Magadh, once a shining jewel at the height of its power, had been a force to be reckoned with. But as the ages passed, the jewel dulled. What remained was only a stone that remembered how to shine. The king cared more for his pets than his people, and the queen's influence grew where his attention thinned. In the court, factions whispered and sharpened their knives in silken sleeves. None saw eye to eye, and beneath their quarrels, it was the common folk who paid the price.
Yet, there were still those who hoped for a better tomorrow. Hoped for a saviour. And the crown prince wished to become this beacon of warmth for them. He was everything a nation with dying glory could ever want. And yet, to many, that was his biggest flaw.
The youngest prince was the darling of the people- untouched by corrupt politics, and was all kindness. The second prince was all that was wrong with the nation.
Angad looked first to the youngest prince, radiant as early sunlight, untouched by the grime of court. Then his gaze shifted to the second prince—drunk, languid, cradled between two lovers beneath the peepal tree, watching the world through half-lowered lashes.
For the hundredth time, he wondered how men born of the same blood could stand at such opposite ends.