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- Kamal Asthaan, Ujjain, Bharat -
- June 3, 1938 -
The morning air in Ujjain felt lighter that day—almost as if the winds themselves knew someone special was coming.
At Kamal Asthaan, Aryan's palace of blooming lotuses and whispering marble corridors, the staff had been gently buzzing since dawn. Not in a rushed or rigid way—but like a home preparing for family. The western wing had been opened up, curtains fresh, flowers arranged, and a small garden canopy set just outside the main courtyard for an afternoon gathering.
Aryan stood near the garden gate, dressed simply in a soft kurta and vest stitched in pale indigo. No royal ornaments today—just a warm smile, the kind that comes when waiting for someone you care about.
And then—they arrived.
Elias stepped down first from the sleek Kalachakra transport, the desert dust of Jaipur now replaced by the sweet, earthy scent of Ujjain's summer. Marina followed with quiet grace, her hat tilted slightly back as she took in the palace view. Behind them came the girls—Sofia walking tall with her sketchbook in hand, and Lila practically tumbling out, her eyes wide with delight.
"Big Brother!" she squealed, darting ahead before anyone could stop her.
Aryan barely had time to open his arms before Lila crashed into him in a tight hug, her small arms wrapping around his waist.
"You got taller again!" she accused with mock seriousness. "Do you drink magical milk or something?"
Aryan laughed, lifting her up in a spin. "Haha! Only when I miss my little sister too much."
"You missed me?" she asked, half in wonder.
"Every single day," he replied gently, setting her down.
Marina approached next, her eyes warm and filled with pride. "It's nice meeting you again, Your Majesty. I suppose I can't keep calling you by name now."
Aryan greeted her with a respectful nod and a soft hug. "Welcome to Kamal Asthaan, Marina. And you too, Sofia."
"Also, Marina, you all are close friends of mine, so don't hesitate to call me by name, as you used to."
Sofia smiled brightly, brushing back a strand of hair. "Then we won't hesitate, Aryan. Also, it's beautiful here… like a dream you walk into."
Just then, another presence joined them—quiet, graceful, glowing like the early evening moonlight.
Shakti.
Dressed in an elegant lavender saree that shimmered subtly, she moved with an ease that made even the grand arches of the palace feel humbler. Her long hair cascaded like silk, and though her beauty was undeniable, it was her aura—radiant, calming, almost celestial—that made you pause.
Lila's eyes grew as wide as her smile. "Are you a fairy?"
Shakti laughed gently, crouching to Lila's level. "No, little bird. But thank you for thinking so."
"You're so pretty," Lila gushed, reaching out to touch a strand of Shakti's hair. "Even prettier than the pictures in Mama's magazines."
Shakti tucked a flower behind Lila's ear and whispered, "Well, you might just be the most charming sister I've ever met."
Lila beamed, cheeks rosy, immediately taking Shakti's hand as if they'd always known each other.
Sofia watched from beside her mother, curious but quiet—until Shakti turned to her.
"You must be Sofia," Shakti said, her tone both welcoming and sincere.
Sofia nodded. "Yes. I've heard a lot about you."
Shakti offered her a knowing smile. "And I hope I live up to the stories."
There was a gentle silence as everyone soaked in the reunion. It wasn't formal. It wasn't dramatic. It was… warm. Like coming home after a long journey.
But the moment shifted again with the sound of steady boots and an easy chuckle.
Karna had arrived.
Dressed in his usual dark-toned attire, sharp yet effortless, Karna entered the courtyard with that familiar mix of quiet intensity and boyish charm. His eyes scanned the group quickly—then paused.
Paused just a little longer on Sofia.
Something changed, just for a moment. A flicker in his gaze. A subtle stillness.
Sofia, instinctively sensing it, held his gaze for a heartbeat before looking away with a faint blush.
Karna blinked, caught off guard by his own reaction, and immediately cleared his throat, returning to his usual composed self. But Aryan had noticed.
A flicker of amusement danced in Aryan's eyes as he stepped in.
"Elias," Aryan began, "this is Karna. My best friend and closest confidant."
Karna extended a respectful nod. "An honour to meet you all."
Elias, ever perceptive, exchanged a firm handshake with him. "So this is the famous Karna I've heard about."
Karna gave a small smile. "I hope only the good parts."
Aryan couldn't resist. "The rest I'll save for dinner stories."
Then he turned to Sofia. "And Karna, this is Sofia. Elias and Marina's older daughter. And, I suspect, the real quiet thinker in the family."
Sofia smiled gently. "Nice to meet you."
Karna met her gaze again—but this time, with the careful courtesy of someone aware they'd already given away too much.
Aryan, meanwhile, was more than pleased.
This meeting wasn't just for personal warmth. It was strategic.
Karna wasn't just a friend. He was the second-in-command of the Hidden Flame—a silent yet formidable force Aryan had built in the shadows, meant to protect Bharat and influence global balance where diplomacy failed.
