The Chitradurga palace was no longer a home of pride — it was a theater of suspicion.
Every corridor echoed too long. Every whisper traveled too far. Every smile lingered a second too late.
Obavva stood at the edge of the royal balcony, watching the torches flicker in the courtyard below. Soldiers drilled with hollow intensity — but no one looked into anyone's eyes anymore.
Trust was dying.
The Queen joined her silently. Mallamma's royal robes now carried armor beneath. A curved dagger rested at her waist.
"You suspect someone," she said, not as a question.
"I suspect everyone," Obavva replied.
Mallamma nodded, understanding the bitterness in those words. "Then start with the council."
The Council of Seven met that evening in the Hall of Granite — the war chamber of Chitradurga, named for the fortress itself. The chamber was cold, circular, lit only by a suspended iron brazier. Around it sat the highest advisors — Rajguru Veerappa, General Mahadeva, Treasurer Ragi Nandan, Minister Hemavati, Commander Ballal, and Queen's Advisor Somdev.
Obavva sat among them, now not merely a watchguard, but the bladebearer of Shaktiraaksh — the Obavvari reborn.
Mallamma stood as war queen, her voice clear, calm, and commanding.
"Someone in this room gave Lankesh to the Veilmakers."
Silence.
Then Veerappa, the aged Rajguru, scoffed. "An accusation like that needs evidence, not fear."
"Fear is the evidence," Obavva said. "He knew where we were going. He had access to royal missions. And the poison he used was Veilmaker alchemy — banned even in Mysore."
"Perhaps he was merely possessed," muttered Somdev, fingers twitching nervously.
"Possession leaves glyphs. Voluntary joining leaves none," Obavva replied coldly.
That shut them up.
Mallamma let the silence settle before continuing. "I want your chambers searched. Every scroll read. Every interaction noted. And until this is resolved—none of you leave the palace."
Veerappa stood, trembling. "I served your mother. I taught you our scriptures. You will not insult me like a criminal—"
But Obavva cut in. "And how do you explain this?"
She reached into her satchel and slammed a parchment on the table.
A letter. Sealed with the mark of Mysore — but in Chitradurga dialect. It was intercepted on a courier pigeon three days ago.
Ragi Nandan, the treasurer, leaned forward. "What does it say?"
Obavva read aloud:
"Shaktiraaksh is awake. The girl wields it. She returns to court tonight. Delay her if needed. The Queen must not know until the Old Eye is fed."
No one spoke.
"Who is the sender?" Hemavati asked slowly.
Obavva stared at her. "That's what I aim to find out. But the script—" She pointed. "It's a blend of old Ballari curves and Mysore brevity. A style only a trained court scribe could use. And guess who oversees palace scribes?"
Eyes turned to Somdev.
He froze.
"That's absurd!" he barked. "I've never—"
Obavva moved fast.
In two steps she was beside him, slamming his chair back. Her pestle hovered above his throat.
"Your fingers," she growled. "Stained with red ink. Yet no reports were filed today."
Mallamma stepped forward. "Take him to the dungeons."
As guards dragged Somdev away, screaming, Obavva met Mallamma's eyes.
"One snake caught," she said.
"But snakes breed in nests," the Queen replied.
That night, Obavva returned to her chambers, exhausted. She expected silence. Instead, she found Veda waiting.
"We found something," she said quietly.
Obavva followed her to the outer walls, where Kaashi and Reva knelt over a shattered urn.
Inside: ashes. Mixed with paper fragments. One of the scrolls was half-intact.
It read only three words:
"Eye opens soon."
A crude glyph of the Veil spiraled beside it — a circle split into two, leaking like an eye weeping black tears.
"It was hidden behind Commander Ballal's barracks," Kaashi whispered.
Obavva straightened. "That means—"
"He's the contact for the Old Eye," Reva finished.
Obavva's jaw clenched.
Ballal. The commander of their armies. The one training recruits. The one who planned the fort's outer defenses.
He wasn't just feeding information.
He was building the fall of Chitradurga from within.
Obavva didn't wait.
She burst into Ballal's quarters with Veda and Kaashi flanking her. Ballal stood shirtless, oiling his sword. He looked up — calmly.
"Something urgent?" he asked.
Obavva didn't answer.
She threw the burned scroll at his feet.
He stared at it for a moment. Then smiled.
"So the blade has made you paranoid."
"It made me see," she replied.
Ballal sighed. "I suppose this is where I deny everything."
"No," she said. "This is where you run."
He moved instantly.
The sword slashed in a blur — Obavva blocked with her pestle, the impact jarring her bones. Kaashi dove forward, blades flashing. Ballal twisted, knocking her aside.
Veda threw a dagger.
Ballal caught it — and flung it back.
It nicked Obavva's arm.
But that was enough.
Shaktiraaksh lit up in her hand, sensing blood. The air pulsed around her. The blade sang.
With a roar, Obavva struck.
Their weapons clashed — steel on sorcery. Ballal moved like a demon, too fast for any ordinary man. Glyphs shimmered faintly under his skin — he was bound by oath to the Old Eye.
Obavva feinted, rolled beneath his swing, and slashed up — slicing through his side.
He staggered.
"You can't stop it," he hissed. "The Eye has already opened. Beneath your beloved fort. In the lowest chamber."
"What chamber?" she shouted.
But Ballal only laughed — and threw himself out the window, plunging into the river below.
Gone.
That night, Mallamma summoned the war map.
Obavva pointed to an ancient tunnel marked "Forgotten Root."
"It runs beneath the granaries," she said. "Ballal said the Old Eye was already opened there."
The Queen nodded grimly. "We seal it. We burn it. We salt the earth if we must."
Obavva's hand tightened on the blade.
"No," she said. "We enter it."
Mallamma looked at her.
"And if it's a trap?"
Obavva smiled darkly.
"Then I'll close the Eye myself."
End of Chapter Nine