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Chapter 2 – The Raga of Fire and a Forgotten Chord
The palace of Suryapuri gleamed under the afternoon sun, its golden domes reflecting firelight like living flames. Inside the grand hall, every noble, scholar, and artist waited for the most anticipated event of the season—the Sangeet Sammelan, a royal music gathering that honored the kingdom's divine heritage.
Rows of musicians sat with their instruments ready. Incense curled through the air like slow-moving dreams. At the center of it all sat Prince Aaditya, the crown heir of Suryapuri, his posture straight and regal upon the golden throne.
Though his expression was calm, his thoughts were far away. For days, the prince had been restless—haunted by dreams of melodies he couldn't remember when he awoke. Every mention of music stirred a strange ache in his chest, as if something inside him was trying to wake.
He forced himself to focus. Servants announced the next performer. "From the kingdom of Chandrapuri, representing the moonlit court of Maharaja Rohit… Prince Devansh."
A murmur spread across the crowd. A prince performing in public? That alone was unheard of. Aaditya's gaze sharpened.
From behind the curtain, Devansh stepped into the light. He was dressed in robes of soft blue and silver, the colors of a quiet night. In his hands, he carried an ancient veena, its dark wood inlaid with sapphires that shimmered faintly under the torches.
He bowed respectfully to the royal court, then took his seat. There was no grand speech, no announcement. He simply placed the veena on his lap, closed his eyes, and began.
Tan...
A single note filled the hall—soft, but deep, like a heartbeat echoing through time.
Then another.
And another.
Each note grew into the next, building into a raga so pure that the air itself seemed to bend toward it. Conversations faded. Even the torches stilled, their flames swaying in rhythm to the sound.
Aaditya leaned forward without realizing it. The music pulled at something buried deep inside him—a longing older than memory.
Devansh's fingers moved with grace and certainty, his every motion a prayer. His expression was peaceful, yet behind his calm eyes hid something haunting, as if each note carried both pain and devotion.
Then, something impossible happened.
At the edge of the stage, a row of unlit oil lamps flickered—one, then another, then all at once bursting into light. Gasps rippled through the hall.
"By the gods…" whispered a courtier. "He's playing with fire itself!"
But Devansh seemed unaware. His eyes were closed, lost completely in the raga. The veena glowed faintly, strings humming with divine resonance.
For Aaditya, it was like watching the world itself awaken. His pulse raced. Each note struck something within him that words could not reach.
When the final chord rang out, silence fell. The air still hummed with the echo of that sound—alive, holy, unforgettable.
Then the hall erupted in applause.
Aaditya rose to his feet first. "Magnificent," he said under his breath.
Devansh opened his eyes and looked up. And in that moment—the first glance—the world shifted again.
Aaditya's breath caught. Those eyes… deep as moonlit water. Calm, yet endless. Devansh's gaze met his with quiet recognition, though neither could explain why it felt like remembering someone from another life.
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Later, in the garden beyond the hall, the night was still bright with celebration. Lanterns floated above the fountains, and soft laughter filled the air.
Aaditya found himself walking toward the secluded marble walkway, drawn by instinct more than thought. There, by a pillar wrapped in jasmine vines, stood Devansh, alone. His veena rested by his side, his expression unreadable.
"Prince Devansh," Aaditya greeted, his voice warm but unsure.
Devansh turned, and his calm eyes softened. "Prince Aaditya. I hope Suryapuri finds my performance worthy."
"Worthy?" Aaditya let out a quiet laugh. "You didn't just play music. You summoned it. The entire hall felt it." He hesitated, then added, "Even… the flames obeyed you."
Devansh's smile was faint, almost sad. "The old texts say when sound becomes pure enough, it touches the essence of creation. Perhaps, for a moment, the universe remembered its rhythm."
His tone carried the wisdom of ages. Aaditya found himself staring—not in admiration, but in confusion. There was something familiar in the way Devansh spoke, something ancient hiding behind that gentle voice.
"Walk with me," Aaditya said impulsively. "I want to understand."
Devansh nodded. "As you wish."
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The palace gardens stretched wide, filled with moonflowers and quiet pools that mirrored the starlit sky. They walked side by side, their footsteps falling into the same rhythm.
"You play as though you've done it all your life," Aaditya said. "Where did you learn?"
Devansh brushed his fingers along the veena's strings, the faint hum answering like a living being. "I didn't learn. I remembered. The first time I touched this instrument, it felt… like coming home."
Aaditya stopped walking. His pulse quickened. "Then you've felt it too?"
Devansh turned, curious. "Felt what?"
"This strange pull," Aaditya said, his voice low. "As if the universe is whispering something I can't understand. Every time I hear music, it feels like my soul is reaching for something… or someone."
Devansh's breath caught. For the first time, his calm façade faltered. "I've felt that too," he admitted softly. "It's as if every melody I play is searching for a missing note."
Their eyes met again, and for a heartbeat, time stopped. The night wind stilled. The stars seemed to hold their breath.
Aaditya raised a hand, almost unconsciously, as if drawn by an unseen force. His fingers brushed against Devansh's.
A spark jumped between them—literal light, white and gold, flickering for a split second.
Both princes gasped. A rush of images flooded their minds—an ancient grove, a broken melody, a voice shouting a curse, and a veena shattering in blinding light.
Then, silence.
They stumbled back, breathless, their hearts pounding.
"What… what was that?" Aaditya whispered.
Devansh's hand trembled over his veena. "A memory," he said slowly. "Not mine. Not yours. Something older."
Before they could speak further, a soldier came running through the garden gates, armor clanking.
"Prince Aaditya!" he cried. "The king—your father! He's collapsed! The physicians… they can't explain it. His life force is fading!"
Aaditya's face went pale. "What?"
He turned toward the palace, panic flashing in his fiery eyes. But as he moved, his gaze darted once more to Devansh—whose expression had turned grim.
"This is no coincidence," Devansh said quietly, his voice urgent. "A sudden illness, a meeting that triggers memories, a divine melody reborn… The curse has awakened."
Aaditya stared at him, fear and confusion warring within. "Curse? What curse?"
Devansh's grip tightened on his veena, his eyes darkening. "The one that once silenced Heaven itself."
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End of Chapter 2: The Raga of Fire and a Forgotten Chord
> Two princes bound by a melody older than their blood.
One who carries the fire of destiny.
One who carries the music of Heaven.
Their meeting has awakened what the gods tried to bury… and the curse begins to stir again.