A Raga of Rain and a Glimpse of ShadowThe serene moonlight was devoured by the hellish glow of fire. The princes, sprinting from the rooftop, became a blur of adrenaline and dread.
"Where is the fire? Speak!" Aaditya's command was a whip-crack as, his voice raw with a son's fear, he grabbed a fleeing guard.
"The east wing, Yuvaraj! The Queen's private chambers!" the man gasped, face smudged with soot.
Aaditya's blood ran cold. "Mata!"
They ran through the chaotic corridors, the air growing thick with the acrid taste of smoke. At the eastern wing, it was a scene of controlled pandemonium. Servants formed a frantic bucket brigade, but their efforts seemed pitiful against the roaring inferno that had taken hold of the ornate wooden structure. Maharaja Viraj stood like a statue of anguish, his face ashen, watching the flames consume his wife's sanctuary.
"The Queen. she is still inside! She was resting!" a maid wept, her voice shrill with terror. "The main beam collapsed, blocking the door!"
That was all Aaditya needed to hear. A primeval, protective anger coursed up his veins, canceling out his reasoning mind. "MATA!" he thundered, and before any better judgment could stay his movements, he plunged toward the burning doorway.
"AADITYA, NO!" Devansh shot out his hand, clutching his friend's arm with desperate strength. "It's a death trap! Let the guards—"
But Aaditya wrenched himself free, his fiery eyes reflecting the inferno. "That is my mother in there!" And with those words, he vanished into the wall of flame and smoke.
Devansh's heart sank. He could do nothing but stand and stare as a cascade of blazing embers and part of the ornamented lintel broke off, falling to shut the entrance behind the Yuvaraj. A chorus of horrified screams rose from the crowd.
No, not him. I won't lose him.
A moment before, his mind was frozen with fear; now it snapped into a state of crystalline focus. His gaze swept the scene: the Maharaja in his despair, the soldiers in their futile efforts, the servants in their panic. No one was watching him.
He melted into a deep, shadowed alcove off the main courtyard, his back to the chaos. His fingers, steady despite the tremor in his soul, found their home on the strings of Vani.
Tan.
The note was soft, lost almost in the cacophony, but it carried an undeniable weight. It was a call.
Ta. Na.
He closed his eyes, shutting out the world. In his mind, he was not in a burning palace; he was at the heart of a gathering storm. He wove the notes together, not into a raga of healing, but one of summoning—the Raga Megh Malhar, the ancient melody to call the clouds.
Tan-ta-na-ri-na.
The magic was flowing from his soul, through his fingertips, and into the veena. The air around him started to hum, charged with a power that had nothing to do with heat. High above, unnoticed at first, dark clouds began to knit themselves together against the clear night sky, swirling as if drawn by an invisible vortex.
A low rumble of thunder echoed, a deep bass note to Devansh's soaring melody.
People started to look upwards, and confusion cut through the panic. "Thunder? But the sky was clear!"
Then it came. Not a gentle sprinkle, but a torrential, monsoonal downpour as if the heavens had ripped open directly above the eastern wing. The rain fell in thick, drenching sheets, sizzling as it hit the raging fire. Steam billowed in massive clouds, but the flames, so defiant moments before, began to hiss and sputter, their fury quenched by the divine deluge.
The rain suddenly gave way inside the smoldering ruins, making a path. Aaditya seized the opportunity, shielding his mother with his body. He burst through the weakened embers and smoke, carrying the Queen to safety, both coughing but unharmed.
"Mata! Aaditya!" The Maharaja went forward, pulling them into a bone-crushing embrace, his relief an almost palpable thing.
A wave of elated cries and cheers of exhaustion rose from the assembled people. But Aaditya's eyes, after his mother had been taken care of, scanned the courtyard. They found Devansh, who was just slipping Vani back into its case, his clothes damp, his expression carefully neutral.
"Devansh," Aaditya panted, coming near him. "You are unhurt?"
Devansh gave a small, strained smile. "I am. You. you were incredibly brave."
"But this rain." Aaditya's gaze was intense, searching. He looked up at the sky, where the clouds were already beginning to disperse as suddenly as they had gathered, revealing the moon in confusion. "It was too sudden. Too. convenient. It was as if the gods themselves intervened."
Devansh said nothing, offering no explanation whatsoever, while his silence was louder than any lie.
It was then that the still-trembling but clear-eyed Queen extended a slender finger to the far end of the garden, her voice barely a whisper. "Look. There."
All eyes followed her gesture. For just a moment, silhouetted against the moon-washed palace wall, was a figure. A man, draped in a shawl of unnatural blackness that seemed to absorb the light, his face hidden behind a smooth, obsidian mask. He stood perfectly still, watching them.
"The shadow!" shouted Aaditya. "Seize him!"
The guards lunged forward, but the figure didn't run. He simply took one step back into the deeper shadows of a banyan tree and melted away, vanishing as if he were made of the same darkness.
Maharaja Viraj's face hardened, his paternal relief transforming into a king's cold rage. "This was no accident. This was a deliberate, targeted attack on my family."
As the crowd, now relieved, started to head indoors, the Queen continued looking in Devansh's direction. Her eyes, wise and observant, veered down toward the veena case he was clutching protectively. They bore no accusation, only a deep, dawning comprehension. Then she turned and allowed herself to be led away.
A chill ran down Devansh's spine that had nothing to do with the rain. She knows.
Aaditya placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come, friend. Let us get you dry."
But as Devansh turned to follow, he glanced back one last time at the spot where the shadow had stood. And in the quiet of his soul, he felt it—a faint, resonant vibration from Vani, a silent echo of the dark power that had been watching, a confirmation that the battle was far from over.
: The fire is out, but the conspiracy burns brighter. Aaditya's bravery is unmatched, but Devansh's secret is slipping. The Queen may be an unlikely ally-or a witness who holds his fate in her hands. The masked man is no longer a phantom in the forest; he has invaded the heart of the palace, his audacity growing. How long can Devansh hide the divine magic that courses from his soul through Vani? And when Aaditya finally pieces it all together, what shall that mean to their fledgling friendship? The shadows are closing in.