Beneath The Ashes (ARDI Story)

Chapter 4

The evening air in Dwarka felt alive, like the city itself was breathing in anticipation.

From my chambers, I could hear the distant hum of flutes, the steady thrum of dhols, and the occasional bursts of laughter rising from the gardens below.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of gold and violet, casting long shadows across the palace.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air, my heart a wild drum in my chest as I moved towards the gardens, my presence felt by all, an unyielding force amidst the crowd.

The palace halls were alive, bustling with activity as servants scurried about, trays of sweets and pitchers of cool sharbat in their hands.

But everything halted for a moment when I passed by. I could feel the gazes on me, like parasites that sucked my sanity.

My need to run was strong, but I held it back. Pushing it in far corners of my mind.

As I walked in a slow, elegant way, one royal was expected to. Like I fit in perfectly in this lustrous world, and I didn't't feel like an imposter at all.

I walked with an air of confidence, pulling it firmed around me like a sheild.

It was just another show. One of the many, that we royals we were expected to put up.

I let my eyes flicker around for a moment.

Every surface gleamed-polished marble, hanging tapestries of rich blues and reds, vases brimming with freshly cut flowers from the royal gardens.

The scent of jasmine and sandalwood lingered in the air, calming, yet charged with the excitement of the evening.

As I approached the grand garden, the rhythmic sounds of dance and song grew louder.

The open space before the temple in the garden's center was a breathtaking sight. The garden stretched vast and green, illuminated by torches and decorated with delicate white flowers that cascaded like waterfalls from archways and trellises.

On one side, the forest framed the horizon, dark and mysterious, while on the other, the sea sparkled, its waves crashing gently against the shore, a constant reminder of Dwarka's maritime glory.

The temple stood in the middle, a pristine structure of white stone, its spire reaching toward the heavens, as if in conversation with the gods.

The royalties had gathered here in their finest silks and jewels, each more lavishly dressed than the next.

Laughter mingled with the soft tunes of the vina, as dancers spun in elegant circles, their feet moving in unison, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.

The soft clink of gold bangles, the shimmer of gemstones, and the heady fragrance of roses created an intoxicating ambiance.

My gaze swept the scene, catching sight of familiar faces-kings and queens, warriors and diplomats, all gathered in unity for this celebration.

Servants weaved in and out of the crowd, offering drinks and delicate morsels, while Brahmins, seated in concentric circles near the temple, chanted mantras that rose and fell in a rhythmic crescendo.