As time passed, the heat grew more intense. The cave was faintly lit because of it, casting trembling shadows along the rocky walls. I moved deeper inside, not willing to burn myself again.
There, I sat on a low stone, trying to piece together everything — from the moment I arrived here till now. But it was impossible to connect it all. Everything was just too overwhelming. A strange fury burned inside me, a wild urge to turn the whole universe into ashes.
I had never felt so helpless before. For the first time, I wished to escape a situation… but couldn’t.
Sitting there, I stared at the dark, cold walls of the cave. I knew this wasn’t the end — and it was never going to be easy. His words still echoed in my mind: “This is Earth, and I am human.”
That could only mean one thing — I was in danger. Somehow, I had to escape this place before she or any of her agents found me. There would be no justice. Without a hearing, I’d be sentenced to a lifetime of punishment — something I cannot, and will not, accept.
I still remember the last time I came to Earth… and when she caught me. Her wrath was more terrifying than death itself. That day — that cursed day — remains the worst I’ve ever lived. The humans of Earth, and then her… non-human yet far more ruthless. They turned my world into a living nightmare within moments.
Even now, the memory sends shivers down my spine. The fear has rooted deep within me — and feeling it again today can only mean one thing: trouble is near.
It was dark that day too.
I was wandering aimlessly, lost in the beauty around me. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, soothing and gentle. A sweet, intoxicating aroma filled the air, and the whole field shimmered with white flowers glowing under the silver light of the moon.
I twirled and swirled around like a child lost in wonder — until I reached the edge of the field. That’s when I heard it — a loud, painful scream tearing through the still night. It came from the forest nearby.
Curiosity… or maybe instinct… pulled me toward the sound. But the deeper I went, the darker it became. The silence felt heavy, the air colder. My steps trembled, yet I kept moving forward, heart pounding with every sound that echoed between the trees.
Then, I stumbled — hard — and fell. The ground beneath me felt sticky. When I tried to get up, something faint caught my eye — a flicker of light in the distance. I rushed toward it.
And then I froze.
Before me was a scene I’ll never forget — a group of figures cloaked in black surrounding a fragile woman. They were mercilessly striking her, again and again. Each blow drew a scream that ripped through the night.
Then, someone stepped from behind and hit her — hard. I couldn’t see who it was. Her body collapsed against the sticky earth.
For a brief moment, her eyes found mine. There was terror… but also something else — a plea. Her lips moved, whispering words too faint to hear.
I clutched my pendant — the source of my power, the one thing that obeyed my will. I focused, desperate to hear her last words.
And then they reached me — a soft, broken whisper carried by the wind:
“Mere bache ko bacha lo…”. Save my child.
I tried to help her.
But just as I took a step forward, a voice called out from behind — her voice.
The moment it reached me, every cell in my body froze. I knew that voice. It was she. I was terrified, unable to move, yet I dared not disobey. Gathering every ounce of courage, I turned around.
And there she was — Swetdhara (स्वेतधरा) — my godmother, my queen.
Her presence was enough to bend the air around her. I couldn’t meet her eyes. I could feel her anger — sharp, divine, suffocating. She looked furious enough to swallow me whole.
Before I could speak, before I could even explain, her hand shot forward. She clutched my arm with a grip so fierce that pain shot through my veins like fire. And then, without a word, she took me — soaring upward into the sky.
I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. The pain was unbearable, yet I knew if I cried out, her grip might crush my arm entirely.
As we ascended, something caught my eye — down below, between jagged, black rocks, a small child was trapped. He was crying, reaching toward the stars. My heart clenched. I touched my pendant again, desperate to hear him.
Through sobs and trembling lips, his voice reached me:
“Maa… aap kahan ho? Maa… mujhe chhod kar mat jao…”
(Mother, where are you? Don’t leave me…)
That was the last thing I heard — his voice fading as we pierced through the clouds.
The next moment, I found myself standing in the grand court of my queen.
The blinding light faded slowly, and my vision adjusted to the brilliance of the royal court. The floor shimmered with liquid crystal, and silver flames danced along the tall columns carved from moonstone. The air was cold — too cold. My knees trembled as I tried to steady myself.
She stood before her throne — tall, radiant, terrifying. Her aura alone could silence a storm. The silver crown on her head glowed faintly, and her long white robes rippled without wind. Her eyes, however — they were the real fire.
“You disobeyed me, again.”
Her voice was calm, but it struck like thunder inside my skull. I bowed immediately, pressing my forehead to the ground.
“I… I didn’t mean to, My Queen,” I stammered. “There was a woman— she was—”
“Silence!”
The word ripped through the air, and every torch around us flared brighter for an instant. My body froze, unable to breathe.
