Inside the Dominion Palace, under ceilings dripping with gold and chandeliers made from psionic crystals, the younger prince lounged in the velvet shadows of his royal chambers.
The room was grand — larger than any home most citizens could dream of — but cold, sterile. No balcony here, only wide, arching windows sealed shut with thick panes of shimmering glass. Outside, the neon skyline of the floating city pulsed like a heartbeat.
The prince sat slouched in a high-backed chair near one window, a goblet of dark red wine clutched loosely in one hand.
The only light came from a dying fireplace, its embers painting the room in sickly shades of orange.
He swirled the drink lazily, a cruel smirk tugging at his mouth.
His mind was not on the wine.
It was on her.
His sister.
And the rats she had dared to protect.
He snapped his fingers, summoning two of his trusted royal knights — towering figures clad in black armor, eyes hidden behind polished visors.
"I want the three rats caught," he drawled, his voice thick with amusement.
"And this time... bring them to me alive."
The knights bowed in perfect synchronization.
"I want them kneeling," the prince whispered, savoring the words.
"I want them broken. And I want her to watch."
He tossed the wine back in one savage gulp, the liquid staining his lips like blood, and waved them away.
The knights turned without a word, disappearing into the corridors like death made flesh.
The prince leaned back, smiling to himself as the shadows swallowed him whole.
In another wing of the sprawling palace, the Princess sat curled on the floor of her bright, airy chambers.
Unlike her brother's brooding lair, her room opened onto a grand balcony overlooking the city. The night wind tugged at the delicate curtains, carrying with it the scent of faraway flowers — but none of it reached her.
Adhivita huddled in the shadows cast by one of the towering pillars, arms wrapped around her knees.
Her royal dress — deep sapphire silk embroidered with gold filigree — pooled around her like a fallen star.
But she felt no royalty now.
Only the crushing weight of betrayal, guilt, and helplessness.
Tears clung to her lashes, but she refused to let them fall.
Not yet.
A soft knock broke the silence.
Before she could answer, the door opened, and a figure stepped inside.
Dr. Agastya Ved Rao — the Dominion's ancient scientific mind and her secret guardian.
He was old, well into his sixties, with long silver hair braided neatly, and a beard that cascaded down his chest like a river of time. His simple grey robes whispered against the floor as he entered, and his sharp, knowing eyes seemed to miss nothing.
"My child," he rumbled, his voice a low, comforting storm, "why do you cry in a world built for your triumph?"
Adhivita wiped her face quickly and sat up straighter.
"I don't... it's nothing," she muttered.
Agastya chuckled; the sound dry but full of affection.
"You forget, I have watched over you since your first breath. You cannot hide sadness from old eyes."
She hesitated, then spoke, her words barely above a whisper.
"I met people, Agastya. They were... different. Kind. Brave. And they..."
She faltered.
"They spoke of a time... before this one."
Agastya's brows furrowed, and his sharp gaze sharpened even further.
"Before this world?" he asked carefully.
She nodded, choosing her next words with painful caution.
"Is it possible," she whispered, "that people from... the past could somehow find their way here?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Then Agastya stood slowly, the weight of years seeming heavier on his shoulders.
"Time," he said quietly, "is not as rigid as the Dominion claims."
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, his cane tapping urgently against the marble floor.
Adhivita watched him go, heart hammering in her chest, a new and terrible hope flickering to life inside her.
Far away, across the neon-lit veins of the floating city, Shivam, Aanchal, and Dikshant huddled inside the cramped shelter offered by Raghu and Janvi.
The air was thick with tension. "You told her everything!" Aanchal snapped; voice low but furious. "You trusted her with our lives!" Dikshant paced the room like a caged animal. "We're screwed," he muttered. "Dead men walking."
I swallowed hard, guilt clawing up my throat. "I know," I said quietly. "I know I messed up. But listen—she's not like them. She saved us." "And what if she can't anymore?" Aanchal said sharply. "Or worse—what if she won't?" The silence after her words was deafening.
"I'm sorry," I said finally, every word scraping against my pride.
"I trusted her. Maybe that was stupid. But if we waste time blaming each other, we'll die faster." I looked between them, pleading for trust. "We have to move. Find Aman, Naina. If they're alive, we meet up. If not... I forced the words out. "...then we go to Rathod's group in Mayapuri. It's the only way we stay alive."
For a long, heavy moment, no one spoke. Then Aanchal exhaled sharply and nodded once. Dikshant followed, reluctant but loyal.
Survive first. Feel later. High above, under the flickering stars of the artificial sky, two dark shapes moved. The royal knights — bloodhounds unleashed by their master — leapt from rooftop to rooftop, silent as specters. One paused atop a crumbling tower, crouched low. Below, in the maze of battered streets, a glimmer of movement. A heartbeat. A breath. The knights had found their prey. And the hunt had truly begun.