solace || a salaar fanfic

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

Amidst the shadows of the palace, sinister conspiracies stirred. Following the demise of Siva Mannar, the rightful succession dictated that the throne should pass to the king of the Shouryaangas, Dhaara. However, Raja Mannar, self-proclaimed as the King of Khansar, saw the throne as his property, his right. Thus began the unfolding of a dark and treacherous scheme—a ruthless ploy to seize the throne through blood and cunning plans. 

Raja Mannar's strategy was clear in his mind. His initial move involved the discreet elimination of Dhaara, as once the leader was out of the picture, the throne would naturally become his. However, there was still one more obstacle to overcome. If their leader was killed in front of them, the Shouryaangas would undoubtedly explode in chaos. In addition, the possibility of negative consequences from the Ghaniyaar tribe lingered menacingly.

But what if the Shouryaanga Tribe ceased to exist? A total eradication of the tribe would guarantee a lack of hurdles in Raja Mannar's plan, and the ensuing terror would heavily darken the sky with fear and silence the Ghaniyaar tribe. The vision began to appear in his mind. His throne, his power, everything under his hands. Driven by ambition and a thirst for power, he moved with calculated precision, aware that the success of his plan hinged on every meticulously planned step. The stage was set for a bloody struggle—one that would test not only Raja Mannar's abilities but the very fabric of loyalty and alliances in the kingdom of Khansar.

There was a strange silence throughout the palace on the Amavasya night of the month, when even the moon was hidden by the clouds. The darkness of the sky concealed the demonic figures running through Khansar, only the thought of elimination in their minds. House to house they were placed, planning on leaving no Shouryaanga spared. The peaceful sleep the town was engaged in was about the end, but many individuals held each breath waiting for the initial shot of gunfire. 

Boom! And the rest was history. Perhaps one of the most deadly nights in Khansar's history began with a single gunshot that shattered the stillness of the Amavasya night. The resonating sound echoed through the palace, serving as an ominous warning to the unfolding tragedy.

As the gunshot echoed, chaos swirled in deadly waves within the once-peaceful town. The  people part of Raja Mannar's plan moved stealthily through the darkened streets. Shadows danced on the walls, and the air was thick with the tension of  doom. House by house, lives were taken, again and again, leaving no Shouryaanga spared.

The tranquility that had embraced Khansar in its nocturnal slumber had disappeared, being brutally shattered. The common people, blissfully oblivious to  the danger, were jolted awake by the sudden onslaught. Apprenhension spread like wildfire, and the once tranquil atmosphere transformed into a battleground of terror. 

For every gunshot that rang through the night, a chapter of Khansar's history was written in blood. Each life extinguished added to the tale unfolding in the shadows. Raja Mannar's ruthless quest for power had set in motion a nightmarish sequence of events that would scar the town's collective memory for generations to come.

The residents of Khansar, once engaged in peaceful slumber, now held their breath in anticipation of each gunshot, each echoing boom signaling the end of innocence. The town's heartbeat synchronized with the staccato rhythm of gunfire, marking the descent of Khansar into a dark abyss. 

Mothers struggled to shelter their children, hiding them in cupboards, closets, anywhere that would provide a shield from the onslaught violence. Tears flowed across in a sorrowful harmony, eyes clenching as they watched their parents succumb to the swords. 

Amidst the Khansar crossfire, Deva and his mother found themselves stranded. They too had fallen victim to the murderous night, waking up to the commotion of the chaos. Deva's mother had accepted her fate, knowing that only an angel in disguise could save them now. How could they protect themselves. Deva was busy hammering away and the door, tying strings of protection, praying no one could enter.

The haunting echoes of the door's relentless pounding reverberated in his mother's mind, a symphony of anguish that accompanied her pleading prayers to the divine. She prayed for the protection of her son at least, an innocent boy, if not herself. But a knocking sound on the door, caused her to jolt in surprise. "Hey Deva, please protect my Deva." She pulled Deva close to her as the doors began to tremble before finally giving way. She began bracing for the impact as she watched the silhouette of the sword hovering in the air come down before-

"Stop!" A voice, commanding and unwavering, sliced through the air. In an instant, the swords that had been poised for the final strike were retracted, confusion etching the faces of the henchmen. There, in the doorway, stood Manmohini and Varadha, a beacon of hope in the darkest of moments. Their intervention would result in the saving of the lives of two innocent people, whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the time.

"Varadha and Manmohini, it is your father himself who has given these orders! How can we go against it?" One of the henchmen, a member of the Ghaniyaar tribe questioned the children. 

Varadha, unwavering even with the looming conflict, responded by flashing his bracelet—a tangible emblem of his rightful claim, the symbol of his lordship. "Do you desire this?" he asked, his eyes locking onto the henchman's gaze. In that moment, a hunger for power flickered in the man's eyes, his hands subtly twitching with the desire to possess the bracelet, the land, and the authority it represented.

Manmohini, her eyes perceptive to the sudden switch, continued. "No one should know." She went up to Amma and began comforting her in her embrace, while directing the other henchmen to silently load Deva and his mother's belongings into the waiting car. 

"Leave them, and you'll get the bracelet," Varadha declared with a firm gaze that bore the weight of determination and authority. The henchman hesitated, torn between the allure of possessing the coveted symbol of power and the loyalty instilled by years of service.The bracelet, an emblem of lordship, seemed to shimmer with an irresistible allure, tempting the henchman to forsake the orders that weighed heavily on his conscience. 

The Ghaniyaara agreed, and Varadha cast the bracelet to the ground, watching as the greedy hands picked it up from the floor and until they all gradually faded from view. Deva and Amma too began to get into the car, a silent promise being conveyed in the exchanging glances of Deva and his two best friends.

Amma angrily told Deva to get in the car, vowing to never go back to this hell again. However, before leaving, Deva said, "I will be both a hunter, and the bait, only for you two. Whenever you both will call me again, I shall return. This is Deva's promise to you."

And within that promise sealed a never-breaking bond, that would remain intact even 25 years later, and change the fate of Khansar forever. 

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!ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ!

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