(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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The cheerful atmosphere that had filled the tent only moments ago disappeared in an instant.

Just a heartbeat earlier, Princess Indhumati had been standing beside them with a gentle smile on her face.

Then, without any warning, her footsteps came to a sudden halt.

Her eyes widened as though she had sensed something that no one else could perceive.

The color drained from her face, and her body began to sway.

Before anyone could react, she started falling backward.

Fortunately, Devara’s instincts as a warrior took over before his mind could even process what was happening.

Even though he had been joking with Shakuni only moments ago, his body moved on its own.

He stepped forward and caught the princess before she could collapse onto the floor.

"Princess!"

Queen Devaki’s horrified voice echoed through the tent.

"...."

She hurried forward without caring about royal decorum, while the prince rushed over from the other side, his face pale with fear.

"Indhumati!" he called anxiously. "Can you hear me?"

The princess was unable to answer.

Her chest rose and fell violently as she struggled to breathe.

Each breath sounded painfully labored, as though an invisible force was squeezing her lungs from within.

Her fingers curled tightly around Devara’s arm before slowly losing their strength, while her entire body trembled uncontrollably.

The laughter that had filled the corridor moments ago had vanished completely.

Devara’s expression became frighteningly serious.

"...."

His gaze swept over the princess, searching for the cause of her sudden condition.

Then...

His eyes narrowed.

Dark veins.

Thin black veins had begun appearing beneath Indhumati’s fair skin.

They pulsed unnaturally, spreading through her body like streams of black ink flowing beneath glass.

What disturbed Devara the most was not their appearance.

It was the energy flowing within them.

He could clearly sense that it did not belong to the princess.

It was a foreign force.

An invasive presence that had forced its way into her body.

The corruption spread at an alarming speed, branching through her veins with every passing heartbeat.

Even someone as composed as Devara found the sight unsettling.

It was unlike any poison he had encountered.

It felt... alive.

As though someone from a distant place was continuously pouring dark spiritual energy into the princess’s body.

"My daughter..."

Queen Devaki whispered, her voice trembling.

"What is happening to her?"

The prince quickly stepped forward.

"I’ll carry her to the royal physician!"

As he reached out to lift his sister, Devara immediately raised his hand, stopping him.

"Don’t."

The prince froze.

Both he and Queen Devaki looked toward Devara in confusion.

For the first time since entering the palace, there wasn’t the slightest trace of a smile on his face.

His eyes remained fixed on the black veins spreading beneath Indhumati’s skin.

After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke.

"...."

"...I know what this is."

Queen Devaki immediately stepped closer.

"You know?"

She asked desperately.

"Then tell me! What is happening to my daughter?"

Devara remained silent for a brief moment before answering in a grave tone.

"This is neither an illness nor an ordinary poison."

He looked at the Queen directly.

"Someone has used Tantra against Princess Indhumati."

The words struck everyone present like a bolt of lightning.

Shakuni’s expression stiffened.

"...."

The prince stared at Devara in disbelief.

Queen Devaki’s face turned pale.

"Tantra...?" she whispered.

Devara nodded slowly.

-Nod!

"This isn’t the sacred knowledge practiced by enlightened sages."

"It is the darker side of that knowledge if not used with good intension."

"A forbidden ritual capable of harming a person from afar by using spiritual energy as its medium."

His gaze returned to the princess, whose breathing continued to grow weaker.

"The force invading Princess Indhumati’s body was not born within her."

"It was sent. Someone... somewhere ...is deliberately attacking her through Tantra."

The cries of the attendants drew the attention of every nearby guard, and within moments, dozens of soldiers came rushing toward the tent with their weapons already drawn.

At that very moment, King Padmanabha Varma, who had just finished discussing the arrangements for the festival with his ministers, was on his way back to the Queen’s tent.

Hearing the panicked shouts, a sense of foreboding gripped his heart.

Without waiting for anyone to explain, he hurried forward and pushed aside the entrance curtain.

The sight before him froze him in place.

Princess Indhumati was lying in Devara’s arms, her body trembling violently as dark veins pulsed beneath her pale skin. Her breathing had become shallow, each breath more painful than the last.

The King’s face instantly changed.

"Indhumati!"

His voice echoed throughout the tent as he instinctively drew his sword.

