By day, Rashmi was the obedient daughter— smiling through campaign speeches, standing beside Adityanand at public events, her face appearing on local posters beside his.
But by night, she was different.
She spends her time with Dev, sometimes near the riverbank, sometimes beneath the village banyan tree, and once—brazenly—on the rooftop of a half-built temple under construction by the Ashram.
They said little when they met. But instead they started lovemaking with each other.
Rashmi's body moved with a newfound confidence and passion as she made love to Dev on the rooftop of the half built temple.
The cool night air brushed against her skin, but she barely noticed, consumed by the heat of their lovemaking. She arched her back, her hips rolling against Dev's, her nails raking down his chest.
Dev groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he thrust into her. "You're insatiable," he panted, his voice husky with desire. "My little wildcat, so fierce and passionate."
Rashmi bit her lip, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Only with you," she whispered, leaning in to capture his earlobe between her teeth. "You bring out a side of me I never knew existed."
Dev's hips snapped forward, his shaft plunging deep into her core. "I love this side of you,"
—
Rashmi wasn't naive anymore.
The more time she spent near Adityanand, the more she saw the hollowness in his gaze. His hands lingered too long on servant girls. And sometimes it reached inside their sarees.
But it was Dev's face that brought the peace within her. It was his cock, who always calmed her down.
His touch that made her forget everything else.
---
One evening, under the veil of darkness, Dev snuck into the garden behind Rashmi's temporary residence in the town.
She had left a single diya (oil lamp) in her window—a signal.
He scaled the wall like a shadow.
Inside, she was waiting in a simple white cotton kurta, hair wet from a recent bath, the scent of jasmine oil faint in the air. The moment their eyes met, the tension broke.
She rushed into his arms.
"You're insane," she whispered.
"Maybe," he said, kissing her forehead. "But only for you."
Dev's arms tightened around Rashmi, pulling her closer. "I'd climb a thousand walls for you," he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair. "I'd brave a thousand dangers, just to be with you."
Rashmi's heart swelled with love and admiration for the man in her arms. He was her rebel, her warrior, her everything.
She tilted her head back, her eyes meeting him in the dim light of the diya.
"Make love to me, Dev," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "Make me forget about the world outside, about the expectations and duties that bind me. Just for tonight, let me be yours completely."
Dev's eyes darkened with desire, his hands gripping her waist possessively. "With pleasure," he growled, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss. He walked her backwards until her back hit the wall, his body pressing against hers, his hardness evident even through their clothes.
Rashmi gasped into the kiss, her hands fisting in Dev's hair, holding him close. Dev's hands roamed her body, slipping beneath her kurta to caress her bare skin. He pushed the fabric up, baring her to his hungry gaze.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point. "You're so damn beautiful, Rashmi."
He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, his body covering hers, his hips settling between her thighs. Rashmi arched into him, her core pressing against his hardness, seeking friction.
Dev groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. "Slow down, my love," he panted. "We have all night. I want to savor every moment with you."
Rashmi whimpered, her nails digging into Dev's back. "I can't," she breathed, her hips lifting to grind against him. "I need you, Dev. I need to feel you inside me. Please."
Dev cursed under his breath, his control snapping. He sat back on his knees, quickly undoing his pants and freeing his thick, hard shaft. Rashmi's eyes widened at the sight, her core clenching with anticipation.
Dev leaned down, pushing her kurta up and over her head, leaving her completely bare. He drank in the sight of her, his eyes darkening with lust. "So perfect," he murmured, positioning himself at her entrance.
With one powerful thrust, he entered her, his thickness stretching her walls deliciously. Rashmi cried out, her back arching off the bed, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. "Dev!" she screamed, her nails raking down his back.
Dev stilled, his face contorting with pleasure and restraint. "Fuck, Rashmi," he groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. "You feel so good. So tight and wet and perfect."
He began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Rashmi matched his pace, her hips lifting to meet his every thrust. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, their hearts beating as one.
Dev leaned down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss as he drove into her. Their tongues tangled, their breaths mingled, their souls intertwined. The world faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in their love and desire.
Rashmi felt the familiar coil of pleasure building in her core, her walls tightening around Dev's shaft. "Dev," she gasped against his lips, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm close. So close."
Dev's thrusts became more urgent, more desperate. He could feel Rashmi's walls fluttering around him, could sense her approaching climax. "Come for me, my love," he panted, his voice strained with his own impending release. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you."
He reached between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in tight circles. Rashmi's body bowed off the bed, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her orgasm crashed over her. Dev felt her walls clamp down around him, squeezing his shaft like a vice.
With a roar, Dev followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he spilled his seed deep inside her. He collapsed on top of her, his body shaking with the force of his release.
They lay there, tangled in each other's arms, their hearts racing, their breaths mingling.
