"We have cultivated the Maya tree," the ancients said. "Now it thinks for us, dreams for us. We have domesticated it, tamed it to do our bidding." I always suspected it was the other way around. - Hiranyagarbha The Divya Trials have been announced. Billions will compete. One will ascend to godhood. In every future predicted by Maya's vast network, the outcome is certain: the garuda scion Tarkash will win. The Divyas cannot allow this. Kshar has rehearsed the assassination a hundred times in Maya's simulations. In seventeen minutes, a single fruit will begin a cascade that ends in a riot. The plan is perfect. Every angle mapped. Every move predicted. Every breath choreographed. Except one. Yachay, a young manushya, harbors a dangerous secret. He has never seen Maya. And Maya hasn't seen him either.