The air in the room was heavy with the weight of destiny. As Aryavardhana finished speaking, Rajavardhana bowed his head, his voice barely a whisper. "O firstborn, tell me—what is it you ask of me?"
Aryavardhana leaned back into the plush silk of his seat, closing his eyes. A single, resonant chant of "Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya" escaped his lips, settling the restless energy in the room. Only then did he gesture for his brother to sit finally.
"Anuj," Aryavardhana began, his voice calm yet commanding. "Gurudev Vidyadhar and Rajpurohit Suyodhan believe the time for my coronation has come. When our father left Hastinapur to establish Prabhas Kshetra, we began a campaign to unite these fractured lands. Varunaprastha was the final piece of that puzzle. Now, with its merger, we have given birth to a vast, united Aryavarta. The borders are secure. It is time for the sword to rest."
He paused, a distant look in his eyes. "You must lead the caravan back to the capital at sunrise on the third day. As for me... I must journey to the Himalayas one last time. I seek the gateway to the parallel worlds that have haunted my meditations."
A flash of worry crossed Rajavardhana’s face. "But brother, if a crisis arises in your absence, how can we face it without your strength?"
Aryavardhana stood and walked toward his grand bed, where a legendary sword rested in its scabbard. He picked it up and held it out toward his brother. "Take this," he said with a reassuring smile. "If any foe dares to challenge the peace, invoke the name of Lord Vishnu and draw this blade. It carries the soul of our house."
Overwhelmed, Rajavardhana knelt before the weapon. With a gesture of absolute reverence, he touched his forehead to the hilt before taking it in both hands. Seeing the duty accepted, Aryavardhana stretched out upon his bed, falling into a deep, peaceful sleep almost instantly. Rajavardhana watched him for a moment, then quietly turned away a servant who had come to offer the evening meal. He didn't want the silence of his brother's rest broken.
Outside, the moon climbed high, casting a silver glow over the kingdom. Rajavardhana stood by the balcony, staring into the horizon as if trying to read the face of the future. As the first watch of the night ended, he summoned a guard and whispered a message for King Vishwara. The soldier’s eyes widened in surprise at the nature of the command, but he bowed and hurried into the shadows. Only then did Rajavardhana lie down on the floor to sleep, the cold stone a reminder of his discipline.
Across the palace, Megha had finished her meal and sat in deep meditation, her spirit reaching out to the primordial energy of Adyashakti. A soft knock at the door broke her trance. A soldier entered, bowing low. "Princess, King Vishwara requests your presence in his chambers immediately."
A knot of unease formed in Megha's stomach. Something is wrong, she thought, but she rose without a word.
When she entered her father's room, she found him sitting with Aryavardhana. The atmosphere was formal, almost heavy. She took her seat beside the King, her eyes darting between the two men.
King Vishwara looked at his daughter, his expression unreadable. "Princess," he said softly, "Aryavardhana leaves Varunaprastha for his own kingdom at dawn. However, before he departs, he requested a final, private discussion with you. That is why I have summoned you."
Megha turned to Aryavardhana. He sat with the poised, graceful stillness of a lion, his gaze steady. As the reality of his departure sank in, a shimmer of tears clouded her vision.
"O Arya," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Tell me... what is the purpose of this final meeting? What is it you have to say to me?"
