The Relentless Flow of Time
In the cosmic design woven by Anant, time was not a single river but many, each flowing at its own pace. In Swarg, it moved with the grace of a gentle stream—a single day in Heaven witnessing the bloom and withering of a hundred human lifetimes on Earth. For Shaurya, standing on his balcony, only a few weeks had passed since he had seen Advik as a newborn. But on Earth, the torrent of time had rushed forward with unforgiving speed.
The infant Prince Advik, whose birth felt like a recent miracle to Shaurya's heart, was already a young man of twenty-four, the Crown Prince of Vasantnagri.
The Crown Prince of Vasantnagri
Prince Advik stood as the future king of a kingdom of eternal spring. But he was a paradox within its vibrant beauty. His younger brother, Prince Veer, was his complete opposite—sunny, outgoing, fully embracing his royal role. Their bond was strong, with Veer often trying to pull Advik out of his silent reveries.
But Advik was different. He was defined by an unwavering preference for black. Tonight, he wore a finely tailored black angarkha made of the darkest silk, with minimal silver embroidery at the cuffs and collar. A heavy, silver amulet set with a dark, smoky crystal rested against his chest. His jet-black hair, longer now, was tied back, emphasizing the sharp lines of his face and the profound melancholy in his eyes.
He was a skilled warrior, but his heart wasn't in royal duties. He felt like a stranger in his own life, haunted by a past he never lived.
Scene: The Rooftop Under the Moon
The world below the palace was asleep, but Advik stood on the highest balcony of Vasant Mahal, his figure a stark silhouette against the brilliant full moon. The warm, fragrant air of Vasantnagri, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine, did nothing to ease the chill in his soul.
His gaze was locked on the celestial orb, as it had been for countless nights. A deep, unexplainable ache filled his chest, a longing for something—or someone—he could not name.
Kya hai us aakash mein? (What is there in that sky?) he wondered, his voice a whisper stolen by the wind. Kya hai jo mujhe har pal apni taraf kheench ta hai? (What is it that pulls me towards itself every moment?)
He placed a hand over his heart, feeling its frantic beat against his palm. Yeh chand... kyon? Kyon meri aankhein har raat ise dekhar roti hain apne aap? (This moon... why? Why do my eyes well up on their own, looking at it every night?)
A single, hot tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek. He made no move to wipe it away. Jabki mujhe pata hi nahi hai... ki main ro kyon raha hoon. (Even though I don't know... why I am crying.)
The connection was a physical pain, a hook in his very being, tugging him relentlessly towards the heavens. He felt like a compass needle desperately seeking its true north, lost in a world that, for all its beauty and love, felt like a gilded cage. The moonlight seemed to whisper secrets in a language his soul recognized but his mind had forgotten.
The Hidden Watcher
In the deepest shadows of the garden below, a figure watched. It was the Asur scout, sworn to King Shaktisur's command. His mission of protection was complete; the boy was now a man. But the second part of his king's command remained—to guide him back to his true home, to stir the demon blood that ran in his veins.
Seeing the prince's profound connection to the moon, a symbol so deeply tied to the heavens, the scout knew his task would be difficult. The pull of Swarg, the memory of a lost love, was a chain stronger than any he had known.
A Brother's Concern
Prince Veer found his brother on the rooftop, his approach silent. "Bhaiya," he said softly, "the ministers are asking for you. The harvest reports need your approval."
Advik didn't turn. "Let them wait."
Veer came to stand beside him, following his gaze to the moon. "You always look at it as if you've lost something there."
"Perhaps I have," Advik murmured, his voice distant. "I just can't remember what."
"Mother and Father are worried about you. They say you should take a bride, that it will settle your restless spirit."
A bitter smile touched Advik's lips. "A bride? How can I give my heart to another when I feel like it already belongs to someone? Somewhere." He finally turned to his brother, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears in the moonlight. "Do you ever feel like you're living the wrong life, Veer? Like you're an actor playing a part, waiting for the real story to begin?"
Veer placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "This is your real life, Bhaiya. You are the Crown Prince of Vasantnagri. This is your destiny."
Is it? Advik thought, turning back to the moon. Then why does it feel like such a beautiful prison?
He stood there until the moon began its descent, his black clothes soaking in the pale light, his heart silently weeping for a love story he had lived but could not remember. The night held its breath, keeping the secret of the demon prince who loved a god, and the moon remained the only witness to a tragedy etched across time itself.
Chapter End :
He was a prince of spring, dressed in the colors of night, his heart tethered to a moon he couldn't forget. But as Advik finally turned to leave the rooftop, a sudden, searing pain shot through his temple—a flash of a silver blade and a pair of sorrowful starlit eyes. The memory lasted only a second, but it was enough to make him stagger. For the first time in twenty-four years, the void in his soul had a shape. And it was terrifyingly familiar.
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