He was sitting online. just browsing through some random pages. suddenly, out of the effin blue, he found a pic. a profile pic. this girl was beautiful. not really beautiful. but cute. not really cute. but she had this appeal to her that made his eyes fall out and glue themselves to the screen. there was something abt her that he couldnt resist. a je na sais quoa. he poked her almost immediately, waiting for a response that took ages to come. what would you say, if it didnt. would the story go on? of course it would. something as big as this legendarium wouldnt be held back by an innocent poke. but the fact is, it did. the poke returned and what would later lead to late-night chats and virtual cuddles, now lead to two strangers acknowledgin each other for the first time as people. they knew that they existed for each other. not like the sole purpose of their existence was the other but just the realisation that the other lived. Yes, The One had found true love.

Prologue 3

The One. what a man to be. what stature. what brilliance. what faith. what helplessnees. no? well its true. Being the One is not as easy as it sounds. there's responsiblities to be fulfilled. people, loads of them, to be taken care of. and the most important thing? you can have no life of your own. u think of buying a guitar, but you cant cause its just so trivial. u think of having a girlfriend, but you're worried to death what the people might say. so thats how it is. Being the One is like being something of a god. only you can know it. others can just have faith.
The One had a normal life before he actually became the One. he used to hang out with friends, sip tea and coffee, smoke cigarettes in a whiffy, use vaseline, or maybe not- that new cocoa vaseline had a weird smell. The One had become the One overnight. it had come to him as an epiphany. a responsibility to carry the world on his shoulders and deliver it from the chains of evil to the gates of heaven. and of course there lay the disaster of disasters in between. Doomsday was near. and Mankind had to be prepared.

Prologue 2

We took you up from a garbage can , they often said. And though it was but a joke, he used to be offended by it. From that point till today, He still couldn’t help wondering if he was any special. Though his family had given him all that man could look for, love, respect, freedom, he still sat atop balconies and wondered, Am I special? And the answers that came were outright. A big NO stamped across the face of fate. And he was often left in tears.
Enough retrospection, he said. They were lying low in an enemy encampment. It was dark and dangerous. This facility had never been broken through. But today, it would be. There was no other choice. The person they’d held prisoner was important to Ahmed, and had to be found and released and brought to a safe place before dusk. A dusk that was comin closer by the minute. Something had to be done soon. The two men crouched from below the fencing and entered what looked like a fortress. This is impossible, said Pasha, Ahmed’s comrade. We will never be able to infiltrate something this guarded. Patting his friend’s back Ahmed said, trust in Him. Everything will be alright. And as he said this, a package came up from behind, as had been agreed upon. It was yellow-coloured, a small box, containing some equipment. Pasha was scrambling through it contents when held his hand out towards Ahmed and said, this one’s for you. And as he opened the package, he saw her pic. It always delighted him, but tonight it made him cry. If God, in all his mercy, would still want Ahmed to lose his life, he’d gladly give it away. But the only thing, the only person he will always miss, even after death, would be the lady in the pic. After they had torn the yellow package to this last bit, finding guns and other weaponry, they were all set for the attack. The time had come.

Prologue 1

You should pay your allegiance to the One, he had said. But deep down in these dark sewers, where rats commingled with more rats spurting everywhere, Omar was astonished about what he’d discovered, what he’d do?
Omar’s life was no less than a windstorm either. Lazy cufflinks and asocial fasteners, were still pretty tight around his arms and legs, but most of all, though he was the only person who had actually had the courage to consider it, most of all he heart was beating at a snail’s pace. That is after it had been pumping blood like a generator. And he felt like there’s was this rock on his chest that had been kept in place for a long long time. The problem wasn’t that it had been removed now. The problem was that it had left scars. Painful scars. One running right across his chest, diagonally. No there weren’t any sharp tools around, if you’re wondering, this was a rock-scar. A brazen one. Anyways, Something needed to be done. His original allegiance lay with his own clan, the O6645. These were people of the Household. Not the topmost. But still. A Syed was a a Syed, no matter what. He wouldn’t preferably marry outside his clan. He couldn’t be given charity too. Many myths and moots surrounded this 1400 year old institution of the Household. Leave everything aside. There was but one truth. You couldn’t go on your word, once you had been inducted. And that happened at birth. So, in a cynical way, your fate was sealed at birth. Unless of course you tried to take matters into your own hand. That you were brave enough to let go of things you no longer needed. A wallet and a rolex watch here. His pants too. And with only the torchlight guiding his way, he returned from the so called sewage-inspection-gone-awry. Not the point here. The One was waiting.

Prologue: The First moments of Rebirth

It felt like an era had passed. From the time it had started, until the time it came to a balanced end, it felt like an era had passed. he couldn’t thank God enough. Not enough. Not even enough. And though the repeated feeling of a hoax kept bothering him, as it still does, he felt he didn’t deserve it. Or maybe he did. May he did deserve to rot, not rot, wither painfully, in a 2 year blackhole of a hellhole. It had gone so alarmingly slow. And yet now, it felt like it wasn’t that much. Whatever be the feeling linked to it, the feeling now was of triumph. Of a holy triumph. Of a triumph that makes you believe in destiny. That the world was created by a wise creator. Not haphaestus. Haphaestus was lame. This creator was so powerful, we couldn’t bring words to describe Him. Not because we don’t have words. But because we don’t understand the special kind of words that describe him. Elementary flaw don’t you think? Thats how life is. Or at least half of it. The other half is balanced by an equation, only He can comprehend. And He in all his wisdom, does comprehend it.