Legends tell of a time long ago—8,000 solar cycles to be precise—of a mysterious man. This man of unknown origin sat beneath a great tree, motionless for many days. None knew when he arrived but there he remained, day in and day out. Many came to witness this phenomenon and no movement was observed. So they remained to see how long it would take… for surely he would wake for sustenance. They wondered and stood in awe at his impossibility.
Days became weeks, the weeks melted into months. When those many months formed years and still the man did not move, he was named Ahnma, ‘the infinite one.’ Some became devout in their observation of him. His presence and aura remained mysterious, and yet demonstrated transcendent power, an infinite connection to the universe. They grew to revere him as a god.
And yet, not all remained to observe Ahnma. Legend tells there were only three who remained steadfast. But there was indeed a mysterious fourth disciple. They were all rewarded—the three of legend and the one who was unknown to most—when the infinite one finally opened his eyes and beheld them sitting before him.
Ahnma held great knowledge and he bestowed upon his followers the complexities of yogic science, giving them the skills of delving into the inner mind, body, and spirit. Having proven their dedication once by awaiting their god’s awakening, they endeavored once more to prove themselves.
Through devotion and painstaking surrender to their walking god and his teachings, three of the disciples emerged from their training as sages, gifting humanity with their wisdom across the lands and through the ages. These three perhaps are remembered because it is easier to see the benefits of those enlightened in a benevolent manner.
The fourth and forgotten disciple—Agastra, a homeless child, adopted and trained by Lord Ahnma alongside the three—had another fate. Ahnma sensed a simmering darkness hidden below Agastra’s surface. The infinite one knew the boy’s darkness had the potential to sew seeds of great chaos. And so Ahnma, with a plan and purpose for Agastra, trained him alongside the three who would become sages. But Agastra was also trained in darker, deadlier practices.
When the boy achieved both yogic mastery and a deep knowledge of his dark power, Lord Ahnma bestowed on him a new name. The name Kalinanda marked Agastra as a death yogi.
For many ages after, there was peace.
Kalinanda, once the boy Agastra, cared not for indulgences, nor conversation. Instead he desired to reside in a state of deep meditation as often as possible. So he built for himself a small temple inside a Himalayan mountain cave. There he would meditate in solitude for many years, sometimes achieving that state for centuries.
Time was of no consequence to this yogic supreme master. His mastery over life processes made endless regeneration a thing of ease. He prolonged his life to experience existence in the form and vibration of his meditative state.
Although he was a being of bliss, Kalinanda loathed to be disturbed from his practices. Few came to disturb him but those so unwise, so unfortunate to do so payed a heavy price.
Once, a traveler, eager to lay eyes on Kalinanda, climbed the mountain. Though weary from his journey, the traveler’s excitement grew when he saw the temple. As he drew near to the meditating master, Kalinanda opened his eyes and with great and terrible speed plucked the traveler’s eye from its socket. Screaming, the traveler ran from Kalinanda.
Occasionally Kalinanda would journey from his temple to meditate in other sublime locations. When he reached the age of 5,000 solar cycles, Kalinanda traveled from his remote mountain home in search of just such a place. Finally, he found a magnificent waterfall which crashed into a rushing river. The vibrations of the surging waters satisfied him and his meditations reached new heights in this place. The powerful vibrations caused him to levitate where he sat and he remained there to meditate for a time.
After being there for some time, Kalinanda is disturbed yet again. Pulled from his transcendent state, he opens his heavy-lidded eyes to see a hideous creature before him. Though much like a human it is twisted somehow… fanged, horned, and revolting to behold. The creature names himself as Malgar the demon, and proceeds to make vulgar taunts at Kalinanda, mocking him and his practice.
Kalinanda, with the barest effort, rips Malgar’s tongue from his fanged mouth. Incensed, the demon lunges to attack, enraging Kalinanda. But the death yogi—in his meditative position, legs crossed and even still, levitating—tears Malgar’s hideous head off, severing it from his grotesque body.
No sooner does the demon’s body crash to the ground, it’s blood staining the green earth and river stones below Kalinanda, when a great blue being rises from the river. And Kalinanda, the death yogi, recognizes him as Poseidon, Lord of the Oceans. The god, though a great many eons older than Kalinanda, bows in respect to him. He chose to reveal himself to Kalinanda, having witnessed not only the exchange with the demon but also the yogi’s transcendent and enlightened nature.
Poseidon humbles himself and acknowledges Kalinanda’s abilities—which bely a powerful and ferociously deadly nature—and tells him of a way he can put those skills to use. The god speaks of “The Ritual,” and the time being ripe to rid the planet of demonic creatures once again. He then requests Kalinanda’s aid. The death yogi will become a deadly priest, scouring the planet of all things diabolical.
Kalinanda knows his own nature, and is reluctant to agree to Poseidon’s proposition. And yet he levitates upon the banks of the river, demonic blood dripping from Malgar’s severed head, still gripped in his fist. If he agrees to this, it could be a great benefit to humanity. But, if he opens the door to his deepest, darkest self, what kind of carnage will he awaken and unleash…