The study felt smaller than usual.
Grandfather closed the door with a quiet click, and the sound echoed through the heavy wooden room like a final warning.
The lock slid into place.
The room itself was old—older than the rest of the house. Dark wooden shelves stretched across every wall, filled with books whose spines had faded with time. Some looked centuries old, their leather cracked and worn.
A faint smell of aged paper and polished wood lingered in the air.
Sunlight pushed through the narrow gaps in the heavy velvet curtains, casting thin golden lines across the room. Dust floated lazily in the beams of light, drifting like tiny ghosts in the quiet air.
Outside the door, Aaradhya could faintly hear Arnav's voice.
"Why did he take her alone?" he demanded, clearly irritated.
Kiara replied, her voice calmer.
"Maybe it's something personal. Just wait."
"That doesn't make sense," Arnav argued again. "We were all there."
Kiran's quieter voice joined them.
"You didn't see his face?" he said. "Something serious is happening."
Their voices faded as they moved further down the hallway, though the tension in their words lingered in Aaradhya's mind.
Inside the study, the silence felt thick.
Almost suffocating.
Grandfather stood behind the large wooden desk in the centre of the room, his hands resting firmly on its surface as if he needed the support.
Aaradhya had never seen him like this before.
Serious.
Grave.
Almost afraid.
His eyes were darker than usual, clouded with something she couldn't quite understand.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then finally, Grandfather inhaled slowly.
"Aaradhya," he said, his voice quiet but heavy, "what I am about to tell you has been hidden from the world for nearly nine hundred years."
Her heart skipped.
Nine hundred years?
She blinked in confusion.
"What do you mean?" she asked slowly.
Grandfather didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked toward the tall bookshelf that covered nearly the entire wall behind him.
Aaradhya watched him carefully.
His movements were slower than usual.
Deliberate.
Almost hesitant.
His fingers slid across the spines of several old books before stopping near the middle of the shelf.
He pulled one out.
Dust rose into the air as the heavy book left its place, drifting through the narrow beams of sunlight.
Grandfather carried it to the desk and placed it down carefully.
The sound echoed softly through the quiet room.
Aaradhya stepped closer.
The book looked ancient.
Its leather cover was cracked with age, and strange symbols were carved deeply into the surface. The symbols didn't resemble any language she recognized.
They twisted and curved like flames dancing across water.
"What is that?" she asked softly.
Grandfather ran his fingers slowly across the carved symbols.
For a brief moment, something strange flickered in his eyes.
"This," he said quietly, "is the Royal Chronicle of the Rawat Bloodline."
The name struck something deep inside Aaradhya.
A faint tremor ran through her chest.
"Rawat…?" she repeated slowly.
Grandfather nodded.
Without another word, he opened the book.
The pages inside were yellowed with age, fragile enough that they seemed like they might crumble if touched too roughly. Yet the ink on them was still dark and sharp, untouched by time.
The first page held a drawing.
A breathtakingly painting of a kingdom hidden between towering mountains.
Massive stone walls surrounded a palace built of white marble and golden domes. Rivers flowed through the valleys, reflecting the sunlight like molten silver.
At the bottom of the page, written in elegant script, were two words.
"Aryavika Rawat."
Grandfather looked up.
"Long ago," he began, "there was a kingdom hidden beyond these mountains. A kingdom ruled by the Rawat bloodline."
His voice lowered slightly.
"The strongest bloodline the world had ever known."
Aaradhya frowned.
"Why haven't I ever heard of it?" she asked.
Grandfather's lips curved into a faint, sad smile.
"Because the world believes that kingdom never existed, as if it were just a story or fantasy."
He turned the page slowly.
The next illustration revealed a young woman standing on a palace balcony.
She wore flowing royal garments that shimmered like sunlight on water.
But it was her face that made Aaradhya freeze.
Dark green eyes.
Long black hair flowing down her back.
And near her cheek....
A small mole.
Aaradhya instinctively lifted her hand toward her own face.
Her fingers touched the same spot.
The same mark.
Her breath caught.
The resemblance was impossible to ignore.
Grandfather watched her reaction carefully but said nothing.
Instead, he turned another page.
"The Rawat bloodline ruled for centuries," he continued. "Their rulers were known not only for their wisdom… but also for their power."
"Power?" Aaradhya repeated.
Grandfather nodded slowly.
"The ability to command the elements."
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
"Earth, water, fire, air, and spirit," he said.
