Maya lay upon the cold marble, pale as moonlight, fragile as a whisper that threatened to vanish at any moment. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, each one seeming to tug at the very strings of her soul. The hall that stretched above her, vast and glittering with chandeliers, felt unbearably heavy. Even the air had thickened, carrying the weight of something far older than grief — something the walls themselves leaned inward to witness.
The chandeliers swayed faintly, their fractured light scattering shards across the marble floor, as though the heavens themselves trembled at the sight of her stillness.
Rahi knelt at her side again . His hand hovered just above her shoulder, fingers trembling, unwilling to touch. His lips parted, but no sound came at first. His eyes swept the room.
Everywhere, silence.
The family, the guards, the servants — all frozen. None dared move. None dared even breathe too loudly.
Finally, Rahi's voice cut through the quiet, low and sharp as steel against glass.
"You don't understand."
The words echoed, soft but heavy, pulling every gaze toward him. The silence deepened, until the air itself seemed to strain under it.
"They think she is fragile because she does not scream," he said, his voice steady, gathering strength.
"They think she is broken because she is quiet. But what you see before you…"
His hand extended slightly toward Maya, her small figure lying beneath the fractured light.
"…is the strongest weapon this world has ever known and created ."
A ripple moved through the hall. Gasps, whispers, disbelief spreading like fire in dry fields.
"A… weapon?" Fahad's voice cracked, uncertain, caught between shock and denial.
"Yes," Rahi replied firmly. He rose to his feet slowly, his voice swelling to fill the hall. "They sought to create the perfect human. And in her, they succeeded."
The words rang out like judgment, slicing the silence apart.
"They thought they could erase will.
They thought they could own her.
Every cut, every poison, every broken bone — they believed was shaping obedience.
instead…...
They succesed "
His voice trembled, his eyes flickering back to Maya with a fire both sorrowful and enraged.
"…instead they forged the ultimate weapon."
The hall seemed to shrink, the marble echoing his words back like a drumbeat.
Mahi staggered forward, her sari whispering against stone. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, she is my child. My daughter. My blood. You cannot speak of her like this!"
Rahi's gaze softened only slightly, but he did not relent. "She is yours, yes. She is your daughter. But she is also more than that. Do you not see, Mahi? They stripped her of choice, carved her into silence, reduced her to nothing but a number. And they…"
His voice broke briefly, then hardened again.
"…she endured. She survived horrors no human should. Every scar, every injection, every command she defied — they tried to break her. But, they created something they could not contain."
Naya stumbled, her hand clutching the edge of a pillar for support. Her voice quivered as she spoke: "But look at her… look at her! She is so small. She can barely breathe. How can you say she is the stronger then all of us?"
"Small?" Rahi's voice turned sharp.
"Fragility is an illusion they forced upon her. Stillness is not weakness — it is control. Silence is not emptiness — it is discipline. And endurance…"
He let the word hang, heavy as stone.
"…endurance is the deadliest weapon of all."
A murmur stirred among the guards. Their armor shifted as they glanced at one another. Some bowed their heads. Others stiffened, unsure whether they stood in the presence of a child or a storm waiting to break.
Fahim's fists clenched, his voice rising in desperate protest. "Rahi, stop! Stop this madness! You make her sound like she is no longer human. She is not a weapon. She is our sister. She is Maya!"
"She is Maya yes... She is mayabini ," Rahi answered, eyes blazing. "But she is also more. She is what pain has forged. They thought they built obedience. But in truth… they built war."
His words struck like lightning.
Farhan's voice, softer, almost childlike, whispered: "But why her? Why did they choose her?"
Rahi's jaw tightened. "Because they sought perfection. They believed that by drowning a soul in suffering, they could erase resistance. They thought pain would silence will. But suffering only sharpened her.
Every command she obeyed was training.
Every silence she kept was resistance.
Every wound she endured was a lesson.
They believed they were forging a tool. But they were wrong. They forged a blade too sharp to wield."
Mahim, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. His jaw was clenched, his voice iron-hard, but his hands betrayed their tremor.
"Then tell me plain, Rahi. Is she dangerous?"
The hall stilled, as though even the chandeliers paused their swaying.
Rahi turned his gaze toward him, and his answer fell like a hammer.
"She is not dangerous. She is danger. Because they built her to obey… and she chose not to. That is her power. That is why they failed. That is why she is free."
A chill swept through the servants at the edges of the hall. One of them made the sign of protection, whispering a prayer under her breath. Another dropped his gaze, unwilling to look upon Maya's still form any longer.
Rahi knelt again, lowering himself to the floor beside her. His hand hovered once more above her gloved fingers, trembling. His voice softened, but it carried through every corner of the hall.
"She does not scream because she chooses not to.
She does not obey because she will not.
She is not broken.
She is whole.
Whole in ways they cannot understand.
And that makes her the deadliest thing they ever created."
He paused, then whispered the words that struck them all like a curse, like a prophecy.
"She is the rose of death."
The chandeliers above trembled violently, scattering fractured light across the marble floor. The shadows along the walls stretched long and sharp, as if the hall itself recoiled.
Mahi gasped, stumbling backward. "Rahi… no. Do not call her that. She is not death. She is life—she is my daughter!"
Rahi's eyes burned. "She is both. The rose blooms, but it blooms with thorns. Beauty and death in one. That is what they made of her. That is what she became when she refused to bend."
Naya collapsed to her knees, sobbing softly. "Then what do we do? How do we protect her? How do we keep her safe from … from herself?"
Rahi's voice was firm, unyielding.
"You do not protect her with chains.
You do not protect her with silence.
You protect her with choice.
She is no one's possession.
She belongs only to herself.
That is her freedom."
Mahim's voice cracked, though he tried to hold it steady. "And if someone tries again? If someone dares to cage her?"
Rahi's gaze darkened, his words heavy as iron.
"Then they will face the weapon they could not break.
They will bleed from the thorns of the rose they thought harmless.
And they will curse the day they ever tried to own her."
Mahi fell beside Maya, clutching her hand. Her voice was soft, broken, pleading.
"Sweetheart… wake for us. Please. Please, open your eyes. Come back to me."
Fahad stepped forward, voice strained, desperate. "If she is truly what you say, Rahi, then why does she not rise? Why does she lie there still as stone?"
Rahi bowed his head. "Because even a weapon must choose when to strike. She is not asleep. She is waiting. She is remambering ."
Farhan whispered shakily: "And what if… what if she does not choose us?"
The hall grew colder. Silence pressed in from all sides.
Rahi closed his eyes, his hand finally brushing against Maya's shoulder. His voice was low, steady, but thick with emotion.
"Then we accept her choice. Even if it breaks us. Even if it destroys us. Because she has earned that right. Every breath she takes is her victory against everything .
We do not command her. We stand beside her. That is how we protect her. That is how we love her."
The wind moaned against the marble walls, a low, haunting sound, like fate itself speaking.
And still, Maya did not stir.
She lay silent, fragile yet......
A rose not yet bloomed, a storm not yet released.
The weapon they could not break.