Fate is a strange game.
Sometimes it can turn a king into a pauper, and other times, it can make an unknown face the true heir to an empire. Without warning, without a sign, just a twist, and the entire story changes. And perhaps, this time, the game had begun. With a streak of light that had decided to rewrite the pages of history.
Some legacies become crowns, but some never become crowns—they are the foundation upon which an entire empire is built. The world has always worshiped the history it has seen. But what about the pages that were burned, the names that were never recorded? Were they not history? Or were they just fragments of a truth that was deliberately hidden?
Mumbai's outskirts
6:00 A.M.
It was that transitional moment between winter and summer, as if nature itself was waiting for a major change. There, where the laughter of children once echoed, now stood an old, almost-forgotten orphanage, the "Rudra Bal Niketan."
A deep silence hung in the air. So profound that the rustle of the wind felt like a scream. The sky was perfectly clear—no clouds, no fog. Just an eerie stillness, a terrifying peace, signaling an impending storm.
And then, piercing that calm, deep blue sky, a flash! There was no cloud or thunder, just a sharp bolt of lightning that filled the entire orphanage with light for a moment. And in the very next moment, the cry of a newborn baby broke the silence. Faint, but echoing. Like the beginning of an unwritten, unknown chapter, whose first line had just been penned.
The Orphanage Room
Devika, a senior caretaker in her late twenties, was neither married nor bound by any relationship. She was a mother figure to every orphan, a woman who had dedicated her entire life to these children. Her own past was incomplete, but she had found her complete life in these kids. They were her family, her future.
Her sleep was broken. Her heartbeat was racing, so fast that she felt her chest would burst. "Was it a dream?" she asked herself, her voice a mix of fear and hope. But the cries were more real now, as if an invisible force was pulling her outside.
Devika quickly grabbed her shawl and ran out. The other staff members were also awake, their eyes a mix of sleep and dread. Together, they opened the heavy wooden main gate, which creaked open with an odd groan, as if an old secret was being revealed.
And there, a small wooden box lay. Old and dusty, but its craftsmanship held a strange allure, as if it had come from another era. The box was old but not ordinary. Its surface was covered in strange symbols—like the royal script of an ancient age, suggesting it was part of a deep story. A faint glow emanated from these symbols, clearly visible even in the dark.
Devika gently opened it, and time stood still.
Inside, there was a newborn baby. Shivering from the cold, but his face was serene. So peaceful that he looked like he was from another world. There was a strange twinkle in his eyes, which glimmered even in the darkness.
Around his neck was a locket—heavy, round, made of a mixed metal of copper and black. It wasn't just a locket; it was a symbol, an identity. Engraved on it was the face of a wolf—half white, half black. So intricate, it looked like the symbol of a forgotten dynasty now resurfacing.
Tears filled Devika's eyes. They weren't just tears; they were an unknown connection, a feeling that shook her to her core. She picked up the baby. As she touched his soft skin, she felt an invisible energy course through her body. And then something stirred within her, something she had never felt before.
"There's something about this child," she said softly, her voice filled with a strange wonder. "He's not just a baby. He's something more."
"Devika, how did this child get here?" a caretaker broke the silence, her voice a mix of curiosity and fear. "And this box... it looks like a treasure."
Devika's gaze remained on the locket. She was touching it as if a secret was hidden within. "I don't know," she said. "But there's something about his face... his innocence... that touches the heart." She held the baby tighter in her arms. "It's like he's a part of me, someone I've been searching for for years."
Just then, her eyes fell on a small golden chest hidden beneath the box. It was small but shiny, as if a royal secret was sealed within, a truth hidden from the world. The symbols on it were strange yet familiar, like the identity of a lost dynasty now reappearing. Engraved on it was a name: Neil.
Devika tried to open it, but it was sealed as if with an ancient spell that only a special person could break. She was stunned. Such detail, such security... this couldn't be just for a child. She looked at the baby. His locket was now emitting a faint warmth, as if it were reacting to something. "Is his name Neil?" she whispered, her voice filled with a new hope.
Just then, Anita, who had been at the orphanage for years, spoke from behind. "Devika, there's a strange unease on your face. Your eyes are shining. Do you know this child? Is there a connection to your past?"
Devika was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the baby, as if trying to read his future. Then she took a deep breath and said, "No. But my heart tells me this child is a part of me. As if I had lost him, and now I've found him again." There was a firmness in her voice, an unwavering resolve. "If this world has abandoned him, he is not alone anymore. He is mine. And I will protect him at any cost." Her voice was a vow, a mother's vow.
Somewhere else, on a cliff by the sea
Early evening
The air was thick with a mix of tension, duty, and regret. Somewhere isolated, a private, forgotten beach, where only the sound of stormy waves echoed. The vast ocean was crashing waves with all its might.
