Something felt… off. Morning was pretending to be calm. Empty alleys. Closed shops. The scent of last night's grand celebration still clung to the air. A couple of guards were roaming around like they'd rather be in bed.
Two boys walked through it—one tired, one way too excited.
"Bro," Reyan said, dragging his feet. "You realise the entire city's asleep, right?"
"Exactly," Ishvik said.
"That's not a good thing, idiot."
"It's the perfect thing."
"For what?"
Ishvik grinned. "Trust me."
"Last time you said that, we ended up locked inside the royal stables with an angry horse."
"That horse had anger issues."
"So, where we going now? And don't say 'you'll see' or I swear I'll throw you into a drainage."
"Alright, alright… we're going to see her."
Reyan stopped. "...Her?"
Ishvik smirked.
"Oh hell no." Reyan turned around. "Nope. I'm going back. Not doing this again."
"Oh, come on!" Ishvik grabbed his arm. "We're not sneaking in or anything."
"That smirk says otherwise."
"I swear on your love life."
"That's not a real swear."
"Look, she meets commoners. Public visits. We just—casually bump into her."
Reyan gave him a deadpan look. "You think a queen's daughter's gonna casually bump into two idiots who smell like sweat?"
"She might."
"She won't. And even if she does, the guards will throw us before you can say 'Hi'."
Ishvik grinned. "Imagine, though. She trips. I catch her. Our eyes meet. Fireworks. Boom. Marriage. Two kids."
Reyan slapped his forehead. "You're an idiot. Like, not even a fun idiot. A dangerous one."
"You're just jealous I have a romantic vision."
"Romantic vision? You once confessed to a girl through a pigeon."
"That pigeon was loyal, okay?"
"It delivered to her mother, Ishvik!"
"It was nervous!"
"Yeah, just like you."
Before Ishvik could reply, a Clang cut through the air. Then again. And again.
Three times. Then silence.
Then again. Three more.
Then again.
Reyan froze. "...Bro."
Ishvik's grin slowly faded. "That's not… normal."
"The hell was that?"
"Palace bell."
"Why's it ringing? This early?"
Suddenly, guards rushed past them, all shouting, serious.
"What the—what's happening?" Ishvik asked, turning.
Before either of them could react, a hand grabbed Ishvik by the collar and pulled him into a nearby shop. Reyan followed them
He slapped Ishvik, "Do you have any sense left in that head?" the man shouted
"Father!"
"Don't you know what that bell means?!" the man said.
"Father—what's going on?" Ishvik stammered. "Isn't the usual court bell?"
"Three rings. Three sets. You don't remember what that means?"
Reyan blinked. "Wait. Isn't that for when a royal—"
"Yes," the man cut in. "A king is dead."
"Oldman dead?"
"Don't you know when to be serious?" the man said.
"Whatever."
"It's King Aariv!"
"What? How?" both boys said in surprise.
"No one knows how yet. But the city's locked down. Her mother won't stay quiet. Something big's coming. Now listen, go home. Keep your head down. Don't talk to anyone. If a guard stops you, show your IDs. Say nothing. Got it?"
"Yes, uncle," Reyan said quickly.
"Ishvik?"
"Yeah, yeah, okay—fine."
"Keep your mouth shut! I trust you Reyan."
He nodded.
They nodded and hurried off.
The city didn't feel sleepy anymore.
Quiet. Too quiet. Like a silence before the storm.
The man leaned against the wall, exhaling. "One day, he will kill himself and take us with him…" he muttered. "What in the world happened?"
One hour earlier.
Two women moved silently down the long corridor of the palace.
One carried a silver tray, two glasses of saffron milk trembling slightly with each step.
The other held a basket stacked with fresh blankets.
"You heard what happened in the council chamber last week?" Kavya asked, eyes glancing sideways.
Maari gave her a knowing look. "You mean the letter?"
"Yeah. The one from the Eastern Kingdom."
"I was there when it came. Guard brought it in, sealed with the Eastern sigil. Not even an hour later, the King ripped it apart."
"He didn't read it?"
"He did. Didn't say a word. Just stood up, tore it in half, and told the ministers—'We won't discuss this again.'"
Kavya's eyebrows shot up. "Is it about the treaty?"
"Has to be. Old ministers are whispering. Eastern Kingdom feels insulted."
"Because of Aariv?"
Maari nodded. "Last year. Royal visit. They offered their princess—pretty, smart, everything. The old Majesties agreed. Engagement was announced."
"And Aariv didn't care."
"Didn't show. Didn't respond. Few weeks later, the old king had to refuse politely. And they brought Saarya home instead."
Kavya clicked her tongue. "And now they want to pull out?"
"They wouldn't have dared when Queen Mother was strong. But now…"
She trailed off.
