'Not all stories end with a happy ending'
When a fierce 21st-century CEO crosses paths with a powerful King from the 15th century, their worlds collide with passion that defies time itself.
He is driven by selfishness; she is his very obsession.
He...
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The sun had barely begun its ascent when Maya and Arjun bid farewell to Vasu, who had sheltered them for the previous night.
The path back to the palace was supposed to be straightforward, but the dense forest and unfamiliar place quickly turned their journey into a maze of uncertainty.
"Are you sure this is the right way?" Maya asked, her voice tinged with frustration as she pushed aside a low-hanging branch, its rough edges scratching her arm.
Arjun glanced at the rough map Vasu had drawn for them, his brow furrowing. "It should be, but these woods seem endless. Everything looks the same."
Maya sighed, her eyes scanning the dense foliage around them.
The towering trees, the twisted branches and the thick canopy cast shadows on the forest floor.
"I just hope we find our way back before it gets dark. We can't afford to get lost out here," she muttered, more to herself than to Arjun.
The silence of the forest weighed heavily on them, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves or the distant call of a bird.
Every step felt like a plunge deeper into the unknown.
As they carried on, the distant sound of clashing chaos reached their ears, cutting through the stillness.
Maya's pulse quickened, a sense of foreboding washing over her.
"Do you hear that?" she whispered, her hand instinctively moving to the bag slung over her shoulder, which she carried with her from the market they visited yesterday.
Arjun nodded, his expression growing serious. "It sounds like metal pieces clashing, maybe a war?"
Curiosity and concern propelled them forward.
They moved cautiously, each step deliberate and silent. Maya could feel her heart pounding in her chest, a mixture of fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She glanced at Arjun, noticing the tension in his jaw, and the way his eyes darted from shadow to shadow.
When they reached a clearing, the source of the noise came into view—a fierce battle unfolding before them.
The sight froze Maya in her tracks.
Maya's breath caught in her throat as she spotted Rudra amid the crowd, fighting twenty men single-handedly.
His movements were swift and precise, a deadly dance of steel and skill.
His sword gleamed in the early morning light, each swinging a lethal arc that felled his enemies with terrifying efficiency.
For a single moment, Maya felt a surge of déjà vu.
A flashback of Rudra fighting similarly in another time, another place. The memory was fleeting but powerful, leaving her shaken.
