The Night the Stars Stood Still

The skies above Indrakalpa were not calm that night.

Thunder rolled like angry drums. Clouds thick and heavy covered every star in the sky. Lightning flashed again and again, turning night into silver for a second, then back into darkness.

People said the wind spoke that night. It howled like an old spirit wandering the palace walls, knocking gently on doors and windows. Servants whispered prayers under their breath. Palace guards stood tighter than usual, holding their spears close, though they didn’t know what they were afraid of.

But something was different. Everyone could feel it.

Inside the queen’s chamber, the air was hot and full of tension. The smell of burning sandalwood, sweat, and oil lamps mixed with the sharp cry of pain.

“Hold on, Maharani!” the midwife called out, wiping sweat from the queen’s forehead. “You must stay strong.”

Queen Vanshika lay on a bed of soft silk, her face pale, lips trembling as another wave of pain crushed her. Her fingernails dug into the wooden bedpost. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, but she made no sound.

The royal physician looked nervous. He turned to the midwife. “Too much blood,” he whispered. “The birth is not going well.”

Queen Vanshika heard them. Her heart sank. She looked up at the ceiling painted with golden lotuses and whispered, “Let her live… please, just let her live…”

Across the palace in a prayer hall lit with a thousand lamps, three young princes knelt with folded hands.

The eldest, Pradyumna, only thirteen but already showing signs of leadership, closed his eyes and prayed out loud.

“Devi Maa, please protect our mother… Please let our little sister come to this world safely…”

Beside him sat Vivaan, aged ten, biting his lip and holding tightly to his younger brother’s hand.

“I don’t care if she pulls my hair,” Vivaan muttered, trying to sound brave. “I just want her to be born.”

The youngest, Ishaan, barely seven, whispered, “I want to give her the necklace I made. Will she like pearls?”

Pradyumna nodded, though his throat felt tight. “She’ll love it. But only if she comes… if she lives.”

They were too young to understand the full fear of death. But tonight, they were old enough to feel the silence in the air.

Not far from them, in the private chamber of the king, Raghvendra, ruler of Indrakalpa, walked from wall to wall like a lion trapped in a cage.

His crown lay forgotten on the table. His thick hands were clenched into fists. He had fought many wars, defeated monsters, and stood before death many times — but never had he felt as helpless as he did now.

Every time a servant passed by without speaking, his heart jumped. Every minute of silence was heavier than a thousand armies.

Finally, the door opened.

A servant entered, his head low.

Raghvendra ran toward him. “Is she…?”

The servant fell to his knees. “Maharaj… the child is born.”

Raghvendra’s hands trembled. “And the queen?”

“She lives. Weak… but she lives.”

The king closed his eyes and breathed deeply. His voice cracked, “And… the child?”

“A girl, Maharaj.”

The room stood still for a moment. Then a smile broke across his face.

“My daughter…”

He rushed past the servant, down the long halls, his heavy footsteps echoing through the stone floors.

Inside the queen’s chamber, soft cries filled the air.

Wrapped in white cotton and scented with turmeric, the newborn rested in her mother’s arms. Her cheeks were pink, her lips a perfect bow, and her eyes, though barely open, glowed like twilight.

Queen Vanshika was crying again, but now with a smile on her lips.

“She’s so beautiful,” she whispered.

When Raghvendra entered the room, he stopped at the door. His breath caught in his throat.

He had seen many beautiful things in his life — sunrises over battlefields, temples made of gold, the birth of a nation — but nothing compared to this.

His wife, pale but alive, holding their daughter like she was made of starlight.

He stepped forward slowly, like he didn’t want to break the moment.

“She’s... she’s perfect,” he whispered.

Vanshika looked up. “Come, meet her.”

He sat beside her, hands trembling. When he looked at the child, something inside him melted. The king of Indrakalpa felt tears on his cheeks.

“She looks like the moon,” he said softly. “No... like she was born from it.”

Vanshika leaned her head on his shoulder. “What should we name her?”

He looked at the baby for a long time.

“She was born during the storm... and yet, she brought peace with her first cry,” he said. “She is light in darkness.”

His eyes locked with his wife’s.

“Let us call her... Devika.”

Vanshika smiled. “A goddess born of pain and love…”

“A protector of what is pure,” Raghvendra added. “A gift from the gods… and one day, a force the world will never forget.”

Word of the princess’s birth spread across Indrakalpa like fire on dry leaves. Bells rang in temples. Flowers were thrown into the river as offerings. The people lit lanterns and danced in the streets.

The royal family rejoiced.

Her three brothers were the first to run into the chamber, barefoot and smiling, tripping over each other in excitement.

“Where is she?!” Vivaan shouted.

“Let me see her!” Ishaan cried, jumping to peek over the bed.

