​The night forest was a jagged monster of dark thorns and howling wind.

​Her breath tore from her throat in jagged, silver gasps. Branches whipped across her face, leaving stinging welts, but the girl did not stop. She couldn't.

​Behind her, the crude heavy thud of leather boots and harsh, guttural laughter echoed through the dense trees. Her legs burned, every nerve screaming in exhaustion.

​A root caught her ankle. She stumbled forward with a gasp, her momentum carrying her straight into a shadowy figure standing motionless ahead.

​She hit his chest like a feather crashing against solid granite. A sharp, violent jolt of fear shot through her veins.

​The man turned slowly.

​Moonlight caught his quiet, unyielding gaze-a face cut from stone, eyes cold as winter steel. Her wide, crimson-rimmed eyes welled with sheer terror.

​Shivering, she scrambled behind his broad back, clutching at the dark fabric of his attire.

​"Please... save me," she rasped, her voice trembling violently.

"These goons are after me."

​Three bandits burst through the foliage, weapons drawn and eyes gleefully wild.

​"Leave the girl and run, or it won't end well for you!" the lead bandit growled, stepping forward.

​The man did not move.

He did not speak.

He simply crossed both hands behind his back, his posture immovably subtle, his gaze fixed on them with terrifying stillness.

​One of the men stepped closer, lifting a flickering lantern to illuminate the stranger's face.

​The moment the flame hit the man's features, the goon's smile withered. The lantern trembled in his hand, a cold sweat breaking across his brow. He staggered two steps backward.

​"V-Vikram... Rana," the bandit choked out, his voice instantly drained of bravado.

​The group halted in dead silence.

​"Let's go. We leave now," the bandit leader muttered hastily, turning his back.

​A younger, arrogant goon spat on the grass, unsheathing a heavy blade.

"Who is this Rana anyway? Why are you running like a coward?"

​"He is the Sarva Shresht Yodha of Devashram!" the bandit hissed back desperately.

"No warrior has ever been born who can defeat him! Save your life and move!"

​"I am no less," the young goon snorted, stepping forward aggressively.

"I will prove it to you all!"

​He lunged, swinging his sword straight for Vikram's neck.

​Without moving an inch of his upper body, Vikram caught the descending blade mid-air with his left hand-his right hand remaining completely motionless behind his back.

​"Bad move," Vikram said, his voice a low, icy murmur.

​In one swift, effortless strike with his free hand, Vikram delivered a crushing blow to the man's chest. The goon collapsed onto the dirt like a felled tree, unconscious.

​Enraged, the remaining goons charged all at once.

​The forest exploded into chaos. Vikram moved like a phantom-dodging lethal strikes with terrifying grace, his movements precise, deadly, and entirely unhurried.

​Behind him, the girl pressed herself against an ancient banyan tree, trembling uncontrollably, her eyes wide and bloodshot with panic.

​Suddenly, the first goon scrambled up from the dirt behind Vikram, a jagged dagger raised to plunge into the warrior's unprotected spine.

​"No!"

​The girl didn't think. She threw her bare body forward, catching the razor-sharp blade in both her palms to stop its path.

​The cold metal cut deep. Crimson blood gushed instantly from her hands, dripping onto the dead leaves below.

​Vikram turned his head slightly. The scent of fresh blood hit the air.

​His eyes locked onto her bleeding palms. A dangerous, lethal shift swept over his expression.

​In one seamless, blinding motion, Vikram seized the attacking goon by the throat, lifted him high into the air, and slammed him savagely into the hard earth.

​"Run!" the bandits screamed, scrambling over one another into the dark woods, abandoning their weapons.

​Silence returned to the forest.

​The girl stood shivering, her breath shallow, her hands dripping blood onto the soil.

Vikram lowered his gaze, refusing to look at her face. His entire focus shifted strictly to her wounds.

​He stepped closer and extended both his hands, palms open.

