Saving Satyavan ✓

Chapter One

She had failed.

Under the weeping willow, her knees buried in the rust-colored dirt, dampened by two silver droplets, Savitri knew that she'd failed.

A cold breeze, like a distant, fading kiss, sliced her cheek so daintily and yet she was sure she felt a sting. An ethereal glow encompassed her and the tree, meant to be calming and compassionate, but it confined Savitri, suffocating her so that her complexion faded into the very blue color that painted Dharmaraja's bullish frame.

How foolish was I? The bitter words permeated the dreary concave forming within Savitri's numb mind. To ignore a prophecy so strong and allow myself to be spellbound. A moment of stubbornness has cost my love, all foolish love.

Dharmaraja fixed her with an impenetrable stare, his eyes so bleak it was as though he'd grown indifferent to pain.

"It is time, Savitri." There was a gentle roughness to his tone, and yet, it was also detached and eerily calm. Savitri decided that she couldn't expect anything less of Dharmaraja, the esteemed God of Death, who overlooked millions of deaths daily, but it didn't soothe the unbearable convulsions of her soul. His voice did little to shake her even as pebbles clattered at her sides. Savitri's world was already collapsing into itself and she couldn't recognize the effect his baritone-like rasp held on her environment.

Lifting her head, she unflinchingly met the wispy blue eyes that contained an immeasurable amount of pity. It made her shackles rise. Had he shown even a glimpse of sadness, perhaps compassion, there was a possibility that the roar of her blood would diminish. But despite his patience, the God remained standing tall, his gaze lowering on Savitri as though she were a mere commoner.

Her lips parted, as if to speak again, to fix her mistake while she still was swept up in the same breath, but no words came out. All she could do was stare silently; eyes wider than the dark earrings that dangled from Dharmaraja's blueish-gray ears as his lips broke out into a deep sigh. Two white fangs were displayed to Savitri, and a blue tongue.

The tongue that devoured the souls.

"I'm sorry, Savitri." Dharmaraja's voice was so deep that it made the ground under her knees rumble, alerting her to the matter at hand. There was no doubt that he wasn't sorry, even if the glowing aura encompassing him dimmed with every step toward her. A flash of gold sparked on his fingers, manifesting a silvery noose.

Savitri stood with haste, but kept her hands flat together, still revering the heavy set God.

"No, I made a mistake," she said calmly, hiding her fear underneath her tongue and hoping that it would soak back into her skin and not into her words. "For my last wish, I wish to have children with Satyavan."

As if he heard her, the lifeless, glimmering blue silhouette of Satyavan's body convulsed on Dharmaraj's shoulder. Savitri's hopes lept, but Dharmaraj didn't seem perturbed. He lifted his shoulder, bouncing Satyavan's body. Immediately, the convulsions stopped, and Satyavan returned to being lifeless.

"This is of no pleasure to me, Savitri." Dharmaraj murmured, briefly observing the shimmering being hanging from his shoulder. "I admire your resilience. We are nearing a celestial gate and you have yet to relinquish your husband. Your devotion has pleased me, and I have given you three chances to ask for whatever you wish, except for Satyavan's return."

"Dharmaraja–"

"One." He held a finger large enough to wrap around Savitri's neck. "You requested for your father-in-law's sight to be returned, and it shall be. Two." Another digit rose. "You asked for his kingdom to return under his rule, and it shall be. However." His eyes darkened like a shadow of night eclipsing the sun. "You used your last wish to ask for a hundred children."