarih ihamihd onnat amharb tayadohcarp. But the ancient sages found out that the way to summon magic with the language was to mirror it and taught it to the people. Suddenly the Sanskrit became a mirror language used by everyone. Every word called on magic in those who had it. A dangerous but fascinating repricussion of their action.“

“So, what are we suppose to do with the mantra?” asked Amara.

“This mantra is used to enlightened the mind, but since the ritual that are suppose to go along with it has been lost to many, the true purposed of the mantra has also been lost,” Amos looked around, searching for something.

“What are you-“ She wasn’t able to finish her question when Amos let out a shout of triumph, finding a spoon with scripture on it, and two sets of Mala beads.

He grabbed onto a water pot laying on the ground, pouring in some water from the creak. “Look for some Lotus pedals.”

Amara looked around, but didn’t get the chance to find one before Silas waltzed over with a white lotus in hand. He hadn’t said anything since Amos had showed up and just watched them work with detatched eyes, making Amara wonder if he didn’t like Amos.

“What are we suppose to do with those?” asked Amara, curiously peering over Amos shoulder as he picked the pedals of the lotus and put them in the water pot.

“We will need to create oil,” Amos said, looking around. It took hours before they had collected olives, watching as Amos grinded and pressed them with the old tools found littered in the cave. He had put up a fire and boiled the water in the pot, to then mix the oil with the scented Lotus pedals.

He then started to create a bonfire, under Amara’s curious watch. “This look like a ritual.”

“It is. It’s a sacrifice to Brahma allowing someone to communicate with him and ask him questions.”

“Will it work?” Amara asked curiously.

“Probably,” Amos muttered, his eyes turning to the sculpture. “But Brahma is a Anterion. Whether he answers or not, or for that matter, if the person who calls will be able to receive his answer is another matter.”

“Not being able to receive is answer? What would happen to a person who can’t receive the answer.”

“They would go mad, their soul destroyed.”

“Then who will-“

“I will do it,” Amos said, not leaving it up to discussion.

“But-“

“I won’t put you in harms way. How will I explain that to your mother.”

“But I’m the reincarnation of a deva!” Amara was finally able to sputter out, Amos froze in his tracks. Looking up from his whisking of the oil.

“What?”

“According to Prahlada, I’m the reincarnation of a deva. That’s why he summoned me to help.”

“But you-“

“Aren’t that strong, no, but if this is a mental aspect then I should as a reincarnation of god have a higher one to communicate with a anterion. “

Amos bit his lips, before meeting her eyes.” Yes but there is another problem.”

“What?”

“The last part of the ritual demands two people chanting the mantra with the mala beads in their hands while the one who intend to commincate with Braham standing in the middle, pouring the oil into a sacrificial fire.”

“Then you and Silas can-“

“No, I was considering how to handle it, but the rituals wants one from each side. One deva and one asura, or at least a worshipper or blood relation of one of each.”

“Neither of us are worshippers of the asura or the devas.”

“Hence the problem, I have been pondering how to solve it but if you are the reincarnation of a deva then that should count as one side,” Amos’s eyes turned to Silas. “Then we just need the asura.”

“But he isn’t a worshipper of the asura.”

“No, but he is protected by one. Isn’t that what you said? I hope that is close enough for this to work.”

Silas just listened to them, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowing by each sentence. “What would happen if it didn’t work?”

“You would die.” A dark voice echoed in the cave, sending shivers down Amara’s spine. She turned around to the voice she recognized from the visions Prahlada had shown her, and watched as Andhaka exited the shadows. Twice as tall as a human male, his body built like a warrior and skin the color of obsidian.

His dark eyes, blind since birth, didn’t move but the third eye in his forehead peered at them before finally stopping at Silas.