The whispering River of South Dakota. I the boy who heard Rivers breathe. In the ancient land of aryavarta when forests still whispered, the hymns of The Vedas and sunlight fell on earth, like warm honey, there lived a young boy named arunodaya he was barely 12. Curious as fire gentle as a lotus petal and blessed or burdened with an unusual gift. He could hear the breath of rivers, not the splashing, not the gurgling, not the rush of water against rocks, heard something deeper something alive, when he sat by flowing water, he sensed a pulse, a presence. A whispering that only he could understand his father. Thought it was a child's imagination. His mother feared. It was a Divine sign and both were right. Arunodaya lived in South Dakota, a humble Village, cradled between seven hills and a single ancient river, the critical knotty named after the celestial mothers. The criticas villagers believed the river was older than the mountains, around it older even than the first word ever spoken by mankind. They treated it as a deity offering flowers. Every Dawn Lighting lamps at dusk, but for arunodaya the river was not a deity. It was a voice soft mysterious Eternal, and that voice call to him. I a night of silver rain, one evening long. After the Crimson dipped behind the hills, a strange event occurred, the sky filled with clouds, the color of molten, silver and soft droplets began to fall, not quite water, not quite missed. Silver rain The Village Elders. Whispered it fell only once in a lifetime and only when the river wished to reveal something, arunodaya ran outside face turned upward, letting the cool silver droplets gather on his palms. They shimmered like tiny moons before dissolving into his skin and suddenly he heard it a voice. Clear as a temple Bell, aruno de His breath caught. Come to me. The voice came not from the sky but from the river calling him by name. Heart pounding, he walked toward the riverbank, the critical knotty seemed to Glow faintly under the silver, Reign, its waves movement with a rhythm. Like breathing, As he touched the water, it warmed under his fingers and then he saw her a shape made of flowing water. A woman formed entirely of ripples eyes shining like liquid Stars the River Spirit aruno die. A fell to his knees. Trembling Mother the word slipped out. Unbidden she smiled a smile that felt like early Dawn. Child of Earth listener of waters rise. He stood, though, his legs shook, why have you called me? He whispered the river woman's expression. Dimmed, like, clouds passing over moonlight A shadow is spreading across the ancient lands. Something lost must be found again and only one who hears. The rivers breath can follow its path. Aruno Dias, heart raced. What must I do? She extended a hand of shimmering water. You must find the SOP to grantha the seven books of the first story. Arunodaya frowned. He had never heard of such books. The first story, he echoed the water woman. Nodded long before, man, learned to speak long before the epics before even The Vedas the universe wrote its first story, a song of creation seven sacred truths hidden in seven books without them the balance of the world. Trembles, his voice cracked. But why me? Because you can hear us. She whispered come the Journey Begins at dawn. And with that she dissolved into the river. Aruno die. A stood. Frozen soaked in silver. Rain knowing life would never be the same. Hi, the Journey Begins when Dawn broke the village was already buzzing. The silver rain had been seen by all people lit lamps chanted prayers and prepared for what they believed, was a divine blessing, arunodaya Slipped Away quietly, he carried nothing but a small cloth bag of food, a copper water pot, a string of prayer, beads and a courage. He was not sure. He truly possessed the River. Guiding voice whispered Softly As He Walked along its Bank hours, passed the son, climbed and began to descend by late after Noonan reached a part of the river, he had never seen a place where the water split into seven thin streams. The river spoke. Again these are the seven paths, you must take the middle one. He stepped into the shallow stream as soon as he did the surroundings shifted the are thickened. The sky darkened, a smoky Mist Rose from the water and then shapes appeared ancient shapes a massive Stone Arch. Covered in symbols. Unlike anything he'd ever seen a glowing. Doorway of swirling blue light, stood behind it. Arunodaya gasped. The river whispered the first realm the realm of memory He stepped into the light. Four, the realm of memory. It was like, stepping into a dream. He found himself standing on a vast plane filled with floating objects, Scrolls, clay tablets carved Stones old leaves marked with forgotten scripts, ancient words, drifted through the air, like birds. Everywhere. He looked memories glowed, softly, suspended in time. A gentle voice. Spoke to find the first book. You must answer the question of memory. A glowing figure formed not human, not Divine. Something in between a guardian made of shimmering thought. Ask me, arunodaya whispered, the Guardians voice flowed like wind over old parchment. What is the oldest memory? Arunodaya frowned, is it the first words spoken? The first fire lit, the first tier, the first laugh, then he thought of something deeper he touched his heart. Our oldest memory is belonging. He said softly belonging to the Earth, to the sky to the river before. Stories before speech we belonged the Guardians eyes glowed. You understand a golden book drifted toward him Pages shimmering like sunlight on water. The first book. Of the first story. As his fingers closed around it, the plane dissolved and light, swept him away. 5, the realm of Echoes. Arunodaya appeared in a cavern glowing with blue. Crystals sounds bounced, everywhere footsteps, Whispers chance Roars, some ancient, some new all blending like music. Another guardian of appeared. The second book is hidden in an echo that never fades. What Echo? Never Fades. He wondered, he sat listening the echo of mountains, cracking, the echo of ocean, wave's the echo of chanting priests Then he heard it faint pure Eternal a heartbeat. He whispered life the heartbeat. It echoes in every being the glowed warmly. A sapphire blue book, floated.