"Everyone knows the truth," she whispered. "The kingdom is weaker under the new King. Border tribes are restless. Nobles fighting for scraps. If the Eastern Kingdom pulls back now… who knows who follows next?"
They turned a corner. A pair of guards passed silently. The women lowered their heads, waited, then continued.
"Old Queen's meeting the advisors more often," Maari murmured. "And the old King… he hasn't been the same."
"He barely spoke yesterday when I served tea," Kavya added. "Didn't even look up. Just nodded."
"He's worried. Everyone is. But no one dares to say it aloud."
"I don't get why Aariv refused the Eastern girl," Kavya said. "One marriage, and the whole kingdom might've been secure."
"Because he loved Saarya."
"Love won't save a throne."
"Try telling him that. You'll be thrown out before you finish the sentence."
They stopped outside a massive chamber door. Kavya straightened her back, cleared her throat, and then knocked gently.
"Pardon, Your Majesty," she called. "Queen Mother requests your presence."
No answer.
They waited.
Still nothing.
Kavya glanced at Maari. Then knocked again—louder this time.
"Your Majesty?"
Silence.
Maari shifted. "Let's tell Queen Mother. If they're ignoring her summons, we shouldn't be the ones getting yelled at."
"Maybe they're freshening up. Let's wait a few more minutes."
Maari nodded reluctantly.
A guard walked past.
"Good morning, Kavya! Maari!"
"Good morning, sir!" they said in unison.
"Waiting for His Majesty?"
They both nodded.
"Have a nice day!" he smiled and moved on.
"He greets everyone," Kavya said, watching him. "Brave and kind-hearted like his father, they say."
"Yeah."
They waited.
Then Kavya sighed, knocking again—this time with her fist.
"Your Majesty?"
Still no reply.
Maari frowned. "I'll get the Queen Mother."
"Stay here," Kavya said. "Just in case."
Maari rushed off.
A few minutes later, she returned with the storm behind her—Seriya, the Queen Mother, her robes sweeping like thunderclouds.
"They're not awake yet?"
Kavya shook her head. "No, Majesty."
Seriya walked to the door, lifted her hand, and knocked harder.
"Honey," she called.
No response.
"Aariv?" she said louder.
Still nothing.
Her palm hit the door, harder. "Saarya? Are you alright?!"
Silence.
She grabbed the handle. Pushed.
It opened with a long, soft creak.
And everything froze.
The air turned thick. Time felt like it stopped. The smell. Blood. Metallic. It filled their lungs.
Inside the room, nothing but chaos.
Saarya lay collapsed near the door, hand outstretched like she'd tried to crawl. Her gown was soaked in blood.
Aariv lay at the centre, fallen backwards, unmoving. His skin was pale. Lifeless.
Furniture shattered. Drapes torn. Blood on the floor.
The old queen stumbled forward. Dropped to her knees beside her son. "Aariv? Aariv!"
"KAVYA, GET THE DOCTORS! NOW!" Maari shouted.
Kavya sprinted off.
A moment later, footsteps approached. Guards, a woman, the old King, and his trusted man Varyan rushed in.
The king stopped dead.
He stared.
No words stopped in his throat.
The woman knelt beside Aariv. Checked for a pulse. Nothing.
The old queen turned to her. The woman slowly shook her head.
Then she rushed to Saarya.
"Her Majesty is alive!" she called. "Weak pulse. Heavy blood loss. We need to move her—now!"
Guards rushed to get the stretcher. She was carried out, her hair soaked in red.
"Will she live?" the old King asked.
"I'll try everything, Majesty," the healer replied. "But I can't promise anything."
They vanished into the infirmary.
A commander stepped forward. "Your Majesty… we await your orders."
The King barely whispered, "Ring the bell."
He turned, shouting orders, and disappeared into the echoing halls.
Behind them, Seriya stood still. Something has changed. Tears stopped. Her face turned stone, cold and merciless.
"Varyan," she said, voice cold as death. "I want answers. I don't care who it is—King, Prince, foreign lord, beggar—whoever did this… bring me their heads."
Varyan bowed low. "I swear it, Majesty. I'll find them."
"Lock down the city. No one leaves. Not a breath. Question every soul. If they lie, kill them. Royal or not."
The old king stepped forward. "Seriya, don't do anything."
She turned. Her eyes, wild and furious.
"Kaivan," she said through gritted teeth, "you couldn't protect my son. So, I will. I, Seriya Varayan, will make them feel the pain my son suffered. And if you get in my way…" She stepped closer, voice colder.
"You'll be the first."
She turned. Paused at the doorway.
"One more thing," she said to the old king. "Post men at Saarya's chamber. If anyone tries to harm her—anyone—I don't care even if it's a god or a ghost—my sword will drink their blood."
And with that, she walked away.