“You interfered with their realm,” she said, stepping closer. “After you were forbidden. You swore never to cross the veil again. Yet you went. Why?”
She screamed. Again and again.
And I stood there, rooted against my will — unable to move, unable to defend myself. Every word that left her mouth struck like a blade.
I wanted to run — far away from her sight, away from her anger, away from everything that was tearing me apart. But this was not a court of hearing. I would not be given a chance to speak for myself, nor would anyone here dare to speak for me.
Her voice drained me of all strength. My body felt hollow, my mind numb. When she finally stopped, she sank back into her throne. I looked up at her — at the one I once called my godmother.
Her eyes met mine, cold and unyielding.
Could she not see the pain behind them? Could she not feel what I was feeling right now?
And then, the moment came. She declared my punishment.
Her words felt less like justice and more like an insult — a deliberate humiliation. One of her agents stepped forward. I removed my pendant and placed it in the golden casket before me. The jewels that once adorned me — symbols of my royal lineage — were stripped away one by one.
My attire dissolved into nothingness, replaced by a plain white fabric that wrapped around me from chest to ankle. I stood bare of power, bare of pride.
Then, I was ordered to walk through the great hall of Chiryut Mahal. Each step echoed through the silence — a farewell to everything I once was.
At the palace gates, they commanded me to descend into the sacred lake — the ritual of surrender, the act of renouncing all power and divine rights.
For a fleeting moment, I wished I could summon death instead. It would have been far kinder than this humiliation.
Still, I obeyed. I stepped into the cold, shimmering waters, feeling my strength drain with every breath. Behind me, the grand doors of Chiryut Mahal closed — sealing my fate.
I was banished. Condemned to a thousand years of imprisonment.
At the age when I should have been preparing to become the next queen of my realm…
I was stripped of everything — for a crime I never committed.
That era of punishment — I could never forget it. Its scars still burn somewhere deep inside me.
A small flickering light pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked, realizing I was still in the cave, waiting for the heat outside to fade. The light shimmered again, gentle yet persistent, dancing just ahead of me.
It looked familiar — like the ones that glowed around those beautiful white flowers long ago. Without thinking, I followed it.
The deeper I went, the narrower and darker the cave became. The air grew cold, the silence louder. But my curious nature — the same one that always led me into trouble — pushed me forward, determined to find where it led.
And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the light vanished — slipping into one of the tiny holes scattered across the rocky walls.
I stopped, staring into the darkness. What now? It was too dark to see anything. Darkness — my oldest nightmare — wrapped around me again.
Not wanting to face it any longer, I turned to retrace my steps… but before I could, thousands of flickering lights burst out from the holes all at once.
They swirled around me — tiny, glowing spirits, spinning in patterns too beautiful to understand. “They came out of those holes?” I whispered in disbelief.
The lights began drifting toward the deeper end of the cave, in the direction opposite the entrance. And, almost instinctively, I followed them.
The tunnel finally widened, and what I saw at the end left me breathless.
The cave opened into the sky — vast and painted in hues of blue melting into gold. The sun was setting, its orange glow spreading across the horizon as darkness slowly conquered the land once again.
I stepped out, standing at the edge of the cave. The world on this side was nothing like the one I had entered from — wild, endless, and strange.
For the first time in ages… it felt like the universe was calling me toward something new.
I stepped out and began tracing my way along the meadow. The slope stretched downward, soft and inviting. Going down felt effortless — almost playful — as if the earth itself was carrying me along.
The night sky above was unlike anything I had seen in ages. Earth’s sky — so beautiful, so mysterious. Dotted with countless stars, it glimmered like scattered diamonds, their faint light blessing the ground beneath. It was… magical.
For a while, I simply let myself breathe. I sat down in the middle of the meadow, the tall grass swaying gently around me, and lifted my gaze toward the endless night.
How could something so peaceful exist in a world that once terrified me?
For that brief moment, I forgot my punishment, my fear, even her wrath. There was only silence, starlight, and the quiet beating of my heart.
I closed my eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over me. It felt soothing — like it was healing the pain buried deep inside. For the first time in so long, I allowed myself to just breathe.
Then, I felt something brush against my neck. It tickled.
I brushed it away, thinking it was just a stray leaf. But then it happened again. And again — the third time stronger, more deliberate.
“Uff…” I groaned, irritated, turning around to see what it was— And then I froze.
“What the hell is this?!” I screamed, my voice echoing through the meadow.
My body went cold. Instinct made me step back — slow, trembling steps — while the creature in front of me crept closer. Its movements were silent, its shape unclear in the moonlight.
My mind went blank. Without thinking, I turned and ran.
Branches whipped against my face as I sprinted down the slope, heart hammering, breath ragged. Nothing mattered anymore — not the stars, not the night, not even the punishment. Only survival.
