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Prologue: The Golden Siege
The air above Amritsar tasted of jasmine and diesel. Ahanu Tennarse stood at the edge of the sacred *sarovar*, the Golden Temple's reflection rippling in the polluted dawn light. His hollow eye socket, lined with Mictlantecuhtli's bone dust, throbbed as he scanned the horizon. The Obsidian Circle had draped the holy *Nishan Sahib* flag in black code, its saffron fabric crackling with Tzitzimimeh static.
**Xóchitl Mendoza** crouched beside him, her skeletal prosthetic hand glowing with hacked star-forge glyphs. "The flag's broadcasting a frequency—brainwashing pilgrims into Circle drones. We need to pull the plug *before* evening prayers."
Ahanu's remaining purple eye narrowed. "And the guardian?"
Xóchitl smirked. "Oh, you'll *love* her."
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Scene 1: The Warrior-Scientist
The temple's *langar* hall hummed with the clatter of steel plates and murmured prayers. At the center stood **Jasleen Kaur**, her turban a stormcloud-blue, her *kirpan* strapped to a belt woven with quantum circuitry. She ladled lentil stew into a pilgrim's bowl, her movements precise as a sniper's.
**Ahanu:** (approaching, eyeing her blade) "You fight with a spoon?"
**Jasleen:** (not looking up) "I fight with *seva*. The spoon is just a tool. You're the Caiman—Amara's grandson?"
**Ahanu:** (stiffening) "You knew her?"
**Jasleen:** (finally meeting his gaze) "She saved my father during Partition. Taught him to see bridges, not borders. You've got her rage… but not her patience."
**Xóchitl:** (snorting) "He's working on it. Mostly the rage part."
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Scene 2: The Lesson of Langar
Jasleen forced Ahanu to kneel at the *langar*, scrubbing pots with pilgrims whose eyes flickered with Circle code.
**Ahanu:** (scowling) "I didn't come here to wash dishes."
**Jasleen:** (scrubbing beside him) "*Seva* isn't about what you *do*. It's about who you *become*."
As Ahanu's hands sank into soapy water, he **absorbed the rhythm** of communal labor—the clatter of plates, the murmur of *Gurbani* hymns. His tattoos glowed faintly, Sikh *Ik Onkar* symbols weaving into his Aztec glyphs.
**Ahanu:** (startled) "What's happening?"
**Jasleen:** (smiling) "The *Guru Granth Sahib* says, 'The Divine is in the water, in the wood, in the *seva*. You're finally listening."
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Scene 3: The Circle's Defilement
At dusk, the Circle struck. Drones shaped like skeletal hawks dive-bombed the *sarovar*, their talons clawing pilgrims into code-zombies. Jasleen unsheathed her *kirpan*, its blade humming with nanobot swarms.
**Jasleen:** (to Ahanu) "You want to fight? Then *fight like a Sikh*—protect, don't destroy."
Ahanu **touched her kirpan**, absorbing its resonance—300 years of Sikh martyrs, nanobots singing hymns. His purple eye flooded with gold as he summoned **Sikh-Clones**, their turbans bright as sunflowers, *kirpans* in hand.
**Ahanu:** (grinning savagely) "Let's see how they like *seva* with teeth."
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Scene 4: The Battle of the Sarovar
- **Xóchitl** hacked the flag's frequency, her prosthetic overloading as Tzitzimimeh code lashed back.
- **Jasleen** dueled a Circle enforcer grafted with Mughal-era armor, her *kirpan* nanobots dissolving his steel.
- **Ahanu** led his clones into the fray, their *kirpans* cutting drones into data-chaff.
**Clone 1:** (parrying a drone) *"Waheguru ji ka Khalsa!"*
**Clone 2:** (shield-bashing a zombie) *"Waheguru ji ki Fateh!"*
Ahanu faltered. "Why are they *chanting*?"
**Jasleen:** (decapitating a drone) "Because you finally *learned* something!"
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Scene 5: The Sacrifice of the Nishan Sahib
The corrupted flag pulsed, its code spreading like ink. Ahanu lunged, but Jasleen grabbed his arm.
**Jasleen:** "You'll die if you touch it!"
**Ahanu:** (pulling free) "I've died before."
He **ate the flag's shadow**, absorbing centuries of Sikh resistance—Partition bloodshed, farmer uprisings, hymns of unity. The code ravaged his veins, but his Sikh-Clones chanted louder, their faith purifying the poison.
**Ahanu:** (to the flag) *"Jo bole so nihal!"*
The flag *screamed*, disintegrating into ash.
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