Arranged to feel

She stood before the altar, but she didn't look like a devotee. She looked like a soldier at the end of a long, losing war.
She screwed her eyes shut, pressing the lids together so hard that her face strained. It was as if she was trying to squeeze out every memory of the last seven years. Her breath came in sharp, ragged hitches, and her fists were clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms.
Then, the silence of the temple broke.
She didn't whisper. She muttered the words loudly-a raw, jagged sound that vibrated with seven years of suppressed rage:
"Ramudu kadhu... Krishnudu kadhu... Naku vairagyudu lanti Mogudu ni evvu!"
The words weren't a prayer; they were a declaration of war. She wasn't asking for a blessing anymore-she was demanding a weapon. When she finally opened her eyes, the tears were gone, replaced by a cold, frightening clarity.