Morning light entered the Matriarch's resting chamber in soft golden lines, touching the carved walls, the silk curtains, and the quiet tension that had become permanent within the room.
Peace existed only on the surface.
Beneath it—
everything was war.
Aarya Shreysth sat against the headrest of her bed, dressed in light silver robes instead of her usual ceremonial attire. Even in weakness, there was an elegance around her that made people instinctively lower their voices near her.
She was not the kind of beauty that demanded attention.
She was the kind that commanded it.
Her features were sharp yet gentle, her long dark hair flowing loosely over her shoulders like a quiet river at night. Her face still carried traces of weakness from months of poison and the curse that had nearly claimed her life, but her eyes—
those eyes—
remained unchanged.
Calm.
Observant.
They were the eyes of a woman who had survived politics long before she ever sat on a throne.
Before becoming Matriarch of the Shreysth Clan, before marriage, before war and blood and betrayal, Aarya had once been known across allied clans for something else entirely.
She was a genius of Sanskrit Rune Engraving.
A rank six observer.
A woman capable of seeing patterns where others saw chaos.
Runes were not merely symbols.
They were laws carved into reality.
Power shaped through language.
Control through understanding.
And observation—
true observation—
was often more terrifying than strength itself.
Though the poison had crippled her body and severed her connection to active energy manipulation, it had not taken away her mind.
And certainly not her perception.
That was why Rudra trusted only one person completely in this castle.
Her.
Beside her, wrapped in fine cloth and resting against embroidered cushions, Rudra lay silently in her arms.
His infant body looked harmless.
Soft.
Fragile.
Small.
But behind those dark eyes—
storms.
This morning, those storms were watching the door.
Because he knew who was coming.
And soon—
the old priest arrived.
The same priest.
The same voice.
The same presence.
The same snake hiding behind holy robes.
The room seemed colder the moment he entered.
He walked slowly, carrying the false humility of someone who had spent years perfecting harmlessness as a weapon.
His white robes were clean, his posture respectful, his old face lined with age and practiced kindness.
To anyone else—
he looked trustworthy.
To Rudra—
he smelled like death.
The priest bowed.
"My Matriarch."
Aarya gave a small nod.
"Proceed."
He stepped forward and sat beside the bed.
The regular check-up began.
His fingers moved across Aarya's wrist, checking pulse through the nerves.
Then temperature.
Then heartbeat.
Then breathing.
Every motion slow.
Careful.
Professional.
But as his hand lingered longer than necessary—
Rudra watched.
Closely.
And he noticed it.
A flicker.
A slight tension in the priest's fingers.
A nervousness.
Because Aarya looked healthier.
Not fully recovered.
But healthier.
The poison was no longer devouring her from within.
He perceived the curse to be dormant.
Her face had regained color.
Her heartbeat was stronger.
And for a man who had expected her to decline—
this was a problem.
A serious one.
The priest hid it quickly.
But Rudra saw.
And when predators noticed other predators noticing—
the hunt began.
After examining her further, the priest reached into his satchel and pulled out a sealed medicinal vessel filled with dark herbal concoction.
He handed it to Neha.
His smile was smooth.
"This should continue helping the Matriarch's recovery. It will regulate the blood, strengthen the organs, and improve overall vitality."
His tone carried confidence.
Like medicine.
Like care.
Like lies.
"Make sure she takes it every day."
Neha accepted it respectfully.
"Yes, Priest."
Aarya gave a tired but polite nod.
"Thank you."
Rudra stared at the vessel like it was a blade pressed against his mother's throat.
Because it was.
His tiny fists tightened.
If not for this useless infant body, he would have slit this old bastard's throat himself.
But that was the cruelty of helplessness.
A mind full of war trapped inside hands too small to even hold a knife.
He could only stare.
And sometimes—
staring was enough.
Because the priest turned.
His eyes landed on Rudra.
And he smiled.
It was warm.
Kind.
Disgusting.
"The young master seems healthy today."
He looked at Aarya.
"With your permission, my Matriarch, I would also like to examine him."
Rudra's entire being sharpened.
No.
Aarya, still trusting him fully, smiled faintly.
"Of course."
And just like that—
the enemy was invited closer.
The priest moved toward Rudra.
Aarya gently handed him over.
The moment those hands touched him, Rudra felt it.
Cold.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
Like being held by something pretending to be human.
The priest began checking him the same way.
Pulse.
Breathing.
Bones.
Temperature.
Outwardly normal.
