: The Crimson Echo
The moment Devansh collapsed, the world for Aaditya narrowed to a single, terrifying point. The roaring cheers of the healed citizens, the palpable wave of relief washing over Suryapuri—it all dissolved into a meaningless, distant hum. His entire being focused on the sight of Devansh's body, unnervingly still, the celestial veena Vani held fast in his arms even in unconsciousness.
"DEVANSH!"
The name was torn from Aaditya's throat, raw with a fear that eclipsed all else. He was at his side in a heartbeat, his powerful frame cutting through the stunned crowd. He didn't shout for guards. With a primal urgency, his arms slid beneath Devansh's shoulders and knees, lifting him with a fierce, protective gentleness. He cradled the veena against Devansh's chest, the instrument an inseparable part of the man he held.
"Fetch the physician! NOW!" he roared, his voice a crack of thunder that shattered the celebratory atmosphere and sent servants sprinting in all directions.
His frantic gaze swept the courtyard and locked with his brother's. Virendra stood frozen a short distance away, his own face a canvas of shock that quickly morphed into deep, understanding concern. In that single, charged glance, a silent conversation passed between them. Virendra saw the absolute, unvarnished terror in Aaditya's eyes, the primal need to be the sole protector in this crisis. He gave a slow, deliberate nod. He would manage the kingdom, the crowds, the aftermath. This burden was Aaditya's to carry.
Without another second's hesitation, Aaditya turned and strode towards the palace, Devansh held securely against his chest. His long, determined strides ate up the corridor to the royal chambers. He laid Devansh down upon the soft silks of his own bed with an aching tenderness, brushing a stray lock of hair from the pale, still forehead. His own fingers trembled, a cold knot of dread tightening in his stomach.
By the time the elderly Vaidya Ved arrived, breathless and clutching his satchel of remedies, Aaditya was a caged predator pacing at the foot of the bed.
The physician worked with practiced efficiency, checking Devansh's pulse, his breathing, peering into his eyes. Aaditya watched every movement, his own breath held captive in his lungs. Finally, Ved straightened, a calm, reassuring smile gracing his aged features.
"Prince Aaditya, you must be at peace. It is nothing serious," the physician said, his voice a soothing balm. "This is the body's natural reaction. You witnessed what he did. He channeled a raga that purified the very lifeblood of an entire city. The flow of such potent spiritual energy is a heavy burden for any physical form. This unconsciousness… it is the body's way of demanding rest. He is in a deep, restorative sleep. He will not wake until his life force has fully replenished."
Aaditya released a shuddering breath, some of the unbearable tension draining from his shoulders. He collapsed into the chair beside the bed, his gaze fixed on Devansh's face. "Just… just exhaustion? You are certain?"
"Yes, Yuvaraj. Certain."
Just then, Devansh stirred. A soft moan escaped his lips as his eyelids fluttered open. His hand, moving by pure instinct, tightened around the neck of Vani, which lay beside him. As his fingers made contact, the veena responded with its familiar, gentle, cerulean blue luminescence, a soft hum resonating in the quiet room.
Aaditya leaned forward, hope illuminating his features. "Dev?"
But as Devansh's consciousness fully surfaced, something shifted. The serene blue glow of Vani flickered, stuttered like a guttering candle, and for two heart-stopping seconds, it was violently replaced by a deep, pulsating, blood-red aura. This light was not warm or healing; it was sharp, aggressive, and menacing. It vanished as abruptly as it appeared, the veena returning to its calm, azure state.
Aaditya froze, his breath catching in his throat. What was that? His mind raced. He had only ever seen Vani emit healing, silvery-blue or golden light. That red… it was wrong. It felt alien. Dangerous.
"Adi?" Devansh's voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes struggling to focus. "Where… where am I?"
Aaditya forcibly shoved his shock aside, his concern for Devansh overriding everything. He was at his side instantly, his hand finding Devansh's. "You're in Suryapuri. In my chambers. Are you alright? Are you in any pain?"
Devansh slowly pushed himself up, accepting the glass of water Aaditya offered. But the movement was different. It lacked his characteristic fluid grace. It was sharper, almost abrupt. He took the glass, his grip noticeably tighter than necessary.
"No, no pain," he said, but his voice carried a new, unfamiliar edge. "Just… a strange warmth. A feeling of… immense power." His gaze drifted towards Vani, and a strange, possessive light flickered in the depths of his blue eyes before he quickly looked away.
From the doorway, Virendra observed the entire exchange. He saw the intense, almost frantic devotion in Aaditya's every gesture. He saw the way Aaditya's eyes remained locked on Devansh, missing no detail. And he saw the subtle, unsettling changes in Devansh himself—the restless tapping of his fingers on the silk sheets, the absence of his usual serene smile, the new, unnerving intensity in his demeanor. Virendra remained silent, but his protective instincts for both his brother and his friend were now fully, acutely engaged.
Later, as Devansh insisted on standing, his foot caught on the leg of a small side table. He stumbled, and Vani, which he was holding, swung forward and struck the hard marble edge with a jarring impact.
TWANG!
This time, the red flash was not a mere flicker. It was a violent, crimson pulse that erupted from the veena, illuminating the dim room for a full three seconds. It was accompanied by a discordant, grating sound that was the absolute antithesis of Devansh's divine music. A wave of dry, prickling heat washed over Aaditya.
Devansh himself gasped, his body jolting as if struck by a minor current. A look of raw, unfiltered power—and something disturbingly close to pleasure—flashed across his face before he could control his expression. He quickly wrapped Vani in a nearby silk cloth, shrouding it from view. "It's nothing… I just stumbled," he muttered, deliberately avoiding Aaditya's searching gaze.
Aaditya stood rooted to the spot, the image of that angry, bloody light seared into his vision. He said nothing, not wanting to alarm Devansh further, but his mind was a whirlwind of alarm.
That red light… this new, sharp, dangerous energy…
That night, long after a restless Devansh had fallen into a fitful sleep, Aaditya maintained his vigil by the bedside. The moonlight painted long, skeletal shadows across the room, highlighting the troubled lines on Devansh's sleeping face. The silken shroud covering Vani seemed to mock him, hiding a secret he desperately needed to understand.
This crimson glow… this new, sharp, dangerous sensation… Aaditya's thoughts churned. Has some stain from Mayapuri seeped into him? Did the Masked Man… leave a part of himself behind?
He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Devansh's forehead. The touch was filled with a love so profound it was a physical ache. But beneath it, a new, chilling fear had taken root, cold and sharp as a shard of ice.
In this change that is happening… where is my Devansh? he wondered, his heart clenching with a terrible, premonitory dread. And I fear… that our real war… may not have even begun.