(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...

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Even after witnessing those strange events, Vikrama did not ask his question immediately.

For several days he kept it to himself.

Part of him still resisted.

He had been raised in the royal palace, taught by learned gurus, and had spent his entire life worshipping the gods.

Asking a favor from an Asura felt wrong.

But another voice inside him kept whispering.

’Aren’t you the one who always wanted fairness?’

’Aren’t you the one who believes the throne should have been yours?’

’If the gods refused to hear you... why not seek someone who will?’

The conflict lasted only a few more days.

In the end...

His ambition proved stronger than his hesitation.

One evening, as the sun disappeared behind the forest, Vikrama approached the old tribal chief once again.

The elder was seated before the shrine of Pushpasura, feeding the sacred fire with fragrant herbs.

"Chief."

The old man slowly opened his eye.

"You have made your decision."

It wasn’t a question.

Vikrama gave a small nod.

"I wish to seek an audience with your lord."

The chief studied him silently.

After a long pause, he slowly rose to his feet.

"Then follow me."

The shrine stood deep within the forest where even the tribe rarely ventured without permission.

Unlike the grand temples dedicated to the Devas, this sanctuary was built entirely from rough black stone. Vines covered most of its walls, and strange symbols had been carved into every surface.

At the center stood a cracked stone altar.

Fresh flowers had been placed around it.

Flowers gathered from the sacred forests surrounding Mallikavana.

The old chief stopped before the altar.

"Our Lord does not grant wishes freely."

Vikrama listened carefully.

"Every desire carries a price."

"The greater the wish..."

"...the greater the sacrifice."

He pointed toward a small stone bowl resting beside the altar.

"Blood."

"Our Lord accepts blood as proof of resolve."

Then he pointed toward the basket filled with flowers.

"And these."

"The sacred flowers that keep Him imprisoned."

"They must be offered alongside the sacrifice."

"Our Lord delights in seeing His prison weakened."

Vikrama remained silent.

The chief continued explaining each ritual carefully.

How the flowers should be placed.

How the blood should be offered.

The words that had to be spoken.

The final prayer that invited Pushpasura’s attention.

Vikrama memorized every step without making a single mistake.

Finally...

The old chief handed him a live chicken.

The frightened bird struggled weakly in his hands.

"If your resolve is firm..."

"...begin."

Vikrama took a slow breath.

Then, without another thought, he drew a small ceremonial knife.

One swift motion.

The chicken’s blood spilled into the stone bowl before the altar.

The old chief immediately began chanting in an ancient language.

The flames of the altar suddenly burned darker.

The flowers placed around it trembled despite the complete absence of wind.

Vikrama folded his hands.

Closing his eyes, he spoke his wish aloud.

"I wish ...to become king."

He paused briefly.

"Even if only once."

The chanting suddenly stopped.

Silence filled the shrine.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The old chief’s body jerked violently.

His head lowered.

His breathing became uneven.

When he finally spoke...

It was no longer his own voice.

A deep, distorted voice emerged from his mouth.

It sounded ancient. Powerful.

Almost inhuman.

"The wish... shall be granted."

Vikrama’s heart began pounding.

"But..."

The voice continued.

"The offering is insufficient."

"The blood ...is too little."

"The sacrifice... too insignificant."

A long pause followed.

Finally... The voice declared,

"You shall become king."

"...not for an hour. Only ...for ten minutes."

The flames returned to normal.

The old chief staggered backward, breathing heavily.

After several moments he regained control over himself.

His single eye slowly focused upon Vikrama once again.

"It is done."

Vikrama frowned hearing it.

-Frown!

"...."

He still wasn’t entirely convinced.

The ritual had certainly been unusual.

But whether it truly possessed any power...

He wasn’t sure.

Thanking the chief, he borrowed one of the tribe’s horses and began riding back toward the royal hunting grounds.

After all... Several days had already passed.

The royal search parties would undoubtedly be looking for him.

By the time Vikrama reached the hunting camp, the entire area had descended into controlled chaos.

Soldiers rode in every direction.

Scouts prepared fresh horses.

Maps had been spread across temporary tables.

King Padmanabha Varman himself stood at the center, issuing orders.

"No forest path is to remain unchecked."

"If necessary, extend the search another twenty miles."

"We will not return until my brother is found."

Just then... One of the guards shouted.

"Your Majesty! Someone approaches!"

Every head turned.

Moments later, Vikrama rode into the camp.

Before he could even dismount...

Padmanabha Varman strode toward him.

