Nazira
Year 1984
King Harsh sat on the chair placed outside the bars of the prison cell, dauntingly staring at those cold blue eyes that never once looked away.
Shashi Thribhuvan had to be bound differently from others, in the secret correctional facility built specifically for the most dangerous criminals of the country. The chains attached to the two iron rings around his neck hung down encircling his waist and further down binding his legs together. Strong manacles affixed to the chains, secured his hands by a thick padlock. And his mouth thoroughly gagged using iron muzzles used for aggressive dogs- such a shame. His tongue clipped to his upper jaw. Those stringent chains and muzzles ripped through his flesh, trails of blood leaking down, spattering his skin with glittering crimson and sweat.
Apart from this, the knights had been torturing the 'in the past' prince, beating and battering him to near death using stun belts and spiked batons. The one commanding them was the Noble Knight, Yodhin Ojha standing at the corner of the prison, hands folded across his broad chest.
What made it all more befuddling was that Shashi seemed highly potent, enduring each beating silently. Not even a groan escaped his throat. He never once retaliated or struck back. He simply lay sprawled down on the floor and let himself subject to this torture that was the most inhumane and degrading treatment.
King Harsh lifted his hand. The knights stopped beating, and each of them stood in a half circle around the criminal. The King then pointed at the muzzle and waved a finger. Yodhin came forward and unclipped the muzzle off Shashi's mouth. Shashi spat a mouthful of blood. Then he panted and quivered, dropping saliva.
The silence lay heavy, creeping down the passageway of the very underground facility and a new smell in the nose pervaded around, unpleasant and damp.
The eyes of the brothers met once again. In the condition that he was, Shashi had the gall to grin.
"Do you confess?" The King asked, keeping his voice low.
Shashi remained quiet. The chains clinked and clanked when he repositioned and squatted down with both his knees on his floor.
"Talk to me Shashi," Harsh said, sadly. This wasn't the day he had ever meant to see. "You have been caught drinking the elixir. The woman is on the brink of death. It's better for both of us if you confess and be done with this torture."
Shashi then opened his mouth, showing his horrid blood-greased teeth. He checked on Yodhin once, seethed, and then got back to the king, bloodied eyes glistening. "I confess that I am a mage. I confess that I drink elixir to become magically strong. And I confess that I stood up to the mean mentality of this country towards the people like me."
The king tilted his head. "How do you describe your mentality?"
"I'm a Thribhuvan too. And the blood running in my veins forced me to do what Thribhuvans are good at. My voice had to reach the ears of Panchayat, after all."
"You mean learning dark magic from Almourah and using your skills to kill normal humans by hiding in plain sight? That's a trait of a Thribhuvan?"
"No, but you are good at being unwise. You're good at being unjustly towards the mages. Dangerous, scoundrels, you've called us. So you shall have one."
"I think you are referring to our father."
"You're no different, dear brother."
"That's only from your standpoint."
YOU ARE READING
(Book 6) Hayden Mackay and The Third-Eye of the Pancharatna
Fantasy"Mrs. Zutshi, how different was Zarina Khan from you? She was a clairvoyant, that makes her a witch too, right?" "Mages have their own history, Hayden. They have categories too. Since the time of Lady Chandrika's authority over the sections of the p...
