They dressed in gold.
They spoke in mantras.
They sat in a perfect circle high above the clouds in a floating fortress called Nirvata.
And they called themselves the Council of Light.
They were not gods.
But they had been worshipped so long, they forgot the difference.
Aarav arrived with no army.
Just breath.
The guards blocked him.
He stepped around them like wind through tall grass.
Inside, the Council stared. Twelve figures. Twelve voices always in agreement.
Until now.
One rose.
"You come uninvited."
Aarav stood tall. "I didn't come to ask. I came to end pretending."
Another laughed. "You think breath is greater than decree?"
He raised his hand. Chanted a word that once made cities fall.
Aarav didn't flinch.
He exhaled.
And the light in the chamber dimmed—not from power, but from truth.
The spell fell flat.
The air thickened with presence.
Then, he spoke softly.
"Your strength comes from fear disguised as order.Your unity is silence born from suppression.You do not lead. You drown motion."
And with that, one Council seat cracked.
A woman in white stood up.
Removed her veil.
"I remember now. I wasn't made to rule. I was made to witness."
She left.
The others watched her go—and felt the first sting of irrelevance.
Aarav turned without another word.
He had not destroyed the Council.
He had reminded them.