The king’s face showed equal measures of relief and anger.

"You fool!"

He grabbed Vikrama by both shoulders.

"Where have you been?"

"We searched everywhere!"

"We found your horse."

"We found signs of a bear."

"I thought..."

The king stopped himself. His voice softened.

"I thought I had lost you."

For a brief moment... Vikrama almost felt guilty.

"I was attacked by a bear."

He answered truthfully.

"A nearby tribe saved me."

"They treated my injuries."

Padmanabha looked him over from head to toe before letting out a deep sigh.

"As long as you’re alive... nothing else matters."

Vikrama was about to reply.

Then...

A familiar voice echoed inside his mind.

Not through his ears.

Directly within his consciousness.

"Your wish begins."

His eyes widened.

The next instant...

King Padmanabha suddenly froze.

"...."

His expression twisted in pain.

His hand instinctively clutched his chest.

"...Brother..."

he whispered. Then he collapsed.

"Your Majesty!"

The entire camp erupted into panic.

Royal physicians rushed forward immediately.

The king struggled to breathe.

His heartbeat became dangerously irregular.

His face rapidly lost all color.

One physician looked up in horror.

"The Maharaja’s heart is failing!"

Another shouted,

"If the worst happens... the kingdom cannot remain leaderless!"

The Crown Prince was still a young child.

Far too young to rule.

The senior ministers immediately gathered together.

One of them spoke the words that forever changed Vikrama’s life.

"Until the Crown Prince comes of age..."

"...Prince Vikrama must ascend the throne."

Another nodded urgently.

"There is no other choice."

"The kingdom requires a king."

Within moments...

A ceremonial crown was brought forward.

Before the assembled nobles...

Before the generals... Before the royal army...

Vikrama Varman was declared acting king.

His hands trembled.

Not from fear. But from disbelief.

’It worked... It actually worked...’

He sat upon the ceremonial throne prepared inside the command pavilion.

The royal seal was placed before him.

Ministers bowed.

Generals saluted.

Every person present addressed him with a title he had dreamed of hearing for years.

"Your Majesty."

For ten glorious minutes...

He possessed everything he had ever desired.

Then...

Exactly ten minutes later...

King Padmanabha Varman suddenly inhaled sharply.

The unbearable pain vanished.

"...."

His heartbeat returned to normal.

Color flowed back into his face.

Confused, he slowly sat upright.

"...What happened?"

The physicians stared in complete disbelief.

"It... it is a miracle..."

As the rightful king still lived...

The temporary succession immediately ended.

The ceremonial crown was removed.

The royal seal returned to Padmanabha Varman.

Just like that...

Vikrama ceased to be king.

Exactly ten minutes after becoming one.

He should have been frustrated.

And part of him was.

But beneath that frustration... Something much greater was born.

Hope.

Because for the first time in his life...

He had undeniable proof.

Pushpasura had answered his prayer.

The impossible had become reality.

If a small sacrifice could make him king for ten minutes...

Then...

What could a greater sacrifice buy?

The festival grounds had grown even livelier by the time Devara and Shakuni returned to their merchant stall.

Children carrying flower garlands ran from one attraction to another while musicians filled the streets with cheerful melodies.

Merchants enthusiastically called out to customers, and the aroma of freshly prepared sweets drifted through the air.

Shakuni stretched his arms with a satisfied sigh.

"I didn’t expect walking around a festival could be this tiring."

Devara chuckled.

"You’ve spent more time admiring flower sculptures than actually walking."

"They were masterpieces."

"So was your expression while staring at them."

Shakuni cleared his throat.

"I was appreciating art."

"Naturally."

The two reached their tent.

However...

Both stopped at the same time.

Several royal soldiers stood outside their stall.

They weren’t causing trouble.

Nor were they searching the place.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Instead, they stood patiently with disciplined expressions, waiting for someone.

One of the soldiers noticed the approaching merchants.

"There."

"I believe that’s him."

The captain stepped forward respectfully.

"Which one among you is Merchant Deva?"

Devara casually pointed at himself.

"That unfortunate soul would be me."

The captain blinked.

"Merchant Deva?"

"The very same."

"You are certain?"

Devara looked behind himself dramatically.

"I don’t see another Deva around."

Shakuni quietly pinched the bridge of his nose.

"...."

The captain maintained a straight face despite the strange answer.

"Merchant Deva. You have been summoned."

Devara’s smile faded a little.

"Summoned? By whom?"

"The Queen."

Devara immediately looked behind himself again.

"...."

Then at Shakuni.

