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हम से पूछो कि मोहब्बत के असर कैसे हैं,

दिल में ख़ुशबू की तरह ख़्वाब उतरते कैसे हैं,

वो जो इक चांद सा मुखड़ा नज़र आता है मुझे,

लोग कहते हैं कि दुनिया में सितारे कैसे हैं।

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"Maharaj, aap kuch vichlit lag rahe hain, sab kushal to hai na?" Sharad's voice was low but filled with concern as he observed Hridayveer's unusually quiet demeanor. Ever since they returned from the dense forest surrounding Ratanpur, Hridayveer hadn’t spoken much. They were to rest at the palace tonight before heading back to home the next morning, to the grand Aryavart Palace nestled in the heart of Malava.

(Your Majesty, you seem disturbed. Is everything alright?)

"Vichlit to hum hain, Sharad," Hridayveer said, his voice heavy as he stared at the moonlit sky, taking a deep sip from his golden goblet filled with somras. "Veerendra humare viruddh jayenga, aisa humne kabhi socha nahi tha," he confessed, his words laced with both disbelief and sorrow. They were sitting in the royal garden, the scent of jasmine in the air, but even nature's beauty couldn’t ease the storm brewing in Hridayveer's mind.

(I am indeed disturbed, Sharad. Veerendra would go against me—I never thought that was possible.)

In his 28 years of life, Hridayveer had trusted very few people. His stepbrother, Veerendra Aryavart, was one of them. There was no discrimination in Hridayveer's heart between his blood brother, Yugraj, and Veerendra. Both were raised as princes of Aryavart, bonded not just by royal blood but by shared struggles and battles. But now, the very brother who had once fought alongside him had turned against him.

Their father, Maharaj Vikramaditya Aryavart, had two queens—Ahilya Devi, Hridayveer's mother, and Gautami Devi, Veerendra's mother. Although Vikramaditya had many concubines, only these two queens bore him sons. The Aryavart dynasty had once stood proud and united, but everything shattered after the great war of Suratgarh. Vikramaditya was killed in the battlefield, leaving behind a fractured kingdom. His trusted younger brother, Suryabhan, took advantage of the chaos.

With deceit in his heart and betrayal in his veins, Suryabhan seized the throne. He imprisoned Gautami Devi in the palace and forcibly enlisted Veerendra, who was only ten at the time, into his army. Young Veerendra, was turned into a weapon for Suryabhan. The cruelest blow came when Suryabhan exiled Ahilya Devi along with 11-year-old Hridayveer and 5-year-old Yugraj.

Ahilya Devi had fought tooth and nail for the rights of her sons, but even her fierce spirit couldn’t prevent their banishment. Stripped of royal titles and wealth, the once-proud queen and her sons were thrown into the wilderness. Forced to seek refuge in a remote ashram, they lived in exile, away from the luxuries of the palace. But even in that hardship, Ahilya did not waver. She raised her sons with the principles of dharma, strength, and the teachings of the Vedas.

The ashram was not just a sanctuary but a battlefield of its own. Every day, Hridayveer and Yugraj trained under the guidance of the learned sages. Hridayveer’s young heart harbored a burning desire to reclaim what was rightfully his, but it wasn’t just the throne—it was justice for his family. The teachings at the ashram molded him into a warrior, not just in body, but in spirit.

At the age of 18, with fire in his heart and vengeance in his soul, Hridayveer led an army of loyal soldiers into battle. The odds were against him—Suryabhan's forces were far larger and better equipped. Yet, Hridayveer, fueled by the pain of betrayal and the strength imparted by his mother, fought ferociously. It was Veerendra, who had risen to the position of head guard under Suryabhan, who turned the tide of the war. He betrayed Suryabhan and helped Hridayveer reclaim the throne.

Hridayveer remembered the bloodied fields of Aryavart, the way his sword clashed with Suryabhan’s. He remembered the moment when Suryabhan fell to his knees, his treachery finally catching up with him. The victory wasn’t just Hridayveer's—it was a victory for Veerendra as well. Together, they had rebuilt Aryavart from the ashes of deceit.

But now, Ten years had passed since that day, and the brother who had once fought by his side was rumored to be conspiring against him. Was it the curse of the throne? Was it the insidious poison of power that tore brothers apart? Hridayveer's heart refused to believe that Veerendra, the same Veerendra who had stood with him in the darkest times, could now be planning to betray him.

"Aap humare guptchar ko Pataliputra bhejiye, Sharad," Hridayveer ordered, his voice regaining its authority. "I want to know everything. If Veerendra is plotting against us, I must be prepared. And send him an invitation—tell him I wish to meet. After all, it's been five years since he has seen his bhaisa."