The whispering River of South Dakota. I the boy who heard Rivers breathe. In the ancient land of aryavarta when forests still whispered, the hymns of The Vedas and sunlight fell on earth, like warm honey, there lived a young boy named arunodaya he was barely 12. Curious as fire gentle as a lotus petal and blessed or burdened with an unusual gift. He could hear the breath of rivers, not the splashing, not the gurgling, not the rush of water against rocks, heard something deeper something alive, when he sat by flowing water, he sensed a pulse, a presence. A whispering that only he could understand his father. Thought it was a child's imagination. His mother feared. It was a Divine sign and both were right. Arunodaya lived in South Dakota, a humble Village, cradled between seven hills and a single ancient river, the critical knotty named after the celestial mothers. The criticas villagers believed the river was older than the mountains, around it older even than the first word ever spoken by mankind. They treated it as a deity offering flowers. Every Dawn Lighting lamps at dusk, but for arunodaya the river was not a deity. It was a voice soft mysterious Eternal, and that voice call to him. I a night of silver rain, one evening long. After the Crimson dipped behind the hills, a strange event occurred, the sky filled with clouds, the color of molten, silver and soft droplets began to fall, not quite water, not quite missed. Silver rain The Village Elders. Whispered it fell only once in a lifetime and only when the river wished to reveal something, arunodaya ran outside face turned upward, letting the cool silver droplets gather on his palms. They shimmered like tiny moons before dissolving into his skin and suddenly he heard it a voice. Clear as a temple Bell, aruno de His breath caught. Come to me. The voice came not from the sky but from the river calling him by name. Heart pounding, he walked toward the riverbank, the critical knotty seemed to Glow faintly under the silver, Reign, its waves movement with a rhythm. Like breathing, As he touched the water, it warmed under his fingers and then he saw her a shape made of flowing water. A woman formed entirely of ripples eyes shining like liquid Stars the River Spirit aruno die. A fell to his knees. Trembling Mother the word slipped out. Unbidden she smiled a smile that felt like early Dawn. Child of Earth listener of waters rise. He stood, though, his legs shook, why have you called me? He whispered the river woman's expression. Dimmed, like, clouds passing over moonlight A shadow is spreading across the ancient lands. Something lost must be found again and only one who hears. The rivers breath can follow its path. Aruno Dias, heart raced. What must I do? She extended a hand of shimmering water. You must find the SOP to grantha the seven books of the first story. Arunodaya frowned. He had never heard of such books. The first story, he echoed the water woman. Nodded long before, man, learned to speak long before the epics before even The Vedas the universe wrote its first story, a song of creation seven sacred truths hidden in seven books without them the balance of the world. Trembles, his voice cracked. But why me? Because you can hear us. She whispered come the Journey Begins at dawn. And with that she dissolved into the river. Aruno die. A stood. Frozen soaked in silver. Rain knowing life would never be the same. Hi, the Journey Begins when Dawn broke the village was already buzzing. The silver rain had been seen by all people lit lamps chanted prayers and prepared for what they believed, was a divine blessing, arunodaya Slipped Away quietly, he carried nothing but a small cloth bag of food, a copper water pot, a string of prayer, beads and a courage. He was not sure. He truly possessed the River. Guiding voice whispered Softly As He Walked along its Bank hours, passed the son, climbed and began to descend by late after Noonan reached a part of the river, he had never seen a place where the water split into seven thin streams. The river spoke. Again these are the seven paths, you must take the middle one. He stepped into the shallow stream as soon as he did the surroundings shifted the are thickened. The sky darkened, a smoky Mist Rose from the water and then shapes appeared ancient shapes a massive Stone Arch. Covered in symbols. Unlike anything he'd ever seen a glowing. Doorway of swirling blue light, stood behind it. Arunodaya gasped. The river whispered the first realm the realm of memory He stepped into the light. Four, the realm of memory. It was like, stepping into a dream. He found himself standing on a vast plane filled with floating objects, Scrolls, clay tablets carved Stones old leaves marked with forgotten scripts, ancient words, drifted through the air, like birds. Everywhere. He looked memories glowed, softly, suspended in time. A gentle voice. Spoke to find the first book. You must answer the question of memory. A glowing figure formed not human, not Divine. Something in between a guardian made of shimmering thought. Ask me, arunodaya whispered, the Guardians voice flowed like wind over old parchment. What is the oldest memory? Arunodaya frowned, is it the first words spoken? The first fire lit, the first tier, the first laugh, then he thought of something deeper he touched his heart. Our oldest memory is belonging. He said softly belonging to the Earth, to the sky to the river before. Stories before speech we belonged the Guardians eyes glowed. You understand a golden book drifted toward him Pages shimmering like sunlight on water. The first book. Of the first story. As his fingers closed around it, the plane dissolved and light, swept him away. 5, the realm of Echoes. Arunodaya appeared in a cavern glowing with blue. Crystals sounds bounced, everywhere footsteps, Whispers chance Roars, some ancient, some new all blending like music. Another guardian of appeared. The second book is hidden in an echo that never fades. What Echo? Never Fades. He wondered, he sat listening the echo of mountains, cracking, the echo of ocean, wave's the echo of chanting priests Then he heard it faint pure Eternal a heartbeat. He whispered life the heartbeat. It echoes in every being the glowed warmly. A sapphire blue book, floated.