The heavy doors of the royal chamber crashed open, the sound echoing through the marble halls like thunder.
Dozens of soldiers flooded in, their armor clanking as torches flickered against polished steel. Leading them was King Raghunath, his face shadowed by anger and confusion.
Behind him stood Lady Damini, her expression composed, eyes gleaming faintly beneath her veil.
Queen Vasundhara did not flinch. She rose from her seat with quiet dignity, her silken sari flowing like moonlight across the marble floor.
"Where is the child?" the king demanded.
His voice carried the authority of a monarch — but also the uncertainty of a man already lost in his own doubts.
"In safe hands," Vasundhara said evenly.
The king's jaw tightened. "You defy me now, Vasundhara? You hide my heir?"
Vasundhara's eyes met his — steady, unyielding. "He is your heir, yes. But tonight, you do not speak as a father. You speak as a man poisoned by lies."
Damini stepped forward, lowering her eyes like a humble servant. "My lord, forgive me, but this… secrecy is what I feared. You see it now. Even after birth, she hides the boy from your sight."
The soldiers shifted uneasily.
Raghunath's hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "Enough," he growled. "Bring the child before me. I will see with my own eyes if this is my son… or a curse."
From behind a column, Dasi watched — the infant prince cradled in her arms. His tiny breaths were soft against her chest, unaware of the chaos that awaited him.
Her heart pounded as she crept toward the hidden passage behind the tapestry.
But before she could disappear, Vasundhara's voice cut through the room.
"You dare question my honor, Raghunath?" she said, her tone trembling with fury. "After all the years I have stood by your side, through war and drought — this is what your heart has become?"
The king's face twisted. "Do not turn this upon me, Vasundhara. The omens—"
"The omens?" She laughed bitterly. "Or Damini's whispers?"
A flicker of unease passed through his eyes. Damini lowered her gaze but allowed a tear to fall — perfectly timed, perfectly false.
"My queen," she murmured, "you wound me unjustly. I have only ever sought peace for Vyangadesh."
"Peace?" Vasundhara spat. "You plant poison in a king's ear and call it peace!"
The soldiers stirred, their loyalty torn between crown and conscience.
At that moment, thunder roared outside. The candles trembled, and a gust of wind swept through the chamber, making the silks flutter violently.
In that chaos, Dasi slipped through the passage, clutching the child close.
When the king turned again, the cradle was empty.
"Where is he?" His voice was a growl now, animalistic.
Vasundhara said nothing.
"WHERE IS THE CHILD?" he roared.
Still, she remained silent — until the guards moved toward her.
Then, with a motion swift as lightning, she drew the silver blade hidden beneath her robes.
The soldiers hesitated. They had seen the queen wield a weapon before; her stance — steady, grounded — spoke of someone who once stood beside the king in the wars before.
"You will not touch me," she said coldly. "Not while my blood still runs."
The first soldier lunged. Steel clashed with silk as Vasundhara parried, turning his blade aside and slashing across his arm. Another came — she dodged, spun, struck.
Her movements were graceful, deadly, but her body was weak from the birth of the prince. Sweat darkened her sari, and pain lanced through her abdomen with every swing.
Raghunath watched, torn between horror and disbelief. "Vasundhara, stop! You shame yourself before the gods!"
She turned her gaze upon him — and for a heartbeat, her fury softened into sorrow.
"The gods stopped watching long ago, Raghunath."
Damini's voice was a whisper behind him. "She has gone mad, my lord. End this… before she strikes you too."
Raghunath's grip tightened on his sword. His mind swirled — rage, guilt, confusion — until reason gave way to fear.
The bow of the royal guard was placed in his hand. He did not even remember asking for it.
Vasundhara's sword clattered to the ground. She sank to one knee, blood trickling down her arm, yet her eyes still burned with defiance.
She opened her mouth to speak — perhaps a plea, perhaps a curse — but before the words could leave her lips, the arrow flew.
It struck her squarely in the chest.
For a moment, she stood frozen — shock, pain, disbelief. Then she looked down at the crimson spreading across her white sari.
As her knees gave way, her fingers brushed the silver floor, leaving streaks of red that shimmered like rubies in torchlight.
Her final words came as a whisper, barely audible over the thunder:"May the sun judge you, Raghunath…"
Her body fell, the glow of life fading from her eyes.
Damini let out a soft gasp, hiding her smile behind trembling hands.The soldiers lowered their heads, silence filling the hall.
Outside, lightning flashed — and somewhere beyond the palace, a Dasi ran through the rain, clutching the true heir of Vyangadesh close to her chest.
The queen was dead.But her legacy… had just begun.