Afterward, lying with her head on his chest, Rashmi said softly:
"They will kill you if they find out."
Dev didn't flinch. "Then let them try."
---
The next morning, the Ashram buzzed with movement. Adityanand had grown suspicious. Rashmi had rejected his attempt to touch her the night before. His ego was bruised.
He didn't say it, but his eyes—dark, shark like—searched every corner of her body for betrayal.
But he didn't know, that girl never allowed to touch him, has every night served Dev as his desires.
Kailash Yadav, had also sensed something was off. He began pressing Rashmi to make the engagement public.
Meanwhile, Dev kept training harder.
He could now call upon three moves from the scroll in combat.
Trinetra — letting him read people's intentions with uncanny accuracy.
Adrishyachakra — not fully mastered, but enough to blend into darkness.
And fragments of Dharmachakra, which he practiced until his palms bled.
He knew he was running out of time.
And he knew one thing more than anything else:
Rashmi was not going to be taken by a monster. She was only going to become his wife.
---
It was past midnight.
The Ashram was silent, cloaked in a false peace. But in his hidden chamber behind the storeroom, Dev sat cross-legged before the ancient scroll. Candles flickered around him.
Sweat trickled down his back, but his mind was razor-sharp, hyper-focused.
He had read the scroll dozens of times.
But tonight, a new section revealed itself.
A faint layer of ink shimmered under the candlelight — visible only when mixed with a few drops of rudraksha oil he'd once stolen from the Swami's private altar.
The Sanskrit symbols rearranged themselves, swirling into a forgotten verse:
"Yatra nadyām guptam mandiram,
Jahan Mrityu swayam dwaar banata hai,
Wahi milta hai jeevan ka satya."
(Where the hidden temple sleeps within the river,
Where death itself guards the gate —
There lies the truth of life.)
Dev's heart pounded.
A temple inside the river?
His memories flashed — a local legend once told by an old Sadhu near the riverbanks. A story no one took seriously. About a time-worn shrine that had sunk beneath the waters centuries ago, cursed and forgotten.
Most thought it was a myth.
But now, Dev knew it was real.
---
At dawn, he made his way to the Kshirnadi River, draped in a faded cloak, weapons strapped beneath. The river was deceptively calm. He walked along its edge, scanning the water, the rocks, and the bend near the banyan roots.
That's when he saw it.
A thin shimmer just beneath the surface — a circular carving on a submerged stone, barely noticeable to the naked eye.
He dove in.
The water was colder than ice. Visibility vanished within seconds. But the scroll had described a symbol — a three-spoked wheel carved into an arch of stone. His fingers felt it before his eyes saw it.
And then — the current shifted.
A whirlpool formed unnaturally near the base of the riverbed. And instead of pulling him under, it opened… gently. A hidden passage.
He swam down.
---
Dev emerged into an ancient stone cavern filled with still water
He surfaced into a submerged chamber — water waist-deep, stone cold beneath his feet. The air was dense and damp, heavy with age.
Moss grew between the cracks of black stone, but the space felt alive. A strange peace floated here, like time itself had slowed.
And in the center, towering and magnificent, stood a lone statue — not dozens of nameless deities, but one form alone:
Lord Shiva, in his aspect as Mahakaal —
The Lord of Time. The Destroyer. The Guardian of Rebirth.
Unlike anything Dev had ever seen, the statue's third eye was open, carved with precision and radiating eerie silence.
Serpents coiled around his neck, and beneath his feet lay a circle of fire — a symbolic ring of destruction and creation.
At the base of the statue, in golden ink, ancient Sanskrit text had been etched:
"Jīvan hi Mṛtyu hai, Mṛtyu hi Jīvan hai.
Jo Mṛtyu ko gale lagā le, vahi satya jīvan ko prāpt kartā hai. Parantu, binā mṛtyu ke, kaun mṛtyu ko prāpt kare?"
"Life is death. Death is life. He who embraces death, shall attain the truth of existence.
But without dying… who truly reaches death?"
He stepped onto the marble floor, heart racing.
In the center of the temple, an eight-sided pillar rose from the ground, etched with the names of the four great moves:
Dharmachakra
Adrishyachakra
Trinetra
Agnichakra
And four more he hadn't seen before:
Netranasha – the move that could blind an enemy by gaze alone.
Sharvachakra – the "circle of all," said to merge all other forms into one unstoppable technique.
Vayuchakra – The power of wind, which can give life, so it also takes lifes.
Neerchakra – The water is present everywhere, inside of every living thing.
A voice — or was it a thought? — echoed in his mind:
"Only the one who embraces death without fear may claim the knowledge hidden here."
He collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed.
This was the place.
The origin of the scroll.
The true path to power.
But it demanded a price — perhaps more than he was ready to give.