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The Gathering in the Shadows
Midnight cloaked Nandigram in silence, but beneath the city's stone veins life stirred.
Far below the Lotus Plaza, in a forgotten temple cellar where moss crept along cracked idols, a circle of nobles gathered. Oil lamps flickered against their jeweled faces, casting their features in twisted half-light.
At the center stood Lord Janardhan, his serpent banner rolled beneath his arm. His voice dripped with fury.
"The boy humiliated me before the city. The Queen-Mother plays her game, but this Shaurya—he turns every blade, bends every snare. Today, the people cheered his name as if he were already emperor."
Whispers echoed.
"He is dangerous."
"He threatens the old balance."
"He must be removed."
A sharp clatter silenced them: a ring striking the stone altar.
From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in black silk, face veiled, only the glint of cold eyes visible. The conspirators fell silent, bowing their heads.
"The serpent coils not for vanity," the figure said. The voice was neither young nor old, neither man nor woman—sharp as a drawn blade, heavy as iron chains. "Strike too soon, and we bite air. Strike too late, and the prey becomes predator."
"Then when?" Janardhan demanded, though his voice faltered.
The veiled leader leaned closer, eyes glinting like twin embers. "When his heart is bared. Every man has something he will not sacrifice. Find it, and bind him with it. Break it, and he will break himself."
The words slithered into the chamber like venom. The nobles shuddered.
---
The Queen-Mother's Chamber
At that same hour, in the palace's highest spire, the Queen-Mother sat in her private chamber. Silver lamps burned low, their light catching on silken drapes embroidered with the crest of Ashval.
Shaurya stood before her, still in his festival robes. He had not slept, nor had she.
"You played the crowd well today," she said softly, pouring wine into two cups. "Better than I expected."
Shaurya accepted his cup but did not drink. "The people are not blind, Mother. They only needed truth shown to them. Lies cannot rule forever."
A faint smile curved her lips beneath her veil. "Idealism. Dangerous, but… perhaps useful."
He met her gaze evenly. "Truth is not idealism—it is foundation. If you build on lies, the throne rots."
For a moment, the chamber grew still, the faint chirping of crickets echoing through the lattice windows.
"You speak as though you were already on the throne," the Queen-Mother said at last. Her tone was sharp, but not unkind.
Shaurya inclined his head. "I speak as one who will sit there soon."
The Queen-Mother studied him long, then laughed quietly, though it was tinged with steel. "Arrogant boy. But perhaps arrogance is what keeps you alive."
---
The Mirror of Fates
From the corner of the chamber, Princess Rajnandini stirred. She had been silent until now, watching the exchange with hawk-like intensity.
"Mother," she said, her voice low, "the serpent will not stop. Today they failed. Tomorrow they will strike deeper. Perhaps at you. Perhaps at me. Perhaps at him." Her eyes flicked toward Shaurya.
Shaurya turned to her, his tone steady. "Let them strike. I do not fear their fangs."
But Rajnandini's gaze did not soften. "Then you are a fool. Poison does not ask permission before it kills."
The Queen-Mother lifted her cup, regarding the wine's surface. "The serpent seeks his weakness," she murmured. "The question is… what does he hold dearest? Not the throne, for he would sacrifice even that. Not wealth, for he scorns it. Not even his life, for he risks it without hesitation."
Her eyes flicked up to her son's face, sharp as a blade. "So what then, Shaurya? What can break you?"
For the first time that night, Shaurya was silent. His eyes lowered—not in shame, but in thought.
The chamber grew colder, the shadows deeper. Somewhere in the palace, a gong tolled the hour.
---
The Serpent's Whisper in the Wind
Outside, the night wind carried whispers through the palace gardens.
A lone figure moved through the hedges—one of the serpent's spies, slipping silently toward the servants' quarters. In his hand was not a blade, but a scroll sealed with black wax.
On it, a single command, scrawled in crimson ink:
"Find the boy's heart."
The serpent's coil had begun to tighten.
To be continued....