Rain poured over the kingdom of Vyangadesh, drowning the night in silver streaks.The palace that once gleamed with pride now loomed like a fortress of guilt, its torches dimmed, its echoes haunted by a queen's last cry.
Beyond the marble walls, a lone figure ran through the storm.
Dasi.
Her feet splashed through mud and puddles, her drenched sari clinging to her frame as she cradled the infant prince close. The child whimpered softly, his tiny body trembling against the cold.
"Hush, my little one," she whispered, voice breaking. "We must go. Your mother… your mother wanted you safe."
Lightning flashed, illuminating the narrow path leading into the dense woods beyond the palace fields. Behind her, faint shouts grew louder — soldiers calling, dogs barking, the hunt beginning.
Inside the palace, Lady Damini stood beside the king, her expression painted with false sorrow.
"My lord," she said gently, "the traitor Dasi fled with the child. The guards pursue her."
Raghunath turned toward the balcony, rain splattering across his face. "She was loyal to Vasundhara. She would never harm the boy."
Damini bowed her head, hiding her smile. "Then why run, my king? Why flee in the night if she bears no guilt?"
The king said nothing. But in his silence, doubt returned — heavy and poisonous.
"Find them," he ordered finally. "No trace of the queen's line must remain."
The words echoed like thunder.
Far from the palace, the forest of Nandavana stretched wide and wild — thick with mist, its roots and shadows twisting like serpents.
Dasi stumbled, clutching the child as her breath came ragged. Every step was painful—every gust of wind bit like knives.
Her mind screamed to stop, but Vasundhara's last words burned inside her:"Protect him. When the time comes… tell him everything."
The sound of horses grew nearer. Torches flared in the distance.
"Spread out!" a soldier shouted. "The king's orders — no one leaves this forest alive!"
Dasi's eyes darted wildly, searching for refuge — until she saw it.A narrow rock passage at the edge of a hill, half-hidden by vines.
Without hesitation, she ran for it. Her feet slipped on the wet ground, but she forced herself forward, clutching the baby tighter.
The rain pounded harder. The cries of pursuit grew closer.
Then — a flash of light.
An arrow whistled past her ear, striking the tree beside her. Bark exploded in shards.
She gasped, nearly falling. "No… not now!"
She turned, but the ground beneath her feet gave way.
The slope was steeper than she realized.Her body slid down the muddy hill, tumoring wildly as she tried to shield the child.
At the edge, she struck a rock — and the world spun.
The baby slipped from her grasp.
"No!"
Her scream tore through the night as the infant fell — down, down into a dark cavern below, splashing into the shallow waters of an underground pool.
The torchlight from above barely reached him. The soldiers' voices echoed faintly, their laughter cruel and cold.
"The queen's line ends here," one said. "Both mother and child — gone."
They did not look deeper. They did not see the faint golden shimmer that pulsed once upon the child's neck — the mark of the sun, glowing beneath the surface.
Dasi was dragged from the mud, beaten and bound, her cries ignored.She was taken back to the palace as proof of victory — the "traitor" who had failed to follow the king's command and helped her queen's cursed child.
But in the cave below, life stirred.
The infant floated on the water, his broken arm limp at his side, but his breaths — soft, steady.
Outside, dawn broke through the storm.And somewhere far from the palace, destiny shifted its gaze.
At sunrise, two villagers from the nearby settlement of Bhargava walked along the forest's edge, inspecting the storm's damage.
A man and his wife.
"Do you hear that?" the woman asked suddenly, her eyes widening.
A faint cry — soft, but unmistakable — echoed from the rocks.
When they found the cave, the woman gasped and rushed forward. There, lying amid the wet moss and stone, was the baby — wrapped in fine silk far too rich for any commoner.
The man stared in silence. "Whose child could this be?"
The woman lifted him gently, holding him to her chest."Does it matter?" she whispered, eyes filling with warmth. "He's alive. And from this moment, he is ours."
The baby opened his eyes — dark brown, calm despite the storm.The woman smiled softly.
"We shall name him… Prithvi."