Pradyumna walked forward slowly and touched the baby’s hand.

“She’s... tiny,” he whispered. “But... I can feel she’s going to be strong.”

Queen Vanshika laughed. “You’ll have to protect her.”

“We will,” Pradyumna said firmly. “Always.”

Vivaan handed over a small pouch. “I made this necklace for her. Pearls and mango seeds. I used the red thread from Dadi’s prayer box.”

The queen tied it gently around the newborn’s wrist.

“She already has her first blessing,” she said.

Later that night, the family gathered in the palace courtyard under the clear sky. The stars had returned — bright, clean, and shining as if celebrating the child’s arrival.

Queen Vanshika held Devika close, while Raghvendra stood with his arm around her. The three boys played nearby, lighting sparklers and singing songs.

None of them saw the shadow standing quietly behind a pillar far from the light.

An old man, dressed in white, watched the child from a distance. His face was unreadable. His lips moved in a whisper, but no one heard.

“She is here,” he murmured. “The storm has begun. But they don’t know... what waits on the other side of this light.”

...****************...

The Lines Written in the Stars

The morning after Devika’s birth was full of brightness. The dark clouds had vanished, leaving the sky painted in gentle hues of orange and gold. The palace courtyard smelled of jasmine and ghee lamps. The celebrations had not stopped. Every corner of Indrakalpa Palace echoed with laughter and song.

But behind the grand smiles and joyous music, something deeper was happening — something known only to two people in the kingdom.

A soft knock came at the royal chamber.

King Raghvendra looked up from where he was gently rocking his newborn daughter. His eyes met Queen Vanshika’s, who sat resting on a cushion, watching them both with a loving smile.

“Come in,” the King said.

The door opened and a tall figure in white robes entered — Acharya Siddhesh, the royal astrologer. His beard was silver, his eyes sharp as the morning star.

“You called for me, Maharaj?”

Raghvendra nodded. “It is time to create the kundali for the princess.”

Acharya Siddhesh bowed. “Of course. The moment of her birth was... unusual. The sky, the storms, the alignment of stars — something powerful has arrived with her.”

Queen Vanshika’s smile faded just a little.

The Acharya walked closer, and King Raghvendra passed the baby to her mother.

“She was born in the last hour of the storm,” he said. “Can you see what the heavens have written for her?”

Siddhesh spread his scrolls and ink. He began chanting quietly, fingers moving over the positions of stars and lunar paths. Minutes passed in complete silence.

Then... his hand froze.

He looked up, eyes unreadable.

“What is it?” Vanshika asked softly, holding Devika close.

The Acharya glanced at the baby. “The nakshatra is Ashlesha... born under the shadowed moon. It is not a weak sign. It is... ancient. She carries something older than fate.”

Raghvendra narrowed his eyes. “Speak clearly, Acharya.”

Siddhesh’s voice dropped to a whisper. “This girl… she will walk through darkness. She will love… and be betrayed. She will burn… and be reborn. Her power will shake the very laws of nature. She will either save this world or destroy it.”

The queen paled. “But she’s only a baby…”

The priest leaned in, speaking only to the king and queen. “There is more… but it cannot be spoken aloud. Not in this life, not before time.”

Raghvendra stood. “You will write it. And lock it. No one else must see it.”

Siddhesh bowed his head and obeyed.

As he left, Queen Vanshika whispered, “Do you think she’ll be safe?”

Raghvendra took Devika into his arms again, holding her close to his chest. “As long as I live,” he said, “nothing will harm her.”

Five years later

The palace gardens were filled with laughter.

Little Devika, now five, ran barefoot through the flower beds, her braid bouncing behind her, petals tangled in her hair.

“Catch her!” cried Ishaan, her youngest brother, who was now twelve.

“She’s too fast!” said Vivaan, panting as he tried to catch up.

From under the shade of a mango tree, Pradyumna, now grown into a tall, confident teenager, watched with a protective gaze.

“Careful near the fountain, Devika!” he called.

“I’m not scared!” she shouted back. “I’m a tiger princess!”

She growled dramatically and leapt onto Vivaan, who yelped and fell into the grass laughing.

The queen watched them from the palace veranda with her friend and maidservant, Charumati, a clever woman who had served the royal family since Vanshika’s childhood.

“She’s already got all three brothers dancing to her tune,” Charumati chuckled, pouring tea.

Vanshika smiled. “They love her too much. She could ask for the moon, and they would try to pluck it from the sky.”

Inside, the royal tutor Acharya Kamal was waiting for Devika’s return.

“She must begin her letters,” he grumbled, tapping the scroll with his pen. “She is five already!”

“I’m here!” Devika shouted, suddenly appearing at the door, muddy, glowing, and breathless.

