A Bond of Blood and a Cry Across Kingdoms
The tension in the Chandrapuri garden melted away, replaced by the warm, golden glow of a sibling reunion. Mrinal and Devansh clung on to each other-the fierce embrace that spoke of years in separation, love forged in childhood adventures, and shared secrets. The world with its assassins and menacing marks melted into insignificance.
"Didi," Devansh finally whispered, drawing back to peer into her face, his blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. "All these months. your letters were so few. We worried."
Mrinal playfully pinched his cheek, the way he used to when they were kids. "I was buried deep in the Himalayan Gurukul, little brother. Teaching those young girls how to hold a sword without cutting their own fingers takes some time and lots of patience. You know I could never resist their eager faces."
The Queen let out a shaking breath, her hand still over her heart. "Mrinal, beta, your methods of announcing your return will be the death of me. When I saw that arrow fly towards your brother."
The Maharaja, who had arrived silently, chuckled and laid a reassuring hand upon his wife's shoulder. "See, my dear? This is the daughter we raised. We fear not for her safety, but for the shock her protective love gives our hearts!"
Laughter, genuine and relieved, rippled through the family. Mrinal, ever the warrior, gave her sword a playful flourish. "Tell me honestly, Pitashri, is that a complaint or a compliment hidden in your words?"
Devansh grinned, the memory surfacing. "Compliment, without a doubt. Remember when we were children, Didi? That caravan journey where bandits ambushed us? She stood before me with nothing but a walking stick, her eyes promising utter ruin, and sent five grown men running for the hills."
The Queen sighed dramatically, her eyes twinkling. "Yes, and I found my first grey hair the very next morning!
The laughter they shared was a balm, weaving a tapestry of normalcy and love around them. It felt like old times-a sanctuary of familial joy.
Later, over dinner, the great hall reverberated with Mrinal's enthusiastic accounts. "These girls at Gurukul are something else. There's this one, Radhika—her footwork is so perfect, and her spirit, oh so aggressive. It is as though Durga herself were breathing through that small frame."
"And Guruji?" Devansh asked, pushing a piece of jalebi towards his sister.
"He is well, and he sends his blessings," Mrinal said, her gaze softening. "He asked after you specifically. He said, 'The winds carry whispers of Chandrapuri's Melody Prince. I long for the day I can quiet my soul to hear his ragas.'"
The Maharaja puffed his chest with pride. "One child, a master of the arts of peace, the other, a master of the arts of war. The balance of Shiva and Parvati resides in our home."
The Queen nodded, smiling fondly at both her children. "And yet, they have learned from each other. Mrinal can weave a tale with her sitar almost as well as she wields her sword, and Devansh's hand is steadier with a blade than he lets on."
Mrinal's eyes met Devansh's across the table, her expression thoughtful. "It's true, we are two sides of the same coin. But Bhaiya's veena." she paused, her head turning slightly. ".it doesn't just create music, does it? It holds an echo of something. older. A magic that isn't taught in any Gurukul."
Devansh's smile froze on his face. His gaze automatically swiveled to where Vani rested, silent and still. The casual observation sent a jolt of alarm through him. How much does she know? Or is she just guessing? The easy comfort of the moment suddenly felt thin, fragile.
---
Exactly at that moment, in Suryapuri.
Aaditya sat in his chambers, staring at a blank parchment, the sight of a chariot disappearing into dust etched into his mind. Just as he was about to dip his quill, a blinding white-hot pain exploded behind his eyes.
"AGH!"
It was not a headache. It was an invasion. A psychic dagger twisting in his mind. He clutched his temples, his vision swimming as he stumbled from his chair. His crimson eyes, usually filled with fire, now blazed with an unnatural, internal light, casting flickering red shadows on the walls. The air in the room grew thick and heavy, carrying the metallic tang of ozone and something darker, something rotten—the unmistakable stench of a directed magical assault.
He tried to fight it, to call forth the energy of the sun that was his birthright, but the attack was a vortex, sucking his consciousness into a void of agony. His legs buckled, and he fell onto the chill marble floor, the world dissolving into silent painful darkness.
Lying thus, helpless, the shadows in his room corner deepened, swirling like ink in water. A figure emerged from within them.
The man in the obsidian mask. His presence was a blight, a hole in reality. He glided forward, his movements utterly silent. In his hand, he held not a conventional sword, but a blade forged from solidified shadow, its edges shimmering with a faint, hungry purple light, visible even in the dark room.
He stood over the prone, unconscious form of Aaditya, a predator surveying its kill. He raised the shadowy sword, its tip aimed precisely at the center of Aaditya's chest, where his heart beat a frantic, trapped rhythm.
"There will be no veena to save you here, Sun Prince," a cold and resonant voice-the sound of a funeral bell-echoed in the silent room. "No bond is strong enough to cross this distance. Your fire dies tonight."
And the blade began its descent.
-
Back in Chandrapuri.
Devansh was laughing at another of Mrinal's jokes when he suddenly choked, the laughter dying in his throat. His hand flew to his own chest, his eyes widening in shock and terror. A pain, sharp and psychic, lanced through him—a sympathetic echo of a wound meant for another. The world tilted. In his mind's eye, he didn't see his sister's face, but a pair of fiery, pain-filled crimson eyes.
Aaditya.
The bond they had forged, the one that began to spark in a garden and was tempered in fire, screamed a silent warning of desperation across the miles.
Mrinal's laughter was cut off abruptly. "Devansh? What's wrong?" she asked, her voice sharp with concern, her warrior instincts kicking in.
But Devansh couldn't answer. He was already stumbling back from the table, his face ashen, his breath coming in short gasps. His veena, Vani, which had been quiet in its corner, began to vibrate, emitting a low, distressed hum that filled the sudden silence of the hall.
The family's joy had shattered. A faraway danger was now a present, terrifying reality. A shadow had fallen over Suryapuri, and its chill had reached across a kingdom to clutch at the heart of the Melody Prince. - Chapter End Note: The cry of agony cuts across a spiritual tether, violently interrupting the joyful reunion. Devansh knows Aaditya's peril as his own in a bond deep enough to defy logic and distance, and can this be a bond strong enough to serve as a lifeline? Helpless Aaditya sees a horrified Devansh as his only witness, powerless and miles away, as a blade of pure shadow falls upon him. The next move in the deadly game is that of the enemy, and there seems no one left to make a counter-play. Suryapuri's light flickers on the brink of extinction.