soul had been torn

As I knelt beside my mother’s lifeless body, it felt like my soul had been torn from my chest.

Everything around me began to blur. The world dimmed. My thoughts dissolved into a black fog. My hands were still on her, trembling, useless—begging time to reverse. My heart wasn’t beating in pain—it was screaming in silence.

But then…

Something clicked.

A spark in the void.

Father. Brother.

Where were they?

A sharp noise rang in the distance—steel clashing against steel. Shouts. Footsteps. The thud of boots. I froze. I wasn’t alone. From the shadows of the grand corridor, I saw guards—strange guards—moving swiftly, speaking in clipped, foreign tones. Their armor bore no royal crest of Udaipur. These weren’t ours.

I crouched low, every nerve in my body trembling. A force inside me—instinct or desperation—I didn’t know which—began pulling me toward the rooftop of the palace. Somewhere in my gut, I knew something was happening up there. Something I needed to see.

I kept to the side halls, hiding behind pillars, slipping behind tapestries, moving like a shadow. The smell of smoke was stronger now. The stone walls that once held warmth now felt like cold tombs. My heartbeat thundered in my ears with each step.

I reached the narrow staircase to the rooftop, slipping past a distracted guard. My body was moving on its own—I barely felt the cuts on my palms or the ache in my legs. I only knew I had to go.

And then…

I saw it.

Everything shattered again.

On the rooftop of the palace, under the open night sky, my father—King Raghav Singh—was locked in fierce combat with none other than Rajvendra Thakur.

Steel flashed. Sparks flew. The two titans clashed like gods at war.

And standing not far from them… was Sujhan Singh—my father’s own elder brother. My uncle.

And in his hand… was a bloodstained dagger.

He had just stabbed my brother.

I saw Virendra fall to his knees, clutching his side, his white kurta soaking in crimson.

I gasped—tried to scream—but someone grabbed me from behind. A hand covered my mouth, silencing me. I kicked and struggled, but the grip was strong. I heard a voice—low and desperate, whispering into my ear:

“Princess… please, don’t. Don’t go there. You can’t help them. Not now.”

My guard. Loyal. Terrified. He was trying to protect me. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

I watched as my father shouted with fury, his voice rising like a dying lion:

“Rajvendra! The sword in the heart of a Dra is cursed! You spill innocent blood for power?!”

Rajvendra didn’t flinch.

Beside him stood three children.

One—a girl around my own age—stood motionless in a white dress stained with blood. She smiled as if watching a play, not a massacre. Her hands were slick with red, her eyes cold as ice.

Another—an older boy, maybe 14—stood silent beside Rajvendra. His eyes were empty. Trained. Already a weapon.

And the third—a boy just a little older than me—watched my brother bleed with an expression of pure indifference. As if it meant nothing.

I realized in that moment… they were not just children.

They were Thakurs.

Not a family—a faction. A curse. A bloodline born in betrayal.

And I… was witnessing the end of my world.

---

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***