But in front of those stormy waves, a man stood completely still on a rock—like a mountain that no storm could shake, no emotion could touch. His back was to the sea, and his hands were clasped behind him in a regal posture. There was discipline and power in his every movement.
He was tall, and his face showed the slight maturity of age, but a strange energy was still alive in his eyes, an energy meant for a greater purpose. The clothes he wore were not ordinary. It was a black tailored suit, but its design was like the symbol of a royal lineage, a lineage with a deep and mysterious history. Golden buttons were shining, and on his collar, there was a raised insignia. It was clear from looking at it that this was no ordinary man. Perhaps a kingmaker. Or a man who runs an empire from the shadows, whose identity is secret but whose influence is everywhere.
Next to him, on the ground, a young man lay bloody. His breathing was fast, but there was a strange peace in his eyes, as if he had accepted his fate. His entire body was wounded, his clothes torn, his face covered in dust and blood.
He raised his head and said in a trembling voice, "Hukum Sa. As per your command, I have taken the young prince to the place you mentioned. Safe. Just as you wished." His voice was heavy. His breaths were ragged, but the loyalty in his voice was still alive, a loyalty that didn't fear death.
The high-ranking man was still looking at the sea, as if he was looking at his past. But the hardness on his face had now turned into a slight pain, a pain he had hidden for years.
Without looking back, he said, his voice calm but filled with deep concern, "Were they followed? Did anyone see you?"
The answer came immediately, with a sense of pride in the young man's voice. "Yes, Hukum. Those people were behind us, the ones looking for the young prince. They were following them like wolves. But I gave them no clues. When I was forced on the way, when they tried to stop me, I finished them all. Not one was left alive."
A few seconds of silence. Only the sound of waves and the wind.
Then, the tall man turned slightly. His eyes were now sharp and full of suspicion, as if he was searching for a lie in the young man's words. "So that means, they now know that you know about the prince. And if you are caught, they will pressure you. They will break you." There was a warning in his voice.
The young man on the ground's eyes deepened. He had accepted death. He said with a slight smile, his voice filled with a final surrender, "Hukum Sa, my duty was to protect them. To keep them safe. Now perhaps my time is up. I have fulfilled my duty."
And then, he put his hand inside his torn shirt and took out a golden-toned pistol. It was not an ordinary weapon; it was probably a symbol of his lineage. His palm was trembling, but his mind was completely steady, his decision unwavering. "I don't want the prince to be harmed because of me. I don't want my weakness to become a threat to him."
Saying this, he placed the pistol on his forehead.
And...
BANG.
The sound of the shot echoed, colliding with the ocean waves, as if time itself had stopped, as if the entire world had paused for a moment.
Now the man, who had been standing still until now, slowly knelt on the ground. There was a deep pain on his face, a pain that had pierced his strong personality. He placed his hand on the head of the wounded young man and said very slowly, his voice a promise, a final oath.
"You have been loyal. You have fulfilled your duty. Now this is my promise—I will protect your family from every hardship in this world. This is my word."
Was this just an end, or the beginning of a new story? Was this child, Neil, truly the heir to a lost empire? And who was this mysterious man who ran an empire from the shadows?
Neil lay unconscious on the old cot. His breathing was slow, but there was a strange glow and intensity on his face.
A few hours ago
Inside a large, magnificent mansion, the walls were high and the floors were marble. In the middle, a woman was kneeling on the ground, her tears flowing silently.
Shreya.
Her face was exhausted, but her eyes were stubborn. Her head rested on a bed where an old man sat, his back straight but his face grim.
"Shreya," he said in a slow but firm voice, "the decision the elders have made is final. We must send Neil away from here. And you know, we cannot go against the orders of the elders."
Shreya raised her head. There was a storm of anger and pain in her eyes. "No! This cannot be!" Her voice didn't tremble; it roared. "I will not let him go from here alone! He is my son! My blood! And I don't care who you are or who the 'elders' are!"
She continued, "Doesn't the one who gave birth to him have any right? Just because he is an 'heir,' will he be separated from his mother?"
A moment of silence passed. Then the man, with anger in his voice, stood up. "Shreya! Do you have any idea what you're saying? Are you calling 'Hukum Sa' and the other elders crazy? Come to your senses!"
His tone reflected discipline, but also a broken heart. "This decision was not easy. Not for you, and not for me. But what has been decided is only for Neil's well-being."
He came closer, leaned down, and said softly, "Sometimes being a mother doesn't just mean love, but also sacrifice."
Shreya's heart was broken. She said hesitantly, "Even so, I will not let him go. If he has to go, I will go with him."
"That can't happen. Listen and understand this very clearly," the man said, standing up and hiding his pain with a fake a
nger, and walked out of the room quickly.
To be continued.