The scent of sandalwood and old paper filled the dimly lit library. Dust floated in the air as Jyotika ran her fingers over the spine of an ancient book.

Something about it called to her.

Its cover was deep blue, speckled with golden flecks, like a night sky full of stars. The title had faded over time, barely visible.

“The Lost City of Dwarka.”

Her heart beat faster.

She had always been drawn to stories of Krishna and the city that had sunk beneath the sea. But this—this felt different.

She turned the pages carefully.

Then—

Something slipped out.

A parchment.

It was old and yellowed, yet strangely untouched by time. The ink glowed softly, as if the words had been etched in light.

She held her breath as she read:

“To the one who seeks…

You have forgotten, but you must remember.

You have walked this path for lifetimes, yet your journey is not over.

Come to the place where time and ocean meet, where the past still breathes beneath the waves.

Come to Dwarka.

Come… to me.”

A strange warmth spread through her chest.

She did not know why, but her heart ached.

Somehow, she knew—this message was meant for her.

*The Call of the Ocean*

The Arabian Sea stretched before her, dark and endless under the silver moon. The wind carried whispers—soft, ancient, familiar.

Jyotika held the parchment close as she stood on the shores of Dwarka.

Something stirred inside her.

Was it the ruins beneath the waves? The stories of Krishna’s lost city?

Or something more?

The words on the parchment burned in her mind.

“Come to the place where time and ocean meet…”

She took a step forward.

The moment her foot touched the water—

The sea split open.

She gasped.

A golden path stretched into the ocean’s depths. Mist swirled ahead, revealing a city.

Not ruins.

Not a memory.

But a living city.

And in its heart, bathed in moonlight, stood him.

The moment she saw him… everything changed.

*Face to Face with Eternity*

He stood at the temple gates, glowing in the night.

Dark-skinned, radiant, with a peacock feather in his crown. His eyes—deep, knowing—held the weight of eternity.

Jyotika’s breath faltered.

The world blurred.

Suddenly—

She was no longer in Dwarka.

She was somewhere else.

Somewhere that had always been home.

*The Return of Radha*

Visions poured into her like a river breaking free—

Sunlit meadows, golden and endless.

The laughter of a boy with a flute, stealing flowers, stealing hearts.

Love, so deep, so pure, that even the universe could not contain it.

Her knees buckled.

She had not always been Jyotika.

She had not been someone forgotten.

She had been—

Radha.

And in that moment, her entire being changed.

Her thoughts no longer belonged to a lost girl searching for answers. Her heart no longer ached for Krishna alone.

She had loved him before time itself, had existed beyond birth and death. But she had also been Lakshmi, the mother of all, the one whose love held the universe together.

She had walked this earth before.

She had been Sita, the queen of sacrifice, who walked through fire.

She had been Rukmini, the princess who chose Krishna over a kingdom.

She had been Radha, love itself, devotion itself, the one who had never needed a crown because she had already ruled his heart.

And now—she had returned.

A wave of immense love rose within her—not just for Krishna, but for the world.

For its people.

Her children.

The humans who had lost their way in Kaliyug.

But not all of them.

Among the chaos and fading devotion, there were souls still shining bright.

There were hearts that still wept for Krishna in the silence of the night.

Hands that folded in prayer, asking for nothing in return.

Voices that sang his name, feet that still danced in his love.

Not all was lost.

And that—that was why she had come back.

To remind them.

To awaken the ones who still believed.

To be the river that would fill the ocean of devotion before it dried forever.

Her heart no longer felt heavy with confusion.

It overflowed—with love, with strength, with the power of a mother who would never leave her children.

She looked at Krishna, tears in her eyes.

He had always been waiting.

And she—she had found him once more.

But why?

The scriptures were clear—Lakshmi was meant to return at the end of Kaliyug, to stand beside Lord Kalki.

Then why had she come back now?

Krishna smiled.

Soft. Knowing. Timeless.

“You think the scriptures are wrong, my love?” His voice was like a song, threading through the universe.

She swallowed. “They say I was meant to return at the end of Kaliyug.”

He stepped closer, and the very air shivered.

“You are Lakshmi,” he said. “You have walked this earth as Sita, the queen of sacrifice. As Rukmini, the goddess of devotion. As Radha, the very soul of love itself.”

His fingers brushed hers, and all her past lives surged through her veins.

“But why am I here now?” she whispered.

The ocean roared around them, as if waiting.

Krishna’s gaze softened.

“Because the world is losing its faith, Radha.”

A shiver ran through her.

“Kaliyug has not ended,” he said, “but dharma is crumbling. The ocean of devotion is drying. And you… you are the river that must fill it once more.”

Her breath steadied.

The trembling in her hands stopped.

She was not lost.

She was not waiting.

She was home.

And she was ready.

*The Hand That Held Hers*

As she turned to leave, she felt it.

A familiar warmth against her fingers.

She stopped.

Someone was holding her hand.

Slowly, she turned—and her heart skipped a beat.

A boy.

Dark-skinned, with curly hair and a glow that was not of this world. His eyes sparkled with mischief and wisdom beyond years.

He looked her age, yet his presence filled the universe.

She knew him.

Her heart pounded.

Somewhere deep inside, she had always known him.

He smiled, the very stars seeming to dance in his eyes.

“You are not alone, Radha.”

No.

They had only become the air, the rivers, the songs, the very heartbeat of devotion itself.

But now, they were here once more—not as echoes, not as mere whispers in the wind, but as a promise fulfilled, as destiny walking once more among mortals.