​"Devi, izazat ho toh main aapka maram-patti karu?"

(If you permit, lady, may I bandage your wounds?)

​Trembling, she placed her bleeding hands above his.

​Vikram drew a strip of clean, soft cloth from his waist pouch.

With unbelievable gentleness, he wiped the crimson traces and wrapped her palms smoothly, tying a neat knot without inflicting a single grain of extra pain.

​"Devi, aapko kahan jana hai?" he asked softly, keeping his tone measured.

"Aap kahiye, main aapko chhod deta hoon."

(Lady, where do you wish to go? Tell me, and I shall drop you there.)

​She looked down at her wrapped hands. "I am alone... I don't have anywhere to go."

​Vikram paused, contemplating silently for a brief second.

​"Agar aapko koi dikkat nahi hai... toh aap hamare saath Devashram chal sakti hain."

(If you have no objection... you may come with us to Devashram.)

​She hesitated, then gave a slow, relieved nod.

"Ji, Dhanyavad."
(Yes, certainly.)

​She stepped forward to walk beside him, but Vikram subtly gestured with his hand, signaling for her to walk ahead of him so he could guard her from behind.

She quickly complied, her steps quiet in the night.

​After a long trek through the thick foliage, the grand wooden gates of Devashram emerged through the mist-a legendary sanctuary where warriors were forged.

​Standing at the gates was Mata Arundhati, the wife of Swami Satya Dev. The moment she spotted Vikram, she rushed forward, her face lined with deep worry.

​"Itna der kyun lag gaya Vikram?" she scolded gently.

"Mana kiya tha na... kal subah jaakar jadibuti la sakte hain!"

(Why did you take so long? Didn't I tell you that you could gather the medicinal herbs tomorrow morning?)

​"Then you would have been in pain all night, Mata," Vikram replied quietly.

​Arundhati hit her hand against her own forehead, exasperated.

"Hamesha doosron ke baare mein hi nahi... kabhi apni hifazat ke baare mein bhi socho!"

(Don't always think of others... think about your own safety for once!)

​"Mata, wo..." Vikram paused, tilting his head slightly back.

"Devi."

​The girl stepped out from behind Vikram's broad shadow.

​Arundhati blinked in surprise, her eyes darting between the girl's bandaged hands and Vikram's unreadable face.

​"This lady was attacked by goons in the forest. I saved her," Vikram explained calmly.

"She will stay here for a few days."

​Arundhati softened instantly.

"Naam kya hai bitiya ka?"

(What is the child's name?)

​Vikram turned his head slightly toward the girl.

"Devi, aapka naam?"

(Lady, your name?)

​The girl raised her chin, looking straight into Vikram's dark eyes.

​"Vedika."

​Arundhati placed a warm, motherly hand on Vedika's shoulder.

"Aao beta, andar chalo. Thak gayi hogi, raat bhi bohot ho gayi hai. Main aapke sone ka bandobast karti hoon."

(Come inside, child. You must be exhausted, and it's late. I will arrange a place for you to sleep.)

​She led the silent girl into the warm glow of the ashram, leaving Vikram standing alone in the cool night breeze.

________________________________________________________________________

​Meanwhile, at Tejgarh Rajmahal...

​The grand royal court was suffused with suffocating tension.

​Seated upon the gold-embossed throne, King Adhiraj was practically vibrating with rage. His knuckles were white against the armrests.

​"Did you find anything?" he demanded, his voice ringing through the hall like thunder.

​The kneeling soldier bowed his head, trembling.

"N-No, Your Majesty..."

​Adhiraj released an animalistic growl. In one fluid, violent motion, he unsheathed his heavy royal sword and severed the soldier's head in a single stroke.

​The headless body collapsed onto the marble floor. Blood pooled rapidly.

​A collective shiver ran through the assembled courtiers.

No one dared to breathe.

​From his seat, Virajit Singh-the Rajpita and father of Adhiraj-stood up smoothly. He raised a stern hand toward the terrified court.

