The royal court of Vajratva was a hall of mirrors.
Polished bronze walls reflected every crown, every serpent sigil, every jeweled dagger at the nobles' waists. Torches burned with violet flame, their smoke curling upward like fangs. And in the center of it all, on a throne carved of black jade, sat Queen Padmashri, radiant as dusk — venom hidden in beauty, silence hidden in her smile.
Before her, the nobles gathered. Dukes and ministers, generals and seers, merchants fat with tribute — each wearing their own mask of loyalty. Each waiting to see which mask Lakshya would wear.
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The Queen's Summons
"Lakshya," Padmashri's voice flowed like honey stirred with steel. "You challenged my circle at the feast. You spoke silence into my coils. And yet — you stand here still. Why?"
Lakshya bowed, but not too deep. His voice was calm, his eyes steady.
"Because silence is not rebellion, Majesty. Silence is truth. Even a crown cannot deny what silence reveals."
A murmur spread through the court. Some frowned, others smirked. The queen's eyes, however, gleamed sharper.
"Then let silence prove itself," she said. She raised her hand, and servants brought forward a silver mask, shaped like a serpent devouring its own tail.
"This," Padmashri said, "is the Mask of Crowns. To wear it is to swear fealty. To refuse is to defy. Tell us, Lakshya — will your silence wear crown, or will it stand bare?"
The hall hushed.
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Lakshya's Choice
He took the mask in his hands. Cold silver. Heavy. Every eye upon him.
If he wore it, he would bow to the queen's circle. If he refused, he would stand marked as enemy.
But silence, he remembered, was neither yes nor no. Silence was space between.
He lifted the mask, then slowly placed it not upon his face, but upon his chest — over his heart.
"I wear no crown upon my face," he said, his voice low but clear. "For faces lie. But if a mask is to bind me, let it bind my heart. And let my heart answer only to truth."
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The Court Divided
Gasps rippled. Some nobles scoffed, calling him arrogant. Others murmured approval, whispering of a man who bent without breaking.
The Ashen Envoy smirked. The scholars of Sharada exchanged meaningful glances. Even a few ministers of Padmashri's court looked thoughtful, as if silence had touched their ears too.
But the queen's eyes sharpened. Her smile remained, yet tension coiled in her stillness.
"Clever words," she said softly. "But words are wind. Let deeds crown or cut you."
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The Queen's Test
She raised her hand again, and guards dragged forward a prisoner — chained, bruised, yet unbowed. A man of the Crimson Dunes, his cloak torn, his eyes still burning with desert fire.
"This one refused tribute," Padmashri said, her tone velvet over steel. "He claims freedom. He claims no serpent coils him. If you wear the Mask of Crowns upon your heart, Lakshya… strike him down, and show the Circle your silence is loyal."
The court stilled. The prisoner met Lakshya's gaze — not pleading, but defiant, daring him.
Lakshya's hand tightened. The weight of every eye, every whisper, pressed upon him.
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The Silent Strike
He stepped forward, his palm glowing faintly with the mark. The guards sneered, expecting blood. The nobles leaned closer, eager for spectacle.
But when Lakshya raised his hand — silence fell heavier than stone.
No sword. No wound. No cry.
Instead, the chains binding the prisoner cracked, splintered, and shattered into dust.
The man stumbled, staring at Lakshya. The court erupted — shock, anger, awe.
Padmashri's smile froze for a fraction of a breath. Then, smoothly, she clapped her hands once, the sound sharp as a whip.
"Interesting," she murmured. "You strike, yet do not strike. You cut, yet do not kill. Very well, Lakshya. Keep your silence. For now."
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Closing Shadows
The nobles dispersed in a storm of whispers. Some called him dangerous. Others called him blessed. The prisoner vanished into the shadows of allies.
And Padmashri sat upon her throne, her gaze upon Lakshya like a serpent's tongue tasting the air.
"Play your mask, boy," she thought. "But every mask cracks. And when it does — I will see what silence hides."
Lakshya bowed faintly and left the hall, his steps quiet. His mask remained intact — but cracks had already begun forming in the queen's circle.
To be continued....