And Elias—trusted, brilliant, globally connected—was the missing bridge.
Aryan knew Hydra had to have started probing Kalachakra's outer layers. He also knew war was coming—not only of nations, but also of secrets. He needed his strongest forces aligned.
As the group moved under the silk canopy for some lemonade and light snacks, Aryan walked beside Elias.
"They seemed to connect," Elias said quietly, glancing toward Karna and Sofia, who were now engaged in a casual conversation about desert architecture.
"They did," Aryan replied, his tone lighter but his eyes sharp. "And that might be the start of something interesting."
Elias chuckled. "It's good, but he will have to go through me first before getting closer to my daughter."
Aryan smirked. "Oh, come on, don't be such a prude, old man."
And as laughter echoed under the canopy, little Lila ran past, wearing a crown of jasmine Shakti had made for her, shouting, "This is the best day ever!"
Aryan watched her, heart full.
The world outside was full of plans and problems. Of votes and shadows. But here, just for a little while, there was peace. There was light. There was family.
And from that light, the future would rise.
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The rest of the day passed like a soft melody—light, familiar, and quietly joyful.
Lila, with her boundless energy, had taken it upon herself to explore every visible corner of Kamal Asthaan, declaring each section her new favourite. From the courtyard fountains that sang like birds, to the gently glowing lotus gardens that shimmered in the afternoon light, everything felt magical to her.
"I feel like a princess here!" she announced with both hands on her hips, standing in the center of the mirrored corridor where ceiling mosaics sparkled above her head.
Aryan watched her from a few steps away, his expression gentle, warm.
"You don't need a palace to be royalty, Lila," he said, kneeling to her height. "You already are."
She grinned, clearly satisfied. "Still… I think I'll stay here forever."
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Evening settled over Kamal Asthaan like a velvet shawl. Lanterns glowed softly under canopies, casting warm circles of light over the gardens. Dinner was served under the stars—an open table set with simple Rajasthani dishes, cold sherbets, and the occasional stolen laugh.
Shakti sat beside Marina, gently braiding Lila's hair while the little one excitedly recounted her tour of the entire west wing—"even the stairs that go nowhere!" Meanwhile, Sofia and Karna shared a quiet moment near the edge of the marble veranda, speaking of old cities and forgotten architecture.
For a brief moment, everything felt untouched by the weight of history. Just people. Just laughter. Just life.
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Later that night, when the moon hung quietly above the lotus roofs and the others had retired for rest, Aryan sat in the cozy corner of his personal office—not behind his stately desk, but at a casual lounge tucked beside a wide window, filled with low sofas, soft cushions, and a table that always seemed to have warm tea ready.
Elias sat across from him, sleeves rolled up, legs relaxed. Karna leaned back beside him, hands clasped calmly, his sharp eyes as steady as ever.
For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was comfortable—like old friends who didn't need to fill it.
Then Aryan leaned forward slightly.
"I wanted this day to be light," he said. "But we can't forget what's coming."
Elias nodded slowly, sensing the shift in tone.
Aryan continued, "The Kalachakra Group is growing… fast. Its reach is spreading across trade routes, shadow markets, intelligence webs. But with reach comes risk."
He looked toward Karna briefly, then back at Elias.
"I want Karna to coordinate with you directly for certain international movements. Quiet ones. Some will be in Europe. Others, wherever these threats arise."
Elias tilted his head slightly. "Threats?"
Aryan nodded. "Hydra, for one. They're probing us already. I've sensed them circling the Kalachakra fringes. They're clever—no flags, no uniforms. Just influence and shadows."
A pause.
"And they're not the only ones. There are others… unknown yet, but they'll come. The world doesn't like quiet revolutions. Especially not ones that threaten to change the existing power structure."
Karna leaned in slightly. "I won't interfere with your core operations, Elias. My work will be silent. Precise. But we'll need access—secure channels, movement cover, a way to stay invisible."
Elias nodded slowly, absorbing everything. "You're asking me to host fire… but in a cold room."
Aryan offered a faint smile. "More like… carry a candle through a storm. You won't be alone."
Elias's eyes narrowed with thought for a moment, then he nodded.
"I've always trusted you Samrat. I believe your plans are already moving far ahead of us."
He looked toward Karna and added, "If you're part of this… then welcome. I'll do what needs to be done."
There was no fanfare. No heavy handshake. Just an understanding, passed quietly like a sealed envelope between allies.
Aryan leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"Thank you, Elias. The road ahead isn't going to be easy. But at least now… it's not empty."
They sat there a while longer—three men, in a room scented with old wood and warm jasmine, lit softly by the lamps that never flickered. No more words were needed for the night.
And somewhere, in another wing of the palace, a small voice called in her sleep, "This really is the best day ever…"
And it truly was.
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