Prime Minister Mervil was buried in paperwork.
Seals pressed.
Accounts reviewed.
Signatures flowed without pause.
Tax season.
The one time of the year even he could not escape monotony.
“I love this season.”
Chief Sendrav walked in without invitation, leaning casually against the door.
“The only time I get to see you actually working.”
Mervil didn’t look up.
“Come again?” he said calmly.
“Are you implying I don’t?”
Sendrav laughed.
“All I ever see is you turning people insane.”
Mervil signed another document.
“That’s my hobby.”
Sendrav dropped into the chair opposite him.
“The first-year batch has begun.”
“Yes,” Mervil replied, his eyes still fixed on the balance sheet.
“I’m interested in how they develop.”
“Your nephew is under Guru Goalpara.”
Mervil paused.
“Unfortunately.”
Sendrav frowned.
“Goalpara is close to your clan.”
“I have my reservations.”
A beat passed.
“Now speak.”
Sendrav leaned back.
“I want to talk about that Urvasa boy.”
Mervil’s pen stopped.
For the first time—
He looked up.
At the University
Nag Suyash walked alone.
Classes had ended, and the corridors were gradually thinning.
“I’m glad you made it.”
He didn’t turn.
He simply stopped.
But the familiar voice stirred something within him.
Nag Ananta stood behind him.
His elder sister.
Suyash said nothing.
His lips parted slightly as his emotions went on an unexpected ride.
Gathering himself, he continued walking.
Nag Ananta closed her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks.
With a heavy heart, she walked away.
Across the campus, Nag Suyash’s eyes crossed familiar faces from his family.
His siblings.
He didn’t join them.
He didn’t even slow down.
With a blank expression, he walked toward the main university gate.
Later, Suyash stepped into his apartment.
Small.
Bare.
Quiet.
Twilight slipped through the window, stretching across the floor.
Suyash sat in the corner.
Alone.
He had chosen this.
Suyash had failed to transform into a serpent after his elemental core awakened.
His father had been furious, and all hope had been abandoned.
His title as clan prince had been stripped away and bestowed upon his younger cousin.
He left the clan and vowed never to return until he became worthy.
Evening
The Queen’s Private Chambers
Documents lay open between Clasida and Mervil as they reviewed the kingdom’s financial projections.
A knock sounded at the door.
The Deputy Prime Minister entered.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he said with a bow.
“Lady Shakuntala, Head of the Shakta clan, requests an audience with the Prime Minister.”
A pause.
“Escort her to my office,” Clasida said.
“We will meet her shortly.”
Mervil glanced at her.
She didn’t explain.
“You may continue,” she added.
Shakuntala waited.
Half an hour passed.
Silence did not trouble her.
But the timing did.
I should have informed them beforehand…
The doors opened.
Clasida entered.
Mervil followed.
Shakuntala rose and offered a slight bow.
Respect—without submission.
They settled into their seats.
Mervil initiated the conversation.
“Thank you for coming, Lady Shakuntala.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“I was hoping to visit your Haveli instead. I’m missing those milky sweets.”
Shakuntala’s eyes softened.
“You don’t need an invitation, Prime Minister. A son does not ask before entering his mother’s home.”
Clasida leaned back slightly.
“Be careful,” she said lightly.
“Mervil Surya’s appetite is… excessive. Like a sea monster.”
A brief laugh passed between them.
Mervil glanced at the Queen.
Clasida gave him a slight nod of approval.
“I wish to ask about your final interactions with Queen Amaranda,” Mervil began, shifting to the main conversation.
The change in atmosphere was immediate.
Shakuntala exhaled slowly.
“So… it is about her.”
Both of them nodded.
“She wrote to me before her voyage,” Shakuntala began.
“She was… happy.”
She paused.
“Excited.”
“Her father and mother both opposed it at first. But her father eventually gave in.”
Silence followed.
“Upon her return… you know what happened.”
Clasida spoke.
“The Kapala Samudra Dusayu fleet attacked her.”
“She destroyed them.”
“Captured twelve ships.”
“Killed a captain worth two thousand Sona.”
The room seemed to hold the weight of those words.
Shakuntala nodded.
“The kingdom celebrated.”
A pause.
“But my mother did not.”
Mervil’s gaze sharpened.
“Why?”
Shakuntala lowered her voice.
“She said something was wrong.”
“She believed Amaranda was hiding something.”
“Eventually cost her life.”
Silence settled over the room.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
“Why was this never reported?” Mervil asked.
“No one asked,” Shakuntala replied.
“The case was closed as suicide.”
“King Nishumb’s decision,”
“Final.”
Clasida leaned forward slightly.
“Did your mother know what the secret was?”
Shakuntala shook her head.
“No.”
“But the accounts didn’t match.”
“She returned… different.”
“Stronger.”
“Too strong.”
Mervil took a moment, running through the details of the ongoing investigation in his mind.
Then he spoke.
“She stayed in the Land of Fallen Stars for four months…” he murmured.
Shakuntala nodded.
Mervil pressed his lips together, his mind still racing as he considered the possibilities.
After a soft exhale, he made an assumption.
“She found something.”
“Something she shouldn’t have.”
“Forbidden knowledge,” Queen Clasida added.
Shakuntala blinked thoughtfully.
Resting her chin on her fingers, she nodded.
“It’s possible.”
“Even now… we don’t have complete knowledge of the land.”
Queen Clasida and Prime Minister Mervil exchanged a glance.
“I can arrange another expedition,” Shakuntala offered.
“No.”
Both voices came at once.
Shakuntala furrowed her brows.
Mervil explained.
“The influence of the Black Sage and Chitkin has grown there.”
“Quite significantly.”
“It’s no longer safe.”
Queen Clasida nodded.
“And we still don’t know why your granddaughter was targeted,” she reminded the Shakta Matriarch.
Silence returned.
But now—
It carried urgency.
“Now what?” Shakuntala asked.
“Do you have a plan?”
Mervil’s lips curled into his signature smirk.
Eyes lit up with intent
Both women understood.
A soft chuckle escaped Shakuntala as she rose.
“One last thing.”
They looked at her.
“As leaders… you will face choices that go beyond what you can bear.”
A pause.
“Choose carefully.”
“Every decision demands a sacrifice.”
“And the nature of that sacrifice… decides the outcome.”
Her gaze held theirs.
“And remember—”
“Not choosing…”
“…is also a choice.”
Silence followed her words.
Neither of them argued.
Because neither of them could.