DISCLAIMER :
This story is a work of fiction based entirely on the author's imagination. The names of characters, places, [ALL THE] historical events in this book, and other elements are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real places and events is entirely coincidental.

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"N-No... Please... I'm your niece... Chacha ji, please... have mercy!"

Her voice trembled as she stumbled backward, the heavy folds of her royal red bridal lehenga tangling around her ankles. Gold zari shimmered faintly in the flickering torchlight... an ironic, cruel contrast to the terror in her wide, tear-streaked eyes.

She was draped in layers of gold jewelry weighed her down: heavy necklaces clung to her throat, bangles jingled with every frantic step. It was as though even fate conspired to chain her in place.

He stepped closer, silent. The shadows of the chamber cloaked his face, but the dagger in his hand glinted cold and sharp. A dagger unlike any other—crystal-forged, its translucent edge catching the dim light like glass dipped in moonlight.

Only the royal bloodline possessed such weapons. Symbols of legacy, of honor.

Tonight, it would become a symbol of betrayal.

She backed into the stone wall with a muffled thud. No escape. No help. Only the deafening silence and the distant hum of crickets in the palace gardens.

"Chacha ji..." Her voice broke, caught between a sob and a plea.

Still, he said nothing. The dagger rose, his arm steady, deliberate.

Then... he struck.

Her scream tore through the night, echoing off stone corridors like a soul being ripped from the earth. It was pain. It was fear. It was heartbreak.

And then... 
Silence.

. . .
. . .
. . .

Advika's eyes flew open.

She sat up in bed, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. The scream echoed in her ears like a curse refusing to fade. She clutched the sheets, trying to steady herself, her fingers trembling.

It took a moment to recognize where she was. The familiar comfort of her bedroom and the hum of the air conditioner replaced the heavy silence of the dream. Her bedside lamp glowed softly, books stacked in quiet disorder on her desk. The clock blinked: 3:47 AM.

"Just a dream," she whispered.

But it never was.

For nine long years, since her sixteenth birthday, she had lived this nightmare. Night after night, the same vision. The same dagger. The same scream. As vivid and merciless as the first time.

And always... the same maddening mystery.

No matter how many times she saw this dream, she could never see the girl's face.

Advika gripped the edge of the mattress, her heartbeat pounding like war drums in her chest. This didn't feel like it was just a dream. It didn't feel like fantasy or imagination either.

It felt like a memory.

One she didn't understand. 

One she couldn't forget.

And tonight... it felt closer than ever.

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A/N::: WELCOME TO MY NEW CREATION, MY DEAR READERS!!!

Thank you so much for diving into the very first chapter of my new story! I'm so excited to finally share this world with you—a story filled with mystery, ancient legacies, fierce emotions, and a love that time couldn't bury.

If you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to vote, comment, and follow—your support means everything and keeps the story going strong! I'd love to hear your thoughts, predictions, or even wild theories (you will need them 😉).

New chapters are on the way, so buckle up—it's going to be an emotional, thrilling, and unforgettable journey. ✨

Thanks a ton! Sending lots of love your way. Muah! 💖

PS: As this story is my first attempt at writing an original, I'll only be updating once a week.