(Send our spy to Pataliputra, Sharad,)

Sharad bowed, his loyalty unquestionable. "Ji, Maharaj," he replied before turning to leave. He knew what the Maharaj was going through—betrayal was a wound deeper than any sword could inflict.

Hridayveer gazed into the distance, the weight of his crown heavier than ever. The royal garden felt suffocating. His thoughts were consumed with questions—questions that only Veerendra could answer. Would his stepbrother stand with him, or had the darkness of ambition consumed him too?

The winds carried the scent of war, and Hridayveer knew that the peace of Aryavart was fragile. The throne had taken everything from him once—his childhood, his family’s happiness, and his sense of security. Now, it threatened to take his brother as well.

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"Divya, ab chalo bhi, humse aur pratiksha nahi hogi," Nayantara said, hurrying Divyanshika along, who smiled gently in response. Nalini, Nayantara’s mother, stood nearby, shaking her head fondly at their playful exchange.

(Divya, hurry up, let's go; I am getting impatient.)

Today was special. They had received an invitation from Rajmata herself to join the royal family for the evening puja, as it was the final and most auspicious day of the Gangaur festival.

Divyanshika, Nayantara, and Nalini were dressed for the occasion. Divyanshika wore a royal blue lehenga with delicate mirror work, paired with traditional kundan jewelry that caught the evening light, making her glow. Nayantara, full of youthful energy, twirled in her deep magenta sari, adorned with silver borders, while her mother, Nalini, wore a serene peach-colored saree, her calm dignity commanding respect.

“Behave like a human, Nayan,” Nalini scolded her daughter lovingly, as Nayantara made a dramatic pout, much to Divyanshika's amusement.

The women were soon gathered at the palace temple for the final Gangaur puja, which was the heart of the celebrations. The temple, adorned with marigold and jasmine flowers, glowed with the light of hundreds of diyas. Rajmata herself led the ceremony, guiding the women as they performed the intricate rituals. The last day of Gangaur was sacred, dedicated to bidding farewell to Goddess Gauri, and seeking her blessings for marital happiness and prosperity.

For Divyanshika, this was the first time she laid eyes on Rajmata. Though her heart brimmed with hatred for everyone in the palace, she couldn’t deny that there was something different about the older woman. Rajmata’s aura was gentle, radiating a motherly kindness that was difficult to ignore. It baffled Divyanshika how such a seemingly warm woman could have given birth to a demon. But appearances could be deceiving, and she knew better than to trust them. Still, despite the storm of emotions churning inside her, Divyanshika maintained a serene smile, her face a picture of harmless beauty, concealing the burning resentment within.

Each woman, including Divyanshika, Nayantara, and Nalini, carried small pots filled with water and flowers, and circled the idol of Gauri seven times. Their prayers were silent but filled with devotion. The final ritual involved the immersion of clay idols of Gauri in the nearby lake, symbolizing the end of the festival. The women watched as the sun began to set, the sky turning golden and casting a serene glow over the palace and the waters where the idols drifted away.

The air was electric with excitement as the final day of the Gangaur festival drew to a close. The palace, bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of flickering diyas, seemed to pulsate with energy. The sky was a canvas of rich purples and pinks, but there was an unmistakable heaviness in the air, a sense of impending change, as though the universe itself awaited something monumental.

Divyanshika stood amidst the throng of dancers, her royal blue lehenga catching the light of the lanterns, the tiny mirrors reflecting the flames, making her appear as if she were on fire. She spun gracefully, her ghungroos chiming in rhythm with her every step, the sound both delicate and haunting. Her face, though a mask of serenity, hid a tempest of emotions—rage, sorrow, and the cold clarity of revenge. Her mind raced with the images of a kingdom crumbling, a king brought to his knees. Each spin of hers was a prayer for destruction, for the annihilation of Hridayveer Aryavart.

On the far end of the courtyard, Hridayveer entered with Sharad by his side. The moment his foot touched the palace grounds, he felt a strange sense of peace. He bent to touch the ground in reverence, his heart swelling with pride for the land that had birthed him. But even as he straightened, something tugged at his senses—an energy that seemed to draw him towards the celebrations. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, searching, but not for his mother, the Rajmata, or even his attendants. His heart beat faster, his instincts on high alert, until his gaze finally settled on her—a woman in a royal blue lehenga, her every move exuding grace and power.

Divyanshika.

He didn’t know her name yet, but her presence was like a force of nature, and it stirred something primal within him. He could not quite make out her face as he watched her dance, her form captivating and her feet appearing to barely touch the floor. Each movement was fluid, almost like water, but beneath it, he sensed a storm brewing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, his curiosity growing with each passing second. Who was she? And why did it feel like she held the power to command the very night?