​"Ekaant!"

(Clear the hall!)

​The courtiers and guards scrambled out in frantic silence.

​Virajit stepped down from the dais and placed a steady hand on Adhiraj's furious shoulder.

"Putr, apne gusse par kaboo karo."

(Son, control your anger.)

​"How can I, Pitashri?!" Adhiraj roared, his chest heaving.

"That bird flew right out under my nose! It has been a long time, and we still haven't found the traitor who helped Vaidehi escape from the dungeon!"

​"We will find that traitor too, Putr," Virajit replied coldly.

"Have patience."

​In another wing of the palace, Princess Aakriti Singh was silently tending to the potted plants in her balcony garden.

​Her maid, Meera, rushed into the chamber, breathless.

​"Rajkumari! Do you know what Rajasa did today?" Meera whispered hurriedly.

​Aakriti did not turn around, her hand delicately pouring water over fresh soil.

"What did Bhai sa do?"

​"He beheaded a soldier right in the middle of the court!" Meera gasped.

"Because the poor man failed to bring information about the traitor who helped Ranisa escape!"

​The clay pot in Aakriti's hand faltered slightly.

​A violent shiver ran straight down her spine.

Her dark eyes filled with a sudden, sharp panic, though her face remained completely stone-still.

​"I see..." Aakriti said, her voice eerily steady. She immediately put the pot down.

"Forget all this. Go and deliver these fresh flowers to Matashri."

​"As you command, Rajkumari," Meera bowed and swiftly exited.

​The moment the doors closed, Aakriti's composure shattered. She paced back and forth in hyperventilating distress before collapsing onto the edge of her luxurious bed, clutching her cold hands together.

​The chamber door swung open quietly.

​General Anvay Suryavanshi walked in. His sharp eyes immediately registered her pale, trembling state, but his face betrayed nothing.

He walked past her toward the garden balcony without saying a word.

​He looked at the wet soil.

"You have already watered the plants?"

​"Yes," Aakriti whispered, her throat dry.

​"Thank you, Rajkumari," Anvay said quietly.

​Overwhelmed by intense fear and dizziness, Aakriti suddenly stood up-only for her vision to go black. She reeled backward.

​Before she could hit the marble floor, Anvay caught her by the waist, holding her securely against his chest.

​"Dhyan se, Rajkumari. Aap theek toh hain?"

(Be careful, Princess. Are you alright?)

​Aakriti violently shoved his hands away, staggering back against the bedpost.

​"I am fine!" she snapped, her voice trembling with defensive rage.

​"You don't look fine to me," Anvay murmured, his eyes locking onto hers.

​"Don't!" Aakriti spat, pulling her royal mantle tightly around her shoulders.

"This marriage is strictly in name only! I only married you for the sake of Rajmata Visakha! It would be wise for you to stay within your limits and not ask me any further questions!"

​Anvay's face softened into a pitiful, sorrowful expression.

​"Ji, Rajkumari. Jaisa aap behtar samjhein."

(Yes, Princess. As you think best.)

​Aakriti pulled the heavy silk blanket over herself and turned her back to him, shutting her eyes tightly in the dark.

​Anvay walked slowly to his side of the bed. He laid down, rest his arm behind his head, and slowly turned his head to look at her trembling, turned shoulder.

​The pitiful expression on his face dissolved into a slow, razor-sharp smirk.

​I know very well the real reason behind your distress, Rajkumari... he murmured in his thoughts, closing his eyes into the shadows of the room.

​
​How was the first chapter, guys?

I am eagerly waiting to read all your theories!

​Why is Adhiraj so furious ?

​Why do you think Rajkumari Aakriti is so terrified ?

​What dangerous secrets is the Rajmahal of Tejgarh holding behind its golden doors?

​What does General Anvay Suryavanshi truly know... and why did he smirk?

Also you can follow me on instagram @shiningstarwrites