❝An archaeologist whose obsession begins from the palace and ends with her.❞
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Vedaitya Samarth Malhotra, a 22nd century archaeologist is driven by an insatiable thirst for the secrets of MaithiliVeda.
Hi...
and he lived within me, more deeply than I ever lived in myself.
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"I want Shrivigya finished!" The enraged demand of the man in the white shawl cut through the heavy air.
His eyes, alight with a ferocious intensity, fixed on Maithili, his Swarnam, who sat across the room, in her chamber.
Despite the darkness swirling around her, she wore a serene smile, lost in thoughts far from the sinister plots at hand.
As tensions spiraled, a figure shrouded in black emerged from the gloom.
Extending a hand, he sought to offer a semblance of reassurance or perhaps solidarity. Yet, his gesture was violently spurned, the man in white recoiled as if touched by fire.
Stammering, the man in black responded, "I... I will take care of it."
His ambition to ascend to Ashwedham's throne was palpable, yet it was clear he feared the deadly game he was being drawn into— a game where the stakes were as high as his life.
Instead of responding, the man in white turned, holding the आल्ता पात्रम्—a sacred vessel tainted by Maithili's touch.
With deliberate slowness, he dipped a finger into the crimson liquid, a macabre fascination in his eyes as he contemplated the stains marking his skin— a symbol of possession, of claims yet unfulfilled.
"Bring me the one who dared cast a lecherous gaze upon her," he demanded, his voice cold, masking the fury simmering beneath.
The confidant, cloaked in black, understood the gravity behind the seemingly innocent inquiry.
He nodded silently below the bed, where a figure lay in a state of disrepair, the consequences of his actions laid bare for all to see.
The sight fueled the dark fire in the man in white's eyes, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "you understood the rules, did you not? For her, I would gladly walk through the fires of perdition itself."
Before the other could respond, the white-cloaked figure's hand shot out, gripping the black shawl's wearer by the collar, lifting him with a terrifying ease.
"Yet, you let a predator roam free under our watch."
The man in the black shawl struggled for words, his voice a mere whisper, "Forgive... it was an oversight, one I deeply regret."
The white-shrouded figure's eyes glinted sharply, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he leaned closer.
"Regret is the beginning of retribution. Fail me again, and the consequences will be...dire."
As the man in white released his iron grip, his counterpart in black plummeted towards the cold, unforgiving stone floor with a thud.
The air was knocked out of him, leaving him to whimper in pain, yet no plea for mercy found its way past his lips.