As the puja came to a close, Hridayveer instructed Sharad to carry on with the night’s duties, all the while keeping his eyes on the woman in blue. He watched her slip away from the festivities, her figure disappearing toward the riverbank. His feet began to move on their own, following her silently, his curiosity now fully piqued.

At the river, Divyanshika knelt by the water's edge, her hands trembling only slightly as she lit the diya. The flames danced against the cool breeze, casting shadows across her face. Her eyes, dark and brooding, were fixed on the small light as it floated away.

"Goddess Gauri, give me the strength to destroy him," she whispered under her breath, her fingers trailing in the water as if sealing the vow. "Hridayveer Aryavart must fall."

Hridayveer stood behind her, observing her as his heartbeat quickened with each passing moment. The air around her seemed to shimmer with an unseen force, as if the night itself responded to her presence. He wanted to see her face, to understand why he felt this pull toward her, why the very air seemed to vibrate in her presence. He took a step forward, just as she began to rise, but the uneven stones beneath her feet gave way, and in a heartbeat, she stumbled.

Hridayveer was faster than he had thought possible. Before she could fall, his hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist, steadying her. For a moment, the world around them vanished. The only sound was the rush of the river and their breathing, shallow and rapid. The touch, though brief, sent a jolt of awareness through both of them. Their eyes met—hers, fiery and unforgiving; his, curious yet drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

But then the world seemed to spin out of control as the force of their stumble pulled them both into the river.

The cold water enveloped them, breaking the spell of their touch. Floating diyas swirled around them, their soft lights illuminating the night in a dreamlike glow. For a moment, everything was still, as if the world itself paused to witness the union of these two souls—one bound by vengeance, the other by fate.

Hridayveer instinctively pulled Divyanshika close as they resurfaced, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep her steady. Her wet hair clung to her face, framing her striking features—the high cheekbones, the delicate curve of her lips, the intensity in her honey-brown eyes that seemed to burn with a hidden fire. She was breathtaking.

His pupils dilated as recognition flashed through his eyes. She was her. He couldn't believe his eyes. A whirlwind of emotions hit him as the realization sank in—she was the one. His heart raced, each beat thudding heavily in his chest. Her presence was magnetic, drawing him in like an unstoppable force. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was the energy around her that left him captivated. It was as if the entire universe revolved around her in that moment, her every feature exuding grace and power. His breath caught as he watched her, his senses heightened. There was something about her that made his pulse quicken, something both familiar and terrifyingly unknown.

Divyanshika, too, noticed him in that instant—the strong, chiseled jawline, the dark stubble framing his face, and those deep, charcoal black eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. Recognition flashed through her like a lightning bolt, and suddenly, her body swirled with rage. Every muscle tensed, her mind consumed with the thought of vengeance. In that moment, all she wanted to do was reach for her dagger, slice the hand that dared to touch her, and then drive the same blade into his heart.

Her fury ignited further as she yanked herself away from his hold, breaking the spell of their brief connection. Her heart pounded in her chest as her mind screamed for blood, but she forced herself to pause. Not yet. This wasn’t the moment. He wouldn't get an easy death.

She shot him a searing glare, her honey-brown siren eyes blazing with loathing before she scrambled out of the water. As she moved, her entire body shivered—not from the cold, but from the sheer disgust and hatred that coursed through her. She fled without turning around, her damp clothes clinging to her, her steps hurried as if she were trying to outrun not only him but also the memories of the past that threatened to overwhelm her at that very moment.

Hridayveer watched her retreating figure, and a low, disbelieving laugh erupted from his chest. He ran a hand through his wet hair, still laughing, though the darkness radiating from him was palpable—an aura so menacing that anyone nearby would have cowered in its presence, unable to fathom its true depth.

Stepping out of the river, his gaze fell upon a glinting object on the ground—her payal, abandoned in her haste. He bent down, picking it up with a smirk, the delicate jewelry resting in his palm as if destiny itself had placed it there.

"The games fate plays..." he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with amusement. "There wasn’t a single day I forgot you. I searched for you everywhere, honey eyes. But to think, I’d find you right here, in my own palace."

His smirk deepened, the storm overhead reflecting the brewing storm within him, as the winds howled and the rain began to fall.

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Divyanshika stepped into the bathing chamber, the coolness of the water beckoning her as she shed her clothes with a swift, frustrated movement. The soft splash of fabric hitting the floor was quickly replaced by the sound of water as she submerged herself in the pool. Her fingers moved furiously over her skin, scrubbing as if trying to erase not just the dirt, but the unsettling feeling left behind by his presence. Every stroke of her hand felt like an attempt to wash away his touch, his gaze—those dark, unreadable eyes that had ignited a storm within her. She hated how deeply he had unsettled her, how memories she had buried so carefully behind thick iron doors threatened to escape, to consume her whole.