Acharya Kamal raised an eyebrow. “Princess, are you a student or a squirrel?”

“I’m a tiger,” she said proudly. “But I can learn too.”

He sighed. “Very well. Sit. Today we learn the story of the stars.”

While Devika learned to read, her father ruled.

In the Royal Court, King Raghvendra sat on a high throne carved from sandalwood. Beside him stood Senapati Viraj, the loyal general of Indrakalpa, and Rajguru Varun, the chief spiritual advisor.

Scrolls were laid before him — issues from across the kingdom.

A village in the west needed irrigation. Merchants in the south reported ghost sightings in a jungle. Bandits had attacked a trade route near Tamas Van, the cursed forest.

Raghvendra listened to each one, passing judgment with wisdom.

“To the west,” he said, “send the engineers from Arghya village. They will build the waterway.”

“To the south, send scouts with Rajguru Varun. If it is spirits, he will know.”

“And Tamas Van…” his voice darkened, “double the guards near the forest. No one enters it. Ever.”

Senapati Viraj nodded. “Yes, Maharaj.”

After court, the king returned to his chambers. Waiting for him was a surprise — Devika, hiding behind the curtain.

He pretended not to see her.

“Hm… who left this curtain open?” he said aloud.

A giggle.

“I must summon the guards. Maybe there’s a ghost!”

Suddenly Devika jumped out. “Boo!”

The king laughed and picked her up, tossing her into the air. “Ah! The wild spirit of Indrakalpa!”

“I’m not a ghost,” she said proudly. “I’m your daughter!”

“And what does my daughter want today?”

“A story,” she said. “Tell me how you met Ma.”

So he did.

That night, after Devika was asleep, the queen and king sat under the stars.

“She grows too fast,” Vanshika whispered.

“And she still doesn’t know,” Raghvendra replied, voice low.

“No. She must not. Not yet.”

“She’s happy now. Let her be that way.”

Vanshika held his hand. “But one day…?”

“One day, when the stars demand it… we’ll tell her who she really is.”

Far above them, a star flickered. And somewhere deep in the woods of Tamas Van, something old and restless stirred.

...****************...

Chapter 3: Whispers Beneath the Palace

The sun had just risen over Indrakalpa, casting a golden glow across the palace grounds. The air was cool, filled with the scent of blooming jasmine and the hum of the morning winds. It was the start of another busy day in the kingdom, yet there was an undercurrent of unease that hung in the air. The royal family had celebrated the birth of Princess Devika with joy, but in the shadows of the palace walls, a sense of something unknown lingered.

Inside the royal chamber, Queen Vanshika stood by the window, looking out over the horizon. Her eyes were distant, her mind tangled with thoughts that wouldn’t go away. Her daughter, Devika, was growing fast, and every day, Vanshika could feel the weight of the prophecy that loomed over her. She hadn’t spoken of it to anyone, not even her husband, King Raghvendra. The words of the astrologer, Acharya Siddhesh, haunted her every moment: “She will either save this world or destroy it.”

Vanshika pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. She had no idea what her daughter’s destiny truly held, but she knew one thing: she would protect Devika, no matter what it took. The storm that had heralded her birth seemed to have faded from the sky, but its memory lingered in her mind like a shadow.

A knock on the door broke her thoughts. She turned, wiping away the trace of worry from her face before calling out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and in stepped Acharya Kamal, the royal tutor. His robes were a deep shade of crimson, his face calm as always, though there was a slight furrow between his brows.

“Maharani, I have come to check on Princess Devika’s lessons,” he said, bowing respectfully.

Vanshika smiled warmly at him. “Ah, yes. She’s waiting for you, as always.”

As if on cue, a small figure appeared in the doorway. Princess Devika, now five years old, ran into the room, her braid bouncing with every step. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her small hands were clutching a handful of colorful flowers that she had picked from the garden.

“Acharya Kamal!” Devika exclaimed, running to him. “I’ve brought you flowers for your hair!”

The tutor raised an eyebrow, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve brought me flowers, my princess? How generous.”

Devika giggled and handed him the flowers. “You should wear them, Acharya! They’ll make you look even smarter.”

Vanshika laughed softly, her heart swelling with love for her daughter. “You spoil him, Devika,” she said, crossing the room to sit on a chair. “Now, be a good girl and sit down. It’s time for your lessons.”

“But I want to play!” Devika protested, pouting as she dropped onto the floor.

Acharya Kamal shook his head, trying to hide his amusement. “You must learn, Princess. You will need to know your letters when you are older.”

“I already know some letters!” Devika argued. “I can write my name!” She grabbed a piece of parchment and scribbled a few uneven lines, proudly presenting it to the tutor.

Acharya Kamal squinted at the paper, raising his eyebrows. “Well, I suppose that is… a start,” he said, trying not to laugh. “But we must work on your form.”