The surrounding guards reacted without hesitation.

The sharp sound of steel leaving its scabbard filled the air as every blade was pointed directly at Devara.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Even Shakuni instinctively stepped closer to his brother-in-law, prepared to intervene if the situation spiraled out of control.

Despite the dozens of weapons aimed at him, Devara remained completely calm.

He did not even bother looking at the soldiers surrounding him.

His attention never left the unconscious princess.

"I am not your enemy, Your Majesty,"

He said in a steady voice.

"Had I intended to harm the Princess, I would not have caught her before she fell."

Before the King could respond, Queen Devaki rushed forward.

Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, she threw herself into her husband’s embrace, tears flowing uncontrollably.

"My Lord..."

"Our daughter..."

Her voice trembled as she struggled to compose herself.

"Someone... someone has used Tantra on Indhumati."

The words struck the King like a thunderbolt.

His expression darkened instantly.

The warmth in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a chilling fury.

"...Tantra?"

The atmosphere inside the royal tent became suffocating.

No one dared utter another word.

Meanwhile, Devara continued examining the Princess without paying attention to the weapons still pointed at him.

His sharp eyes carefully traced the movement of the black veins spreading beneath Indhumati’s skin.

Something wasn’t right.

The corruption wasn’t spreading randomly throughout her body.

It was moving outward from a single point.

His gaze slowly traveled down her arm until it stopped at a tiny scratch near her wrist.

The moment he saw it, his pupils contracted.

His mind immediately recalled the incident from earlier that day.

When they had first entered the Queen’s tent, Princess Indhumati had accidentally bumped into her uncle, the King’s younger brother and Mahamantri, Vikrama Varma.

The sharp edge of the Mahamantri’s signet ring had grazed her wrist, leaving behind what everyone had assumed was nothing more than a minor scratch.

Now...

Every strand of the dark corruption appeared to originate from that very wound.

Devara’s expression turned grave.

"...."

He immediately lifted his head and looked toward King Padmanabha Varma.

"Your Majesty."

The urgency in his voice caused everyone inside the tent to look at him.

"You must send your guards to the Mahamantri’s tent immediately."

The King frowned.

"What are you saying?"

"Capture Vikrama Varma before he has the opportunity to leave."

Devara gently raised the Princess’s wrist, allowing everyone to see the tiny wound.

"This injury occurred earlier when the Princess accidentally collided with the Mahamantri."

He pointed toward the dark veins spreading beneath her skin.

"The Tantra wasn’t directly cast upon her."

"It needed a medium."

"This wound became that medium."

"The corrupted energy is flowing outward from this mark."

He looked directly into the King’s eyes.

"There is a high probability that the Mahamantri is involved in this attack."

Silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Not a single person inside the tent dared breathe.

The accusation was so shocking that even the guards exchanged uncertain glances.

King Padmanabha Varma stared at the small scratch on his daughter’s wrist before lifting his gaze toward Devara.

His expression hardened.

"You ask me to believe..."

he said slowly,

"...that my own younger brother has done this?"

His voice grew colder with each passing word.

"Vikrama Varma is not only my brother."

"He is the Mahamantri of this kingdom."

"He has stood beside me through every triumph and every hardship."

"He has remained loyal to the throne without fail."

The King’s eyes locked onto Devara.

"And now..."

"...a man who introduced himself as nothing more than a travelling merchant dares to level such a grave accusation against him?"

His grip around his sword tightened.

"Do you understand the seriousness of your words?"

"I will not order the arrest of my Mahamantri based on mere suspicion."

"If you possess proof, present it."

"Otherwise... do not expect me to betray the trust of my own brother because of an accusation alone."

An uneasy silence lingered inside Queen Devaki’s tent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Neither Devara nor King Padmanabha Varma was willing to yield.

One stood firm because he trusted his judgment.

The other refused to believe that the brother who had stood beside him throughout his life could betray both the kingdom and his own blood.

The tense stalemate was finally broken by the Crown Prince.

He stepped forward, his expression resolute as his eyes moved from his unconscious sister to the tiny wound on her wrist.

The sight of the black veins spreading from that single scratch was enough to make a decision.

"Father!"

His voice cut through the silence.

King Padmanabha Varma turned toward his son.

"We do not have the luxury of debating this."