These memories, long tucked away in the recesses of her mind, stirred now, pushing against the walls she had built, like a raging storm desperate to break free. But not now. This was not the time to feel weak or vulnerable. She wasn't here to crumble. No, she had come back to face him, to take answers by force if necessary, and to annihilate every single person responsible for her loved ones' suffering.

She wouldn't take him down with deceit; she was a yodha, a warrior through and through. Her path was honor-bound, and she would challenge him openly, face-to-face, with no tricks, no schemes. But there was no doubt in her mind—he would pay. His arrogance and cruelty would be his undoing, and she would be the one to see it through.

Emerging from the bath, Divyanshika dressed in a simple cotton lehenga. The smooth, unadorned fabric brought a sense of calm, a stark contrast to the fire burning within her. She glanced toward the bed and saw Nayantara sprawled lazily, her face lighting up the moment she noticed Divyanshika.

"Divya, why did you come back so early? I was looking for you everywhere!" Nayantara's voice broke through the tension like sunlight. "Maa went to baba and Bhai-sa. I don't know what they're up to in the north wing. We've barely seen them since we arrived. This palace is a labyrinth!" Nayantara's words tumbled out in a rush, as they often did, making Divyanshika smile despite herself.

"My clothes got wet, so I had to return early," Divyanshika replied, laying down beside her.

"How did that happen?" Nayantara asked, confused.

"I slipped into the water," Divyanshika said, her mind flickering back to the moment—the fall, and him.

"What? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?" Nayantara's concern was immediate, her brows furrowing.

"I’m fine, Nayan. Don’t worry." Divyanshika's voice was calm as she shifted the conversation. "How was the festival? Did you enjoy yourself?"

Nayantara’s face lit up, her smile wide and genuine. "Oh, I definitely did! The Gangaur festival here—it was incredible. I've never celebrated it like this before!" Nayantara’s infectious excitement momentarily eased the heavy burden on Divyanshika’s mind. In moments like these, Nayantara was the only thing that kept her from being swallowed whole by her pain.

"Did you notice the women here?" Nayantara continued, her voice filled with awe. "They’re all so beautiful, Divya! Their skin, their glow—it’s like they’ve been kissed by the gods themselves! And no wonder—they’re all part of Maharaj Hridayveer Aryavart’s court. They come from every corner of Aryavart, the most beautiful women in the land. I heard Rajmata has invited princesses from all over because she wants the Maharaj to marry soon. Apparently, he's choosing his queen today!"

The mention of marriage caused Divyanshika’s mood to shift once more, the smile on her lips fading. So, after ruining countless lives, after leaving a trail of devastation in his wake, he was now free to live happily ever after? The thought was vile. Of course, he had his pick of women—he was a king. With every victory, he claimed princesses and noblewomen, filling the halls of Sangam Mahal with them. Though they lived in luxury, with all the respect a woman could be afforded, they were not his queens, merely possessions in his ever-growing collection.

"And where did you learn all this?" Divyanshika teased, shaking her head. "You’ve turned into quite the little spy, haven’t you?"

Nayantara giggled. "It’s hard not to overhear things in this palace!" Then she added mischievously, "I wish I could see Maharaj. I bet he is handsome—he has to be!"

Handsome? Divyanshika felt a wave of disgust rising in her chest, but she couldn't help but think of those black, soulless eyes—eyes that were as unreadable and cold as the depths of a dark ocean. "There’s nothing to see in him," she muttered to herself dismissively, but the memory of those eyes lingered, haunting her.

Nayantara, oblivious to her inner turmoil, prattled on. "Did you see anything in the river when you floated your diya? Maa says if you’re lucky, you can catch a glimpse of your future in the water." Her voice was filled with excitement, but Divyanshika's mind went back to that moment—she had seen something. Him.

"No, nothing," Divyanshika lied smoothly, unwilling to share the truth. If he was in her future, it was only because she would bring about his end. That much she was certain of.

Nayantara groaned dramatically, flopping over onto Divyanshika. "Ugh, our future is doomed! Even Maa Gauri doesn’t want to help us. I just wanted to see a handsome man in the water!"

Divyanshika laughed, the sound filling the room as she pushed Nayantara playfully off her. The two girls' laughter echoed through the chamber, creating a bubble of warmth and joy that, for a moment, made them forget the looming darkness that lay ahead. The future they joked about, so filled with light-hearted dreams, was on the cusp of being overtaken by the darkest of storms, though neither of them realized it yet.

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