Mohini. Hearing that a collective gasp escaped the lips of the women. Their eyes darted from the ethereal woman to each other, their minds racing with possibilities.

"Satyug wali Mohini ?"

"Woh Mohini jo Bhagwaan Vishnu ka roop hai ?"

"Kya aap wahi hai jisne devo ko Amrit paan karaya tha ?"

"Woh jisne Bhasmasur ko bhramit kar uska annt kiya tha ?"

A chorus of questions followed, voices filled with awe and reverence. Mohini, her eyes twinkling with amusement, let out a soft chuckle. The sound, like wind chimes on a moonlit night, was a symphony of enchantment. It was a chuckle that held the power to disarm, to mesmerize, to make one forget the very question they had asked. And so, the women found themselves lost in the melody of her laughter, their minds momentarily blank.

While the other women were captivated by Mohini's enchanting laughter, Aarvi's gaze remained fixed on her daughter. Her heart was filled with a complex array of emotions - awe, gratitude, and an inexplicable sense of familiarity. As she watched her child, soothed and content in the stranger's arms, a profound realization began to dawn upon her. There was something extraordinary about this woman, something that connected her to her child in a way she couldn't comprehend.

Mohini lowered her gaze to the infant in her arms. The tiny creature, with her large, curious eyes, was looking elsewhere, as if searching of a new point of interest. Mohini raised her hands, her fingers snapping together with a sharp, crisp sound. The unexpected noise captured the baby's attention, her head snapping back to focus on the enchanting woman.

A gentle chuckle escaped Mohini's lips as she watched the baby's startled reaction. With a tender movement, she drew the infant closer, enveloping her in a warm embrace. The baby, no longer startled, nestled comfortably in the divine woman's arms. Mohini's eyes softened as she looked down at the child. With a tender gesture, she placed a kiss on the baby's forehead, a silent benediction. A soft, gurgling coo escaped the little one's lips, a sound as sweet as honey.

Mohini then gently handed the contented baby from her arms back to Aarvi. The infant, still basking in the afterglow of the magical encounter, looked up at her mother with a calm expression. As Aarvi took back her child, she felt a surge of gratitude and bewilderment. Her heart was filled with a sense of peace she had never experienced before.

Mohini stood up, her form bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. She brought her hands together in a graceful gesture, a silent farewell.

"Ab mujhe jana hoga." She said.

The women, still under the spell of her divine presence, were unable to form words. Mohini offered a serene smile before turning to leave. With each step, her ethereal form seemed to blend with the light, until she vanished from sight, leaving behind a room filled with awe and wonder.
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The palace gates stood wide open. A ceaseless stream of people poured in - ascetics with matted hair and piercing eyes, warriors with scarred faces and determined steps, merchants with bags bulging with exotic goods, and common folk with hope etched on their faces.

Emperors, Kings and chieftains, each a figure of immense power and prestige, were gathered in the grand hall of the Ujjain palace. Their attire was a riot of colors and gold, their faces a mask of regal composure. Yet, beneath the veneer of authority, a shared anticipation burned. Each ruler, despite their worldly accomplishments, was here for one reason: a glimpse of the child who was the incarnation of Akhand Maharani.

Rulers who had clashed on countless battlefields, their names synonymous with enmity, now sat side by side. The age-old rivalries, the blood-soaked histories, were momentarily eclipsed by a higher purpose.

Amongst the earthly sovereigns were also the great sages, who sat in quiet contemplation. They had heard the prophecies, about how the third incarnation of Harihareshwari would be the embodiment of eternal bliss, the bliss which every soul in this material world was knowingly and unknowingly looking for.

King Dilip, his face etched with a mixture of pride and trepidation, moved through the throng of dignitaries. His regal attire, adorned with precious stones and gold, shimmered under the soft glow of countless lamps. He greeted the sages with a deep bow, while engaging in diplomatic courtesies with the rulers, and then sweetly asking about the well being of the common folks.

"Avanti-raj Jayasen, Maharani Rajadhidevi, Yuvraj Vinda Anuvinda sahit Rajkumari Mitravinda padhaar rahe hai !" The announcer declared.

Dilip froze in his tracks, hearing the names of his family members. Years had passed since their last meeting, a lifetime of experiences and transformations separating them. His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation as he scanned the entrance, and then his gaze finally fell them.

As Jayasen stepped into the grand hall, the weight of years seemed to have settled on his shoulders. His eyes, deep and penetrating, swept across the hall, finally resting on Dilip. A surge of emotion washed over him. The brother whom he loved no less than a son, the one who he trained, was now a king in his own right.

In a moment of overwhelming emotions, Dilip broke free from the protocol that bound him. Disregarding the astonished gazes of the assembled dignitaries, he moved towards his brother, his steps filled with a yearning that transcended the formalities of royalty. He was about to touch the feet of Jayasen, but the king of Mahishmati prevented him from doing so, and instead he took his younger brother in a warm embrace.

Rajadhidevi watched the reunion with a soft smile. Cradled in her arms was the young princess Mitravinda, was engrossed in a colorful toy, her chubby fingers manipulating it with fascination. Yet, even in her innocence, there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes as she observed the emotional exchange between her father and uncle.

But Vinda and Anuvinda observed the scene in front of them, with faces contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy. They had schemed, plotted, and manipulated, only to be outmaneuvered by fate. Their carefully laid plans, designed to keep Dilip out of the throne, had crumbled like sandcastles before a tidal wave.

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A/N

DILIP AUR JAYASEN MILAAP 😭✨

And btw, here's an art of Krishneshwari and Mohini -

And the way our baby is looking at Mohini.... She's like - Aapka chehra mujhe dekhela lagta-
🤣🤣🤣

Btw most of you were right about the involvement of Dashavatar in Krishneshwari's story 🌝
However I must tell you, in no way will there appearance be chronological... So keep guessing who the next one might be 🌝✨