𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚~𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞 | 𝟐𝟏+

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 |𝐈𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Aadhisha strode down the corridor with purpose, the sound of her boots muffled against the luxurious carpet. The flickering sun rays cast long shadows, elongating her figure and emphasizing the tension radiating from her body. As she moved through the palace, her mind replayed the conversation with Shivaay, dissecting every word and every nuance.

"Be careful."

Why had Shivaay said that? He wasn't the kind of man to give warnings without reason. Was it a sign of trust—or a subtle hint that he doubted her ability to handle the growing complexities of their mission? The thought lingered like an itch she couldn't scratch.

She reached her chamber and closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. The room, though grand and well-furnished, felt suffocating tonight. The air was thick, heavy with unspoken truths and looming uncertainties. Aadhisha pushed herself off the door and walked to the window, pulling the curtains aside.

The city stretched out before her, bathed in mirrored sunlight. From this height, the chaos and grime of the streets seemed distant, almost peaceful. But she knew better. Beneath the surface lay a festering underbelly of secrets, alliances, and betrayals—things she navigated with deadly precision. And yet, today, for the first time in a long while, she felt the weight of doubt pressing down on her.

The serpent's tattoo on her abdomen throbbed faintly, as though the ink itself was alive, a reminder of the choices she'd made and the price she'd paid. She touched the fabric of her tunic, her fingers grazing the hidden mark. It was a part of her past, one she rarely acknowledged but could never escape, which was her birth.

After Aadhisha left, Shivaay gracefully leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowed as the golden light of dawn spilled into his study. The sun's rays stretched across the room, casting long shadows over the polished mahogany desk and the intricate shelves of books and scrolls. Despite the warm glow, the air inside felt heavy—saturated with the weight of his thoughts.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the desk, the sound merging with the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. Then, almost as if compelled by an unseen force, Shivaay opened the drawer to his right, pulling out a small, rectangular object.

It was a photograph encased in gold, its edges adorned with delicate filigree that gleamed under the sunlight. The image inside was faded but still vivid enough to capture the striking brilliance of blue azure eyes. They stared back at him with haunting intensity, a gaze that seemed to pierce through the confines of time and space.

Shivaay's lips curled into a faint, almost wistful smile, though his eyes remained shadowed with something far darker. He ran his thumb over the glass surface, tracing the outline of the irises as if the act could bring the image to life.

"Czarina...," he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like a forbidden prayer.

The stillness of the room was broken as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. The photograph remained in his hand, his grip almost possessive.

"You ruined me, you know," he said softly, his voice a mix of bitterness and longing. "From the moment I saw you, with those damned eyes of yours... I was gone. Lost."

His free hand moved to his side, where he slowly unbuttoned the upper part of his shirt, revealing the edge of a tattoo sprawled across his chest. It was intricate, a masterpiece of ink that mirrored the complexity of minakari art—vivid colors swirling around a single name etched in delicate cursive: Czarina.

Shivaay's fingers brushed over the tattoo, and his heart seemed to thrum beneath the touch. It was not a painful ache but something far more exquisite, a sensation that both tortured and exhilarated him.