When I thought I had escaped, I stopped to catch my breath — gasping, trembling. But I was wrong.
A sharp sound came from behind me. It was close. Too close.
I could feel it now — its breath, its presence, its sniffing. My legs shook uncontrollably. I staggered backward, facing it, terrified.
And then — there was no ground beneath me.
I fell.
The wind roared in my ears as I plunged downward, helpless. I didn’t know what waited below — only that the world had vanished beneath my feet.
Then came the impact — cold, crushing water. I tried to swim, to breathe, but the current pulled me under. My limbs grew heavy. My lungs screamed. Darkness crept in at the edges of my sight.
Just before I lost consciousness, I felt something — strong arms, or maybe a force — gripping me tight, fighting the current.
Moments later, I was on the ground, gasping, coughing water, trying to fill my lungs again.
Alive. But barely.
For a few moments, I stared into nothingness, my mind blank. Then, slowly, I tried to sit up.
“Tum mera peecha kar rahi ho?” That voice — annoying, smug, unmistakable.
It was him. That human.
The greatest headache of my existence.
I rolled my eyes and shot him a glare.
“No,” I spat, brushing the dirt off my hands. “I have better things to do.”
He raised an eyebrow, that irritating half-smile on his face, but I ignored it. Pushing myself to my feet, I started walking — anywhere, everywhere, just away from him.
I had no idea where I was. The forest stretched endlessly, unfamiliar and silent. But asking him for help? That would only invite more trouble. More danger.
So I kept walking — pretending I knew where I was going, while knowing deep inside… I was lost.
I walked ahead, ignoring the sound of footsteps behind me.
But I could hear them — steady, unbothered. He was following me.
I ignored him and kept walking. We must have covered a long distance before he finally decided to speak.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Away from you,” I replied flatly.
“Ohh…” he said, that mocking tone back in his voice. “But this path leads to my home.”
I stopped. Slowly, I turned to face him.
I wanted to scream — to throw something, anything — just to wipe that smirk off his face. What an absolute waste of breath.
We stared at each other for what felt like forever, the silence heavy between us.
Then he spoke again.
“Tell me where you live. I’ll help you reach your home.”
His words sounded almost genuine — but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe them.
“I don’t need help,” I muttered. “At least not from a human.”
Ignoring him once more, I walked along the same path. But when I reached the end, I realized — it led me right back to where I had started.
A sigh escaped my lips. My legs felt weak; I couldn’t stand anymore. I was tired — of walking, of arguing, of everything.
Frustrated, I looked back.
He was gone. Just like that — vanished.
“Unbelievable,” I whispered bitterly. “He offers help and disappears. These humans never keep their word.”
I let myself fall onto the grass, staring blankly at the open field. The silence settled around me again, soft but heavy.
My eyes traced the landscape — tall grass swaying in the breeze, the cave standing silent in the middle, and the other side barren, rocky, and rough.
Then I noticed the river — slow, silent, peaceful. The same one I had fallen into only hours ago.
A small, tired laugh escaped me. How strange life had become.
I laid back, inhaled deeply, and closed my eyes. My body felt heavy — exhausted beyond words. Soon, sleep engulfed me like a wave.
When I woke, a sharp pain throbbed through my head. I winced and slowly opened my eyes.
He was there — sitting by the river, his back facing me.
I shifted slightly to see him better. His legs were dipped in the cool water, eyes closed, hands resting on his knees. The moonlight traced along his skin, making him almost glow.
I straightened myself, held my breath, and decided to ruin his moment of peace.
“Kon ho tum?” I asked.
Without turning, he replied smoothly,
“Wahi, jiska aap intezaar kar rahi thi.”
I frowned. “I don’t wait for anyone.”
“No problem,” he said lightly, as if assuring me instead of arguing.
“Chiryut Mahal. I live there,” I said, still watching his back. “Can you take me there?”
This time, he turned to face me.
His expression shifted — was that shock? Surprise? Confusion?
I couldn’t tell.
He stared right into my eyes, as if searching for something.
Then he asked again, slowly,
“Chiryut Mahal? You live there?”
I stumbled over my words.
“Y–ye… yes. I live there.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments. His eyes carried something unspoken — curiosity? Fear? I couldn’t read him.
Finally, he nodded slightly and said, “Alright. I’ll take you there.”
A wave of relief washed through me, though I didn’t let it show. I just crossed my arms and looked away.
He made a gesture with his eyes — something subtle I couldn’t quite understand — and then asked,
“Do you want to go now, or will you wait?”
“Why would I wait?” I asked, my tone sharp, my face tense.
“It’s going to be day soon,” he said softly, almost warning me.
“Day? What’s that?” I asked, confused.
