⭐ CHAPTER 1 — "The First Sign"
The soft morning sunlight slipped through the curtains and spilled across the room. Rudrapriya Singh Rajputana jolted upright, her breath uneven, her heartbeat racing. The dream… the same dream again.
The same child she had once held in her arms. The same warm smile… the same tiny piece of chocolate they had shared — half eaten by her, half by him.
And then that strange, breathtaking moment when the entire village stood around her like loyal subjects, performing aarti as she stood at the center with a sword in her hand — proud, powerful, but filled with a strange restlessness.
That dream always shook something deep within her — as if a forgotten life was calling her back.
Rudra slipped out of bed. A faint scent of peacock feathers lingered in the air… a scent she knew came from no window.
It was a sign — a call she could not ignore.
She stepped onto the balcony. The vast courtyard of the Rajputana haveli lay wrapped in silence. From somewhere in the distance came the rhythmic echo of horse hooves — steady, familiar — yet inside her, a storm brewed.
She couldn't sit still. She needed her sword.
Without it, the dream made no sense.
Rudra made her way toward the training yard. The ancient weapons on the walls seemed to follow her with their gaze. She reached for her favorite sword — Vajranga — lifting it with both hands. The metal felt alive against her palms. For a moment, she felt as if she were that ancient queen again… in the same haveli… holding the same blade.
She moved.
Strike.
Turn.
Step.
Flow.
Every motion sharp, every arc precise — guided by some unseen force that seemed to know her better than she knew herself.
Then — clang.
A second sword collided with hers from behind.
Her father.
Rajveer Singh Rajputana — former national fencing champion, IPS officer, and above all, her guru.
"The dream again?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Rudra didn't hide her smile. "Yes, Baba. This time… it felt deeper."
Their swords clashed again, echoing across the courtyard. Rudra's movements were lightning-fast — her spins graceful, her footwork rhythmic like a warrior dancing with fate. Metal rang against metal, sparks flashing in the morning light.
Then, in one sudden motion, she twisted her sword and knocked Baba's blade to the ground. A moment of stunned silence—
Then Rajveer burst into laughter. "My daughter… is no ordinary daughter. She is the heir of Rajputana. The day you wear the IPS uniform, the country will finally learn what true talent looks like."
She smiled, but the shadow of the dream still clung to her eyes.
Rajveer noticed. "There is something in that dream, Rudra. Something tied to your past… or your future."
She lowered her sword. "Baba… what if that dream is a warning?"
Rajveer's gaze deepened. "Or… a destiny waiting to awaken?"
Rudra froze. "Destiny?"
A quiet mystery glimmered in her father's eyes. "Some lives, some duties, and some bonds are not merely born — they return."
And at that exact moment, a peacock feather drifted down from nowhere… landing at Rudra's feet.
She stiffened. Rajveer fell silent.
From somewhere far away came the soft, unmistakable whisper of a flute — faint, but perfectly clear.
Rudrapriya's palms turned cold.
She whispered—
"Baba… what if this isn't just a dream?"