Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Shadows Beneath the Throne

The monsoon rains had arrived early in Indrakalpa.

Dark clouds lingered for days, their grey bellies full of thunder. The palace walls dripped with rainwater, and the courtyards became small rivers. Yet even in the heart of this stormy season, the palace remained alive with laughter—because where Princess Devika went, joy followed.

Now six years old, she had become the pride and light of the kingdom.

In the morning, she could be found racing barefoot down the marble corridors, chased by her brothers and two pet peacocks. By noon, she was either found in her study, curled beside her tutor Acharya Kamal with a furrowed brow as she tried to write out Sanskrit verses, or sitting under the neem tree, braiding garlands with Charumati and the palace maids.

"What flower is this again?" she asked, holding up a red bloom.

"Palash, Rani beti," said Charumati, smiling. "The flame of the forest."

"Like the one in the Van?" Devika asked innocently.

The women exchanged uneasy glances.

"No one goes to Tamas Van," Charumati said softly. "That place is not for flowers."

Devika tilted her head. "Why? What is in the Van?"

"Old things, child. Forgotten things. Some doors are not meant to be opened."

"But what if someone is lost there? Shouldn't we help them?"

Charumati touched her cheek gently. "Sometimes, the people who are lost in such places... were never meant to be found."

---

That evening, the royal court gathered in the Darbar Hall.

King Raghvendra sat upon the lion-carved throne, his expression heavy. A messenger from the southern borders had arrived, soaked from the road, carrying troubling news.

"Another caravan has gone missing, Maharaj," he reported. "Near the edge of Tamas Van."

The hall fell silent.

Pradyumna, now eighteen and often seated beside his father during councils, leaned forward. "That makes three in two weeks. Bandits?"

"We found no signs of theft," the messenger said. "No bodies either. Just... vanished."

Senapati Viraj's face was grim. "The forest grows restless."

"We doubled the guard at the perimeter," Raghvendra replied, "yet it continues."

Rajguru Varun, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Maharaj, perhaps it is not a matter of steel. Perhaps this is not a threat that can be fought."

"Speak plainly, Guruji."

Varun bowed his head. "There are old things in that forest. Sealed by mantras older than this kingdom. If they stir again, then swords will do little."

A heavy silence followed.

---

Devika, of course, was not allowed near court matters. But her ears were sharp, and her curiosity even sharper.

Later that night, she snuck into the chamber where her brothers often trained with wooden swords.

"Ishaan," she whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "What is in Tamas Van?"

Ishaan, now thirteen, paused mid-swing. "Why do you ask?"

"Charumati says it's dangerous. But why? Is there a monster? A ghost? A cursed prince?"

Vivaan grinned. "Maybe it's where all the naughty children go."

"Don't scare her," Pradyumna said firmly. "Devika, some places are dark not because of what is inside, but because of what has been forgotten."

She frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

"It will, one day."

"But what if someone needs help?"

Pradyumna knelt in front of her. "Then we will help them. But you must promise me something. You will never go near that forest. Not without me."

Devika looked into his eyes and saw something she hadn't seen before—fear. Real, quiet fear.

She nodded slowly. "I promise."

---

In the following days, strange things began to happen.

One morning, the palace cows refused to enter the royal stables. They stood outside the gates, lowing and trembling.

The chief cowherd came running to the queen. "Maharani, something frightened them. Their eyes are wide, and one even tried to leap into the river."

Elsewhere, in the palace library, scrolls began falling from their shelves. Always the same scrolls—ancient histories of the kingdom, records of the old days when Indrakalpa was a loose collection of mountain tribes.

In the temple courtyard, a statue of Saraswati cracked down the middle, though there had been no tremor.

Acharya Siddhesh, the astrologer, grew increasingly tense.

One morning, he asked to see the queen in private.

"Her stars are shifting," he said.

"Whose?"

"Devika's. I read her chart again. The Ashlesha nakshatra burns brighter now. Something is awakening in her."

Queen Vanshika grew pale. "Is she in danger?"

"Not yet. But the world around her is changing. And the forest feels it."

---

One night, Devika awoke from a dream.

She sat up, sweat clinging to her skin.

The moonlight had painted her room in silver. But there, at the edge of her bed, stood a woman in a long, white veil. Silent. Motionless.

Devika opened her mouth to scream, but the woman raised a finger to her lips.

"Shhh..."

Her voice was like wind rustling through dead leaves.

Devika blinked. "Who... are you?"

The woman stepped forward.

She knelt.

And gently touched the child’s forehead.

"You carry the flame... born from storm and sorrow. The blood remembers. The roots still bleed. When the black moon rises, you must not forget."

Devika’s vision spun. Her head throbbed. She fell back onto the pillow and darkness claimed her.

When she awoke, morning had arrived.

She ran to her mother, breathless.

"Ma! A woman... she was in my room... she touched me!"

Vanshika's eyes widened. "What woman?"

"In white. She said strange words. That I carry the flame. That... something about roots."

The queen held her close.

Then called for Acharya Siddhesh at once.

When he heard what Devika had said, his face turned ashen.

"This was no dream," he said. "The Veiled One has returned."

"Who is she?" Raghvendra asked, entering the room.

"A spirit tied to the forest. She appears only to those marked by fate. This changes everything."

The king paced. "Do we leave? Hide her?"

"No," Siddhesh said. "You must let her grow. But you must also prepare her. Begin the training. She must learn to defend her mind and spirit."

Raghvendra nodded. "She will be taught. Swordplay, meditation, the mantras of the old tongue."

"And she must not know her full destiny yet," Siddhesh warned. "Not until she is strong enough to hold the truth."

---

In the days that followed, Devika’s life began to change.

Her brothers noticed it first.

"Why are you learning mantras with Rajguru Varun now?" Ishaan asked.

"And meditation? You hate sitting still," Vivaan added.

"I just want to be stronger," Devika said.

Pradyumna watched her with narrowed eyes. He saw how she moved now—more careful. How she looked at shadows.

And he worried.

Late one evening, he entered the old library.

He opened the sealed scrolls.

And began to read about Tamas Van.

The stories were older than the palace itself.

Of a tree that bled black sap.

Of a lake where the dead whispered beneath the water.

Of a gate sealed by a blood oath, hiding something ancient, bound in sleep.

And a prophecy.

"The child born in storm, under the veiled stars, shall either awaken the old curse… or break it."

Pradyumna’s blood ran cold.

He clutched the scroll and whispered to himself, "Devika... what are you becoming?"

---

Far away, deep in the heart of Tamas Van, a ripple spread through the ground.

A tree cracked open.

And eyes long closed blinked in the dark.

The world was beginning to stir again.

The protector had been born.

But the destroyer was not far behind.

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

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