But then—
it came.
A slow stream of energy entered Rudra's body.
Healing energy.
At least that was how it appeared.
A soft white glow moving through his meridians like warm light.
To an ordinary people, it would seem harmless.
Benevolent, even.
But Rudra was not ordinary.
The moment it entered him, alarm bells rang inside his soul.
He concentrated.
Watched deeper.
And there—
hidden inside the white glow—
dark green spots.
Tiny.
Venomous.
Like mold growing inside milk.
Corruption disguised as healing.
His eyes turned cold.
So that was it.
Not just poison.
Not just medicine.
Energy poisoning.
Subtle enough to avoid suspicion.
Slow enough to kill naturally.
Elegant.
Cruel.
Effective.
This priest was more dangerous than he appeared.
Immediately, Rudra circulated the tiny amount of Karma-Shakti he had painstakingly gathered.
It was weak.
Barely enough to matter.
But enough to hide what needed hiding.
He moved it quickly toward his Muladhara Chakra.
Toward the sealed poison bead.
Toward the curse.
Especially the curse.
Because if this priest discovered that the curse originally placed on Aarya had been transferred into Rudra's body—
everything would explode.
They would suspect interference.
They would suspect awareness.
And most importantly—
they would move openly against Aarya.
That could not happen.
Not yet.
Not until Rudra knew who was behind all this.
Not until he knew how many snakes lived in this nest.
He covered the curse bead carefully.
Layer by layer.
Silently.
His infant face remained calm.
But inside—
he was fighting a war.
And rage burned beneath it.
Because he still knew nothing.
Who ordered it?
Why?
Devraj?
His wife?
Someone else?
The priest was only a tool.
A knife.
But whose hand held it?
That answer mattered.
And here he was—
reborn with memories of gods—
yet unable to ask a single question.
Unable to speak.
Unable to accuse.
Unable to protect.
Chained by infancy.
It was humiliating.
Infuriating.
But anger without patience was just stupidity.
So Rudra endured.
Wait.
Watch.
Remember.
Strike later.
That would be enough.
But first—
he had to stop his mother from taking that medicine.
Suddenly—
the priest's probing energy moved lower.
Toward Rudra's stomach.
Toward the poison.
And then—
he felt it.
The priest froze.
For the smallest moment—
his heartbeat changed.
Because he had sensed it.
The poison.
The same poison that should have remained inside Aarya…
was also inside the child.
His mind raced.
Then—
inside his old eyes—
ecstatic greed.
Like a gambler who had accidentally discovered two treasures buried under one stone.
He understood only half the truth.
But even half was enough.
If both mother and child were poisoned—
then fate itself was helping him.
Two birds.
One stone.
No heir.
No Matriarch.
Perfect.
And in that exact moment—
Rudra made his move.
Enough waiting.
Enough silence.
If he could not speak—
he would create evidence.
He gathered every strand of Karma-Shakti he had.
Every painful drop.
And forced it violently toward his heart.
Not gently.
Not safely.
Violently.
The energy ruptured through delicate infant pathways like fire through paper.
Pain exploded.
Sharp.
Blinding.
Real.
Small arteries tore.
His body convulsed.
Even for someone who had crossed Vaitarani and faced divine judgment—
pain was still pain.
But necessary pain was never wasted.
Suddenly—
Rudra coughed.
Blood.
Bright red against white cloth.
Then came the crying.
Loud.
Raw.
Agonized.
Not fake.
Not acting.
Because this pain was real.
His infant body screamed with it.
The room froze.
Aarya's face changed instantly.
"RUDRA!"
She snatched him from the priest's hands with terrifying speed for someone supposedly weak.
Her protective instinct overpowered everything else.
The priest stood there—
bewildered.
Because this was not supposed to happen.
As the connection between his probing energy and Rudra's body broke violently, a portion of his own energy leaked into the atmosphere.
Tiny.
But visible.
And Aarya saw it.
Her eyes narrowed.
Not as a mother.
As an observer.
Before the poison.
Before the curse.
Before weakness.
She had once read energy patterns like others read books.
And even now—
that instinct remained.
She held Rudra tightly, checking his mouth stained with blood.
Her voice turned cold.
Ice over steel.
"What were you doing?"
The priest straightened.
Controlled.
Smooth.
"I was merely examining the young master, my Matriarch. Nothing more."
Aarya's gaze did not leave him.
"You used energy."
"A routine healing probe."
"Without informing me?"
A pause.