"The rulers of the Rawat bloodline possessed a rare balance. They could command any of these elements without losing control."
He pointed toward the next illustration.
It showed the royal emblem.
Five swirling symbols intertwined together:
Flames of fire,
Veins of trees and large chunks of soil representing earth,
A flowing wave representing water,
A gust of wind representing air,
And faint glowing shapes representing spirits.
"They protected the kingdom for generations," Grandfather continued. "Fire defended it. Water sustained it. Air supported them. Earth protected them from attacks and disasters, while the spirits guided them in ways no human could understand."
"But power like that," he added quietly, "never goes unnoticed."
Aaradhya listened carefully, her eyes fixed on the pages.
Yet something strange was beginning to happen.
The silver pendant resting against her chest felt… warm.
At first, she thought it was just her imagination.
But the warmth slowly spread across her skin.
Almost like the pendant was responding to the story.
She shifted slightly, trying to ignore it.
Then she heard it.
A faint whisper.
So soft she couldn't even understand the words.
Her head turned instinctively.
But the study was silent.
Only the quiet rustle of turning pages filled the air.
Grandfather turned another page.
"But as the years passed," he continued, "the Rawat bloodline began to weaken."
"The royal family stopped having children."
"One generation… then another."
"The palace halls grew quieter."
"The throne grew lonelier."
Aaradhya felt an unexpected sadness tightening in her chest.
"Until finally," Grandfather said softly, "there were only two left."
"The king."
"And the queen."
He turned another page.
The next illustration was darker.
It showed a ritual circle drawn into the ground near a riverbank.
Torches burned around it.
Flames rose from a wooden altar.
"This," Grandfather said quietly, "was when everything changed."
Aaradhya leaned slightly closer.
Grandfather's voice became slower.
Careful.
"As the years passed without a child, whispers began to spread across the kingdom."
"Some said the bloodline was cursed."
"Others believed the gods had abandoned them."
"But the truth," he said softly, "was far darker."
Aaradhya looked up.
"What happened?"
Grandfather's gaze drifted toward the window.
For a moment, he seemed lost in memory.
"There was another kingdom," he said slowly.
"A rival."
"But their name has long been erased from history."
Aaradhya frowned.
"Why?"
Grandfather's expression hardened.
"Because what they did was unforgivable."
He closed the book halfway.
"Their rulers practiced forbidden rituals."
"Dark rituals."
"They envied the power of the Rawat bloodline."
"And they wanted it gone."
A chill filled the room.
"They performed a ritual so ancient… so twisted… that even the witches feared it."
Aaradhya swallowed slowly.
"What did it do?"
Grandfather's voice dropped to a whisper.
"The curse did not kill the king and queen."
"It did something far crueller."
His eyes met hers.
"It erased their future."
Aaradhya felt her chest tighten.
"No children," she murmured.
Grandfather nodded.
"The bloodline was meant to end with them."
Silence filled the study.
For a moment, Aaradhya imagined the lonely palace.
The empty halls.
The queen waiting year after year for a child that would never come.
A sudden ache filled her chest.
Strangely deep.
Strangely personal.
Her fingers curled tightly around the pendant resting against her heart.
The metal had grown even warmer now.
Almost hot.
But she ignored it.
Instead, she looked back at the ancient book.
"And then?" she asked quietly.
Grandfather turned the next page.
His voice grew even more serious.
"That," he said slowly, "was when the king and queen sought help from a witch."
Her fingers tightened around the pendant.
The metal suddenly felt hotter, and she made a small sound that caught Grandfather's attention.
"Aaradhya?"
Grandfather's voice sounded tense now.
But before she could answer.....
the pendant burned.
A sharp light burst from it.
The room filled with heat.
And for a split second…
Aaradhya saw something.
Not the study.
Not the present.
But a palace surrounded by flames.
And a girl standing in the fire.
A girl with dark green eyes.
She was mourning near a buck, silently touching the buck who lay motionless beside her.
Amidst the chaos, her eyes were full of pain, heartbreak, and betrayal.
But when the girl looked up, the pain and heartbreak were gone.
Instead, she carried them as power.
Using that pain, she was seething with the desire for revenge.
Her body slowly began to burn like a volcano that had been silent for too long—and was now ready to erupt.
But before Aaradhya could see any further, the vision ended.
The pendant's light faded slowly.
But Aaradhya knew one thing with terrifying certainty.
That girl in the flames…
"was her".
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