The palace corridors felt different after the attack —
not just stone and paint, but alive with fear.
Servants whispered and scurried.
Guards stood rigid, knuckles white on spear shafts.
Even the torches seemed to burn brighter, as if trying to push back the darkness itself.
Arjun walked beside Tara and Blade, every step echoing too loud in his ears.
Blade trotted with tail stiff, hackles raised, fur puffed larger than his actual tiny size.
He wasn't fooling anyone, but Arjun appreciated the effort.
Tara kept pace, jaw tight, shoulders squared.
She looked composed — but Arjun felt tension radiating from her like heat from metal.
He whispered, "How angry is he going to be?"
Tara didn't look at him.
"My father is a wise king," she said carefully.
"But wisdom does not erase fear. And tonight, fear filled these halls."
Translation: Expect trouble.
Arjun swallowed hard.
They reached the Mahasabha Hall — a throne chamber so vast the ceiling vanished into darkness.
Massive pillars carved with gods and beasts lined the sides.
Incense curled through the air like ghostly serpents.
Two braziers burned on either side of the dais — filling the hall with a blistering glow.
The throne itself towered at the far end — an obsidian seat shaped like a lion's roaring head.
Upon it sat Maharaja Shantiraj, King of Nandivana.
His presence filled the room before his voice did.
Tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in red and gold.
Beard shot with silver.
Eyes like steel sharpened on a whetstone.
He looked like a king forged by war, not crowned in luxury.
But those eyes — when they fell on Arjun — were cold as winter.
"Bring the child forward," he commanded.
Arjun flinched at the word child.
Tara stepped protectively closer. "He is a guest—"
"He is a danger," the king cut in.
"A shadow cult breaches my walls, and coincidentally, you return with a stranger bearing a forbidden mark."
Tara opened her mouth, but Arjun spoke first — surprising even himself.
"I didn't choose this."
His voice rang louder than he expected, echoing in the domed hall.
"I didn't ask for some glowing mark, or assassins, or gates and cults. I just— woke up here."
The king's gaze hardened. "And yet the danger followed you."
Arjun clenched his fists.
He wanted to shout back,
You think I wanted people to die for me?
But Tara touched his arm lightly — a warning.
Not here. Not yet.
Vedanth stepped forward from the shadows — the scholar's ink-stained robe fluttering.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing.
"The sigil Arjun bears is not a curse. It is the Ashkiran birthright."
Murmurs rippled among royal advisors lining the walls.
One noble hissed, "Extinct!"
Another snarled, "Impossible."
A third spat, "If true, every cult in Bharat will hunt him."
Arjun's skin crawled.
The king leaned forward on his throne. "Explain."
Vedanth raised his staff, sparks of runic energy drifting like fireflies.
"The Ashkiran were forged by Indra and Brahma themselves, blessed to turn back a rising tide of demons in the Dawn Age. Their bloodline—"
"Was wiped from the world," the king finished sharply.
Silence pulsed.
Vedanth nodded grimly. "So we believed."
Tara stepped forward.
"Father, he awakened alone in the forest. The cult attacked. He would be dead without protection."
The king's voice was iron. "The cult came because he lived."
Tara straightened, eyes flashing. "And it will keep coming, whether he walks alone or stands with us."
Arjun's heart kicked.
She's fighting for me.
A dangerous warmth flickered in his chest — not power, not fear — something softer.
The king noticed.
"And you," he said to Tara, voice edged with a father's fear, "place yourself between danger and destiny? You who are meant to lead the Durga Priestesses? Who carry the moon sigil?"
Tara's hands tightened at her sides. "I cannot abandon my dharma. If the gods marked him, then he belongs to this world as much as we do."
The king's lips parted — to argue? To shout?
Arjun stepped forward before he could speak.
"I don't want to be your problem," Arjun said quietly. "But I won't run from what's chasing me."
He forced air into his lungs and added:
"I'll fight.
I'll learn to survive.
Just— teach me how."
His voice cracked — not from weakness, but from conviction being born.
The hall fell utterly silent.
Blade pressed against Arjun's ankle, shimmering faintly — and Arjun noticed for the first time that the cub's eyes now glowed faint gold in the torchlight.
Something — someone — was changing.
The king's eyes drifted to the pup, then back to Arjun.
At last, the Maharaja exhaled slowly — a storm settling, not dispersing.
"You have spirit," he said.
"And power. Raw and unshaped."
His voice lowered.
"And power like that is a double-edged sword."
Arjun nodded once.
He knew it to be true.
The king turned to Tara.
"You will take responsibility for him."
Tara inhaled sharply. "Yes, Father."
"You will train beside him," the king continued. "Watch him. Judge him."
His voice dropped to a growl.
"And if he shows even a spark of corruption — if the darkness taints him…"
Tara swallowed, throat tightening.
Arjun felt the hair rise on his arms.
The king finished, slowly, brutally:
"You will be the one to end him."
The words landed like a blade driven through the floor. Arjun felt it in his marrow.
Tara's breath shook — barely — but she lifted her chin.
"If it comes to that," she whispered, "I will do what is necessary."
Their eyes met — hers stormy with conflict, his burning with defiance.
Neither spoke, but something passed between them: A bond forged not by choice, but survival.
The king raised his hand.
"It is decided."
He stood — towering, imposing.
"You begin training at dawn."
Arjun nodded, pulse steady now.
The king turned away.
"Pray you are the light the legends promised, Arjun Ashkiran."
His final words echoed long after they left the hall:
"Because if you are not…
then you are the spark that will burn this world."
Arjun walked out beside Tara, Blade padding at their feet.
For the first time since waking in this world, Arjun felt not lost — but claimed.
By danger.
By destiny.
By a princess's vow.
Tara exhaled shakily.
"Are you scared?"
Arjun answered honestly. "Yes."
She gave a tiny, crooked smile — tired but real.
"Good," she said softly. "Only fools charge into fate without fear."
Their eyes met — and something wordless flickered between them again.
Not yet love. But maybe— The first ember.
Blade yipped once — a spark of gold dancing across his fur.
And Arjun smiled grimly, pulse quickening.
"Dawn training, huh?" he muttered.
Tara smirked. "Try not to die."
To be continued...