In the heart of Ujjain, the sun bathed the bustling streets in golden light, where prosperity thrived. Merchants called out, hawking vibrant silks and fragrant spices, their stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and exotic fruits.

Men strode confidently, their chests puffed out in pride, wearing colorful garments and ornate turbans that signified their status. While women moved gracefully, their laughter ringing like melodious bells, draped in shimmering jewelry that sparkled against their skin, often replacing traditional garments with exquisite ornaments that celebrated their beauty and freedom.

At the center of this bustling prosperity stood the imposing black statue of Rameshwari, now complete and it's complete. Her face was fierce yet noble, eyes carved with a fiery determination that seemed to gaze protectively over the city.

Beneath its majestic presence, a gathering of bards captivated the crowd. With eloquent tongues, they sang praises of the royal lineage, recounting tales of the beloved princess Krishneshwari, who had won the hearts of all.

The bards recounted how she had recently taken her first steps, her tiny feet dancing upon the earth with newfound confidence, igniting cheers from the crowd. Since last few days, palace workers, clad in royal colors, moved gracefully through the throngs of townsfolk, their arms laden with colorful baskets brimming with sweets and finely woven garments. Laughter and chatter filled the air as children, eyes sparkling with delight, reached out for the treats.

As they distributed these tokens of joy, the citizens’ hearts swelled with pride, each sweet and garment a symbol of their shared love for Krishneshwari.

Amidst this jubilation, three figures moved with deliberate stealth. Mayantak, Arishtak, and Kambuk, disguised as ordinary townsfolk, wove their way through the throngs of celebrants.

Kambuk, glancing around at the vibrant decorations and the joyous faces, shook his head. "Aisa kya hai usme ? Jo sab itne mohit aur anandit ho rahe hai ?"

"Shukracharya ke shraap ke karan toh woh sab bhul gayi thi, fir bhi sabko apne mayajaal mei kaise fasaya hai usne ?" Arishtak asked, confusion knitting his brow.

Mayantak whispered, his voice barely audible over the cheerful din. "Mujhe laga hi tha.... Uski daiviya shakti abhi bhi uske paas hai."

"Kintu woh toh swayam ko bhul chuki hai. Aise mei uski samast shaktiya vyarth hai." Arishtak said.

Kambuk’s eyes glinted with malice, "Toh hume abhi prahaar karna chahiye."

"Nahi." Mayantak countered sharply, shaking his head. "Iss samaye prahaar karenge toh pakde jaayenge. Hume Krishneshwari ki kshamtao ko aur parakhna hoga."

"Kaise ?" Kambuk pressed, frustration rising.

Arishtak, a sly smile creeping onto his face, offered a solution, "Mai ek Asur ko jaanta hu. Woh ek parchhayi ke bhaati uska peecha kar sakta hai."

Mayantak considered Arishtak’s words, his eyes narrowing. The tension in the air slowly dissipated as Mayantak mulled over Arishtak's suggestion, envisioning a careful approach instead of a hasty assault. At last, he nodded, signaling his agreement.

The trio turned away from the festivities, their figures blending into the throng, leaving behind the revelry.
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In the dense, twilight-shrouded forest on the outskirts of civilization, Mayantak, tall and sinewy, and Kambuk, stocky and fierce, followed closely behind Arishtak, who strode confidently through the underbrush. The forest seemed to thrum with anticipation, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and wild flowers.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught Arishtak's eye. He paused, eyes narrowing, as a shadow shifted unnaturally, almost alive, slipping between a tangle of roots.

"Woh raha !" He pointed toward a cluster of twisted trees.

Without waiting for his companions, Mayantak and Kambuk, Arishtak dashed toward the source of the shadow. The air thickened around them, the scent of damp earth and pine filling their lungs. Mayantak and Kambuk exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued, and followed closely.

As Arishtak approached, he drew his dagger, its blade glinting ominously in the dappled sunlight. With a swift motion, he thrust the dagger into the ground, pinning the shadow to the forest floor. The dark silhouette quivered, as if caught in a snare of unseen energy.

Kambuk halted, eyes wide with disbelief—how could one pin a mere shadow ? Meanwhile, Mayantak’s eyes narrowed in understanding, recognizing the sigil of Chhayavritti, the Asura who was a master of shadows.

A dark and dreadful figure emerged from that shadow, a presence that seemed to absorb the very light around it. His garments, that seemed to have been woven from the essence of night itself, had been pinned to the earth by Arishtak's dagger.

With a swift, fluid motion, he grasped the weapon, filching it from the earth with disdain, and hurled it into the underbrush. The air was thick with tension as he stood up and approached Arishtak, his presence both imposing and magnetic. Mayantak and Kambuk exchanged uncertain glances, not sure as to what to expect next.

But then, the tension shattered as Arishtak burst into laughter, a sound infectious and carefree. Chhayavritti joined in, his laughter resonating like distant thunder, mingling with the rustle of leaves. They embraced, a bond forged in the dark recesses of their shared existence. Mayantak and Kambuk watched, their expressions shifting from caution to amusement.

Chhayavritti, with a glint of surprise in his eyes, reveled in the reunion, "Maine socha nahi tha, ki itne varsho baad tum mujhse milne aaoge, Mitra."

"Ek jatil karya mujhe aur mere saathiyo ko yaha laya hai." Arishtak, still buoyed by the joy of their meeting, hinted at the urgency of his presence.

Chhayavritti's expression shifted, interest piqued as he surveyed Mayantak and Kambuk. He glanced back at Arishtak and asked, "Mujhse kaisi sahayata chahiye ?" he inquired, a note of seriousness creeping into his voice.

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A/N

Lights, camera, ACTION 🌝