“I’ll be the best at everything!” Devika declared, puffing out her chest.

“Indeed, you will,” Vanshika replied, her voice full of affection. “But remember, learning is not just about being the best. It’s about growing your mind, too.”

As Acharya Kamal began the lesson, Queen Vanshika watched her daughter carefully. The warmth of her love for Devika was undeniable, but there was also a lingering sense of worry that she couldn’t shake. Her daughter’s future, as it had been foretold, was a path full of mystery, and the prophecy that had been whispered at her birth still haunted her thoughts.

Vanshika glanced out the window again, this time her gaze lingering on the distant, dark shape of Tamas Van, the cursed forest that lay just beyond the borders of the kingdom. No one dared to enter it. The very name struck fear into the hearts of the people of Indrakalpa. The forest was known to be filled with ancient magic—dark and untamed. The villagers spoke of spirits and shadows that roamed its depths, and there were rumors that the forest was somehow tied to the royal family’s fate.

Could Tamas Van hold the key to Devika’s future? Was it possible that the very prophecy the astrologer had spoken was connected to the mysteries of that cursed forest?

Queen Vanshika shook her head. She couldn’t let her fears consume her. She would protect Devika with everything she had.

Meanwhile, in another part of the palace, King Raghvendra sat in his private chambers, going through the morning’s reports. His strong hands flipped through the scrolls, his brow furrowed as he reviewed the kingdom’s matters. There were always challenges to face—news of bandits along the southern trade routes, requests for aid from villages suffering from drought, and the ongoing issue with the ghost sightings near Tamas Van.

“Ghosts, eh?” Raghvendra muttered under his breath, his mind already drifting to the cursed forest. “That cursed place… the stories never end.”

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Senapati Viraj, the royal general, who entered with a grim expression.

“Maharaj, there has been a disturbance near Tamas Van,” Viraj said, his voice low. “A few farmers claim to have seen strange lights in the forest at night. We’ve had to send a few men to investigate.”

Raghvendra’s expression darkened. “I want no one near that forest. Double the patrols, and make sure no one dares venture too close. I will not risk the kingdom’s safety for these… ghost stories.”

Viraj nodded. “It will be done, Maharaj.”

After the general left, Raghvendra leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The burden of ruling weighed heavily on him, but it was his family—his wife and children—that kept him grounded. Devika, especially, was the light of his life.

But even he could feel that something was amiss. The winds had changed since her birth, the storm had come and gone, and the very air seemed thick with mystery. Was it just his imagination, or was something darker on the horizon?

Outside, the palace was alive with sounds of the day—servants working, children playing, the chatter of the market in the distance—but in Raghvendra’s heart, there was a whispering fear, a sense that his kingdom was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

---

The rest of the morning passed with the usual flurry of activity. Queen Vanshika watched Devika continue her lessons, the little girl now fully absorbed in her studies, though her attention span was still as short as her energy was long.

Later that afternoon, the family gathered in the palace garden for a small meal. The weather was warm, and the trees were full of life, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Devika sat between her brothers, her laughter ringing out as Pradyumna, Vivaan, and Ishaan competed to make her laugh.

“You’ll have to try harder than that to make me laugh!” Devika teased, sticking her tongue out at her eldest brother, Pradyumna.

Pradyumna smiled, though there was a glint of protectiveness in his eyes. “You’re too clever for your own good, little one.”

Vivaan, ever the playful one, chimed in, “I bet I can make you laugh with my best dance moves!”

He began dancing around, his arms flailing and his feet moving in odd, comical rhythms. Devika burst out laughing, rolling on the grass.

“I knew it!” Vivaan shouted, as though he had just won a grand battle.

But it was Ishaan, the youngest, who had the most special moment with Devika that afternoon. He handed her a small, carefully wrapped bundle.

“For you, Didi,” he said shyly.

Devika opened it to reveal a necklace, simple yet beautiful. “I made it myself,” Ishaan said, his cheeks turning pink.

Devika’s eyes lit up, and she jumped into his arms. “I love it! Thank you, Ishaan!”

“I knew you would,” he said, beaming.

As the family sat together, enjoying the simple happiness of the moment, Queen Vanshika glanced at her husband, Raghvendra, who was watching their children with a proud smile. She could see the love in his eyes as he looked at Devika, the daughter who had brought so much joy into their lives.

But beneath the surface, both of them knew that something was changing. Something was coming. The prophecy, the mysterious forces beyond their control… they could feel it.

As the sun began to set and the stars slowly appeared in the sky, Queen Vanshika whispered to herself, “Please, let her be safe.”

And somewhere, deep within the heart of Tamas Van, something stirred—an ancient force, waiting for the time when it would rise.

...****************...