He looked at me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether I was serious. Then he said,
“Day — when the sun rises, when the sky fills with light again. The earth shines under its warmth, the darkness fades, and people return to their lives.”
I blinked. His words made no sense to me.
Light? Sun? People?
What world was he talking about?
“I want to go back to my home. Right now,” I said, my tone more like a command than a request.
He got up, and I followed. A little ahead, two horses roamed freely — one brown, the other a milky white.
He turned to look at me, gesturing something with his hand — again, something I couldn’t understand.
He must have noticed my blank expression because he finally spoke,
“Choose one. We’ll need them to find your home.”
I looked at the horses, then back at him. “We can’t go to Chiryut Mahal on a horse,” I said, half scoffing.
“We can,” he replied simply — and moved forward
I stared at him, utterly surprised. Is he really this stubborn? Can’t he just listen once?
But then I remembered — this mannerless human carried the Three Black Weapons.
I didn’t trust him, but I trusted those weapons.
So, gathering the scattered pieces of my puzzled self, I decided to follow him without another question. I stepped forward and chose the brown horse.
He mounted the white one, gave a short whistle, and in a flash, his horse charged ahead.
I followed like a fool, my brown horse galloping after him. For once, I stopped thinking — just let the wind rush past me. The air tore against my face, and the world blurred around me.
He might be arrogant, but I couldn’t deny it — this horse was strong, powerful, alive.
We rode fast — too fast — slicing through the night, covering vast stretches of land in what felt like moments.
As we charged ahead, I felt the night sky fade — light was once again reclaiming its reign.
“Not again…” I muttered, the irritation in my voice barely hiding my helplessness.
I had to go back — back to the cave. It was the only place that could protect me.
I tried turning my horse around, but it refused to move against its master’s will. Panic crept in. My eyes welled up as the memory of those burning rays flashed before me — how they had once pierced through my entire being.
This time, I tried calling out to him — shouting over the rushing wind — but my voice was swallowed by the galloping thunder beneath us. The horses were too fast, too wild for words to reach.
I could already feel my body draining, the warmth of daylight crawling closer. Within moments, the golden light spread across the entire sky. The pain returned — sharp, searing — tearing me apart from within.
I couldn’t take it anymore. My bones felt weak, my breath vanished, and the world blurred into white. Then — a fall.
A hard thud.
And nothing but silence.
When I opened my eyes again, it was dark once more. The sky shimmered with stars and a pale, comforting moon. I felt my energy surge back, every wound gone — not a single mark left behind.
But… where was I?
I pushed myself up, my head spinning, and looked around. The horses grazed peacefully nearby — calm, unlike their master.
I turned — and froze.
He was standing there. Too close. Way too close. Just an inch apart.
My heart skipped a beat, but knowing it was him, I quickly stepped back, fighting the urge to shove him away.
“We should go,” he said curtly, his voice firm. “Before this night ends.”
He turned and walked toward his horse, mounting it with effortless grace.
For a moment, I just stared at him. This behavior — this cold, commanding tone — reminded me of her.
My godmother.
They were the same.
Deciding everything, without ever listening to anyone.
Ruling, not leading.
What was the difference between the two?
I said nothing. Just swallowed my thoughts, mounted the horse, and followed silently.
Once again, we rode into the night — towards my home.
I couldn't remember which direction we had taken or how many landscapes we'd passed. We traveled too far. Time flowed and the next thing I knew, we stopped before a grand door. Someone peered at us through a small window; the door swung open with a loud creak. He went in and I followed. The horses were calm and gentle. The place felt strangely warm.
We walked through a vast entrance that opened into a courtyard bathed in golden light. People lined the path, tossing flower petals as we passed. We kept moving until he halted and slid off his horse. I followed his lead and dismounted. He stepped forward and I trailed behind him.
A group of women stood waiting — perhaps to welcome him. He approached the woman in the center and stopped. She held something in her hand; I couldn't tell what it meant. He bent and touched her feet. Should I do the same? I wondered.
He moved aside to give me room. Their eyes turned to me; I stared back, helpless and puzzled. I looked at him for a hint. He only gestured with his eyes toward the middle woman.
So I moved forward, took a few steps, and bent down to touch her feet. She placed her palm over mine and whispered, “Ayushmati bhava.”
They watched me with curious eyes. I returned the stare, equally unsure. A young girl beside the central woman asked, “Who are you?”
Was I nervous? Maybe. I glanced at him. He was smiling — really smiling in a moment like this. Human or not, his smile made me want to throttle him.
He nudged me with his voice, “Tell them — who are you?”
I clenched my jaw. Could I really reveal my identity to a line of strangers? I thought of the punishments, the court, the pendant I’d surrendered. I swallowed the urge to refuse and forced my voice out.
“Shivali. My name… I am queen.”
Write a comment ...