Small.
But enough.
The priest bowed slightly.
"My apologies. I meant no offense."
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Aarya had no proof.
No undeniable evidence.
Only instinct.
Only perception.
Only a mother's fear.
And in politics—
accusing without proof was weakness.
But suspicion…
suspicion was enough.
Rudra, still crying, buried himself into her chest and clung tightly.
Like a frightened child.
Like pain.
Like innocence.
But behind closed eyelids—
he was calm.
The seed had been planted.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Perfectly.
Suspicion was like poison.
It did not need much.
Only time.
Aarya finally spoke.
"You may leave."
No warmth.
No gratitude.
Only dismissal.
The priest bowed again.
But for the first time—
there was tension in his steps as he left.
Good.
Let him feel watched.
Let him wonder.
Let fear begin.
The moment he disappeared, Aarya turned to Neha.
"Bring the medicines from Fifth Sister immediately."
Neha moved without question.
"Yes, My Lady."
Aarya sat on the bed, holding Rudra, gently feeding him the medicinal supplements given earlier by her fifth sister-in-law.
The healing ointments.
The trusted ones.
She stroked his hair softly, whispering comforts while another priest was urgently called for examination.
This time—
one she trusted.
Rudra let himself rest.
His body was exhausted.
The forced injury had worked.
But it had cost him.
Pain lingered through every tiny vein.
Still—
worth it.
Always worth it.
Because now his mother would start looking.
And once Aarya Shreysth started observing—
Even the lies speak of truth.
By evening, after treatment and rest, Rudra finally woke.
The second priest had declared it a temporary internal disturbance, nothing fatal.
Convenient.
Safe.
Unclear enough to avoid panic.
Exactly what was needed.
The room was quieter now.
Sunset painted the walls amber.
After dinner, Neha entered carrying the medicinal concoction the old priest had left earlier.
The same dark vessel.
The same poison wearing the face of medicine.
She approached respectfully.
"My Lady, your evening medicine."
Aarya reached for it.
And Rudra saw.
No.
Absolutely not.
The moment her fingers touched the vessel—
he moved.
Frantically.
Wildly.
Not like a calm child.
Like terror.
He pushed himself forward with desperate strength, small hands hitting the cup, body twisting as if terrified of it.
The vessel slipped.
Fell.
Shattered.
Dark liquid spilled across the floor like exposed truth.
The room froze.
Rudra cried again, panicked, clutching Aarya's robes like the medicine itself was a monster.
Because to him—
it was.
Aarya looked down.
First at him.
Then at the shattered contents.
Then at the stain spreading across the floor.
Her expression slowly changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Because mothers noticed patterns.
And this—
this was no coincidence.
She had never seen Rudra cry like this before.
Never.
Not during storms.
Not during ceremonies.
Not even during pain.
But twice today—
both connected to that priest.
Her voice became strict.
"Neha."
The maid appeared instantly.
"Yes, My Lady."
Aarya's eyes remained on the spilled medicine.
"Something is very wrong."
Her voice was quiet.
Which made it more dangerous.
"I have never seen Rudra react like this before."
She looked toward the doorway where the priest had left hours ago.
"And his actions today were suspicious."
Neha's face hardened.
She too had noticed.
Aarya continued.
"Take the contents of this medicinal concoction to Fifth Sister-in-law."
Her voice sharpened.
"Tell her to investigate every ingredient. Every trace."
No assumptions.
Only proof.
Because once proof arrived—
mercy would leave.
Then, after a long silence, Aarya spoke something that made even Rudra go still.
"I think…"
Her fingers tightened slightly around him.
"…my condition started getting worse during the second month of pregnancy."
Her eyes were distant now.
Reconstructing memory.
"The old priest who treated me for years died suddenly months before."
She looked at Neha.
"And shortly after that…"
"This priest began visiting."
The room fell silent.
Because once spoken aloud—
truth became harder to ignore.
Neha lowered her head.
"I understand."
She took the remains carefully.
And left.
Aarya sat there holding Rudra close.
Neither spoke.
But both understood.
This was no longer illness.
This was attempted murder.
And now—
the hunt had begun.
Rudra rested against her heartbeat, listening.
Steady.
Alive.
Safe.
For now.
His small fingers tightened around her robes.
Good.
Very good.
The board had moved.
The first piece had fallen.
And it is only the beganing.
I have to drag them out of the shadows.
As the fear of unknown is far more dangerous than-
What's in front of us.
To be continued…