Then back at the captain.

"I hope you are absolutely certain."

The captain frowned.

-Frown!

"What do you mean?"

"I’ve only been in this kingdom for a few days."

"I haven’t borrowed money."

"I haven’t started any fights."

"I haven’t cheated anyone."

He paused thoughtfully.

"...At least not intentionally."

Shakuni coughed loudly.

-Cough!

The captain looked confused.

"No one accused you of any crime."

"Oh."

Devara placed a hand over his chest dramatically.

"You nearly frightened me."

"I thought someone had finally discovered I secretly eat more sweets than I pay for."

One of the younger soldiers failed to maintain his strict face.

The captain shot him a glance.

He immediately stood straight again.

The captain continued.

"Her Majesty specifically requested your presence."

"Immediately."

Devara looked genuinely puzzled now.

"The Queen wishes to meet... a humble merchant?"

The captain nodded.

"Those were Her Majesty’s orders."

Devara slowly turned toward Shakuni.

"I don’t remember selling anything to the Queen."

Shakuni folded his arms.

"You didn’t."

"I haven’t even spoken to her."

"You haven’t."

"I don’t know her."

"You don’t."

"Then..."

He looked back at the soldiers.

"...are you certain you have the correct merchant?"

The captain sighed patiently.

"We have already confirmed your identity."

"There is no mistake."

Devara remained thoughtful.

"Hmm..."

"Could this perhaps be about Princess Indhumati?"

Shakuni immediately looked at him.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"You sound very confident for someone who claims he did nothing."

"I truly did nothing."

Shakuni narrowed his eyes.

"You disappeared for almost an hour."

"I did."

"You returned covered in hay."

"I did."

"...Coincidence."

Shakuni stared at him silently.

"...."

Devara smiled innocently.

"Pure coincidence."

One of the soldiers finally became curious.

"What coincidece?"

"An innocent snake. It lived there. It became startled and run away."

The soldier looked even more confused than before.

"I... see."

Devara shook his head with a sigh.

Even the captain felt a headache beginning to form.

He decided not to ask any further questions.

"Merchant Deva. Her Majesty is waiting. Please accompany us."

Devara nodded politely.

"Very well."

He took a single step before suddenly stopping again.

"One important question."

The captain looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Will food be served?"

The captain blinked.

"...What?"

"I skipped lunch you know."

"If I’m going to be questioned, I’d rather not do it on an empty stomach."

Several soldiers exchanged helpless looks.

Shakuni quietly covered his face.

"Just walk."

"But what if they ask difficult questions?"

"Then answer them."

"I answer better after eating. They say wisdom comes after a full stomach."

The captain finally let out a defeated sigh.

"I cannot promise food."

"What a dangerous invitation."

Devara muttered.

"Very well. I shall bravely face this uncertain future."

"You make it sound like you’re marching to war."

Shakuni shook his head with a sigh.

"In some situations..."

Devara replied with complete seriousness,

"...meeting queens can be far more dangerous."

The captain decided it was best not to respond.

The small group began walking toward the royal encampment.

As they left the busy marketplace behind, the surroundings gradually changed.

Decorated festival stalls gave way to organized military formations.

Rows of royal tents stretched across the open field.

Elite soldiers patrolled every entrance with unwavering discipline.

Archers occupied elevated watch platforms overlooking the camp.

Even the horses were tethered in perfectly aligned rows.

Every visitor was carefully questioned before being allowed farther inside.

Devara looked around with genuine admiration.

"The security is impressive."

"It should be."

The captain replied proudly.

"The entire royal family is staying here."

Just then, another guard stopped the group.

"Halt."

He looked toward Devara.

"State your identity."

Before the captain could answer...

Devara folded his hands respectfully.

"I am Merchant Deva. I sell pots. I occasionally sell wooden spoons."

"I admire flowers."

"I fear bears."

"I avoid snakes whenever possible."

The guard stared at him.

"...I only asked your name."

"Oh."

"My apologies."

"I thought we were introducing ourselves properly."

Even the captain couldn’t stop the small smile that escaped him.

Shakuni simply shook his head.

"How does His Majesty manage to create conversations that never existed?"

After the formal verification was completed, the soldiers led Devara and Shakuni deeper into the royal camp.

As the magnificent central pavilion came into view, Devara smiled to himself.

"I wonder..."

he murmured softly.

"What does the Queen possibly want with a poor merchant?"

Shakuni glanced sideways.

"Knowing you well... I’m not sure I want to know."

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(Author note:)

I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea’s.

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