But this was only the beginning.

---

Rajvendra turned to Sujhan Singh, his sword dripping with blood under the silver moonlight. His voice was calm—too calm.

“From now on,” he declared coldly, “you will rule this kingdom under the Thakur name… under my rule.”

His words echoed through the air like thunder.

Sujhan Singh—once my uncle, now my family’s betrayer—nodded with cruel satisfaction. He wiped the blood from his dagger on his shawl, looked at Rajvendra with a smirk, and said:

“Our agreement… is not over, my king. You promised me—the entire family. But one still breathes. Tara.”

Rajvendra didn’t speak.

He turned his head slowly—his eyes locked onto mine, hidden behind the rooftop pillar. He had known all along.

He gave a slight nod. No words. Just silent death in his eyes.

Then he turned to his children—the girl with the blood-stained white dress, the silent weapon-boy, and the older one with apathy carved into his face.

“Go,” he ordered. “Return to Ramgadh. The work is done.”

Without question, they obeyed, vanishing into the shadows like wraiths.

I stood frozen. Every part of me screamed to run, to scream, to fight—but my body was still reeling from grief, fear, and rage.

My breath hitched. My fingers curled into fists. I could barely see through the tears clouding my eyes.

Then, without thinking, I shouted—my voice sharp and piercing, echoing over the rooftop:

“RAJVENDRA! SUJHAN!”

My voice filled the air like lightning splitting the sky.

Before I could step forward, my guard—loyal even in doom—grabbed my arm. “Princess, we must go!”

A few surviving guards—bloodied, battered—rushed forward to shield me. They pushed through the rooftop path, swords clashing with enemy steel, trying to clear a way for me to escape.

Rajvendra’s lips curled into a slow, cruel smile as he stepped toward us. His calmness was more terrifying than any war cry. He didn’t run. He followed. Like a predator playing with wounded prey.

We made it to the edge of the palace wall—the only exit left.

Below us lay the Kaai Valley—a steep, forested ravine. Fog twisted like ghosts in the moonlight. No path. No safety. Only shadows.

I turned—and saw it.

All of them.

My guards. Slain. Fallen in their final stand to protect me.

The palace behind me was still burning. Screams still echoed through the night. The city—my kingdom—was dying.

Sujhan Singh stepped out from the smoke, his dagger still wet. He laughed, stepping forward.

“You have nowhere to go now, Tara.” His eyes glinted. “All paths end here.”

I looked past him—and saw them.

My father’s lifeless body.

My mother’s empty eyes.

My brother’s blood-soaked hand still clutching the royal ring.

The guards who raised me.

The people who danced in our festivals.

All gone.

Their faces flashed before my eyes—flickering like dying flames. The sound of crying rose from the city below. A chorus of pain. A kingdom in mourning.

My vision blurred.

But it wasn’t just tears.

It was rage.

Something inside me snapped.

My chest burned with fire. My eyes—red, wild, defiant—locked onto Sujhan and Rajvendra.

They thought I was cornered.

They thought the story ended here.

But this was only the beginning.

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