"If Merchant Deva is wrong, Uncle Vikrama will lose nothing more than a few moments of his time."

"But if he is right..."

The Crown Prince glanced at Indhumati, whose condition was worsening with every passing breath.

"...then every moment we waste brings my sister closer to death."

The King’s expression faltered ever so slightly.

"...."

Without waiting for permission, the Crown Prince turned toward the guards standing outside the tent.

"You!"

The soldiers immediately straightened.

"Ride to the Mahamantri’s tent at once."

"Bring Mahamantri Vikrama Varma before the King immediately."

"If he refuses..."

The prince’s voice became noticeably colder.

"...escort him here by force."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

The guards struck their fists against their chests in salute before rushing out of the royal tent.

Their armored footsteps quickly disappeared into the night.

Meanwhile...

At the far end of the royal encampment...

Inside the lavishly decorated tent belonging to Mahamantri Vikrama Varma...

A sinister ritual had reached its final stage.

The luxurious furnishings that usually adorned the tent had been pushed aside.

Ancient symbols, drawn in a crimson substance, covered the ground in intricate circles.

At the center of those circles stood a blazing fire pit.

The flames burned an unnatural shade of dark crimson.

Around it stood several tribal shamans, their bodies covered in ash and ritual markings.

Their deep chants reverberated throughout the enclosed tent as they continued invoking an ancient and forbidden power.

One of the tribesmen slowly stepped forward.

Resting upon his palm was a single drop of fresh blood that had been collected from the sharp edge of a golden ring.

The very same ring that had grazed Princess Indhumati’s wrist earlier that day.

Without hesitation, the shaman allowed the blood to fall into the blazing fire.

Hissss...

The flames erupted violently.

Black smoke rose toward the ceiling before twisting into the shape of a monstrous face.

The chanting grew louder.

The oppressive aura inside the tent became so heavy that even breathing felt difficult.

Standing just outside the ritual circle, Vikrama Varma watched everything unfold with barely concealed anticipation.

His hands were clasped tightly behind his back.

His breathing had become noticeably quicker.

"Just a little longer..."

His eyes gleamed with greed.

"Once the ritual is complete..."

"...Pushpasura will keep his promise."

His lips slowly curved into a smile devoid of warmth.

"Indhumati will die."

"The royal bloodline will fall into chaos."

"And with Padmanabha and the prince broken by grief..."

"The throne of this kingdom will finally become mine."

His gaze remained fixed upon the dark flames dancing within the fire pit.

"Everything I have waited for... will finally be within my grasp."

Outside the Mahamantri’s tent...

The group of royal guards sent by the Crown Prince finally arrived.

The captain stepped forward confidently.

"Halt."

The guards stationed outside the entrance immediately lowered their spears, blocking the way.

"The Mahamantri is engaged in private matters."

The captain frowned.

"I come bearing the King’s summons."

"His Majesty commands Mahamantri Vikrama Varma to present himself before Queen Devaki’s tent immediately."

"The matter concerns Princess Indhumati."

The guards exchanged subtle glances.

"...."

"...."

"...."

None of them moved.

The captain’s expression darkened.

"Did you not hear me?"

"This is a direct royal command."

One of the guards slowly tightened his grip around his spear.

"We heard."

"But the Mahamantri is not to be disturbed."

The captain took a step forward.

"No one has the authority to ignore the King’s summons."

"Stand aside."

For a brief moment...

Everything became eerily quiet.

Then...

The guard nearest the entrance suddenly drew his sword.

Steel flashed beneath the torchlight.

"Kill them!"

The shout shattered the silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

In the very next instant, the guards loyal to Vikrama Varma lunged forward.

Clang!

The first sword crashed against a raised shield.

"What treachery is this?!"

The captain barely had time to shout before another blade swept toward his neck.

The entrance to the Mahamantri’s tent instantly erupted into chaos.

Swords clashed.

Spears collided.

The unmistakable sound of battle echoed across the royal encampment.

The King’s loyal guards immediately realized the horrifying truth.

The Mahamantri’s personal guard had no intention of allowing anyone inside.

By raising their weapons against soldiers carrying the King’s direct command...

They had unknowingly confirmed the very suspicion Devara had voiced moments earlier.

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(Author note:)

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

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