In the sun-kissed gardens of Mathura, young prince Satyashree darted joyfully among his friends. His laughter echoed like a melodious chime as he played a spirited game of catch. With his tousled hair glinting under the golden rays, he was the embodiment of innocence, unburdened by the weight of destiny.

His friends, a lively mix of six to eight years olds, formed a loose circle, their hands outstretched as they cheered for him. Satyashree, small yet agile, took a deep breath, his heart racing with exhilaration. He grasped the soft ball, its surface warm from the sunlight, and with a quick flick of his wrist, sent it soaring through the air.

The ball arced above their heads, glistening like a shooting star, as the older boys scrambled to catch it. Satyashree's face lit up with pride each time one of his friends missed, their laughter bubbling around him like a joyous stream.

Unbeknownst to them, hidden in the shadows of the ancient trees, Chhayavritti, master of shadows, observed intently. His form melded seamlessly into the darkness, eyes glinting with malevolence as he watched the boys kick and toss the ball, their laughter a sweet melody both innocent and enchanting.

He noted the energy that surrounded the youngest boy among them, a magnetic charm that drew everyone in. The prince's laughter rang like a bell, infectious and pure, lifting the spirits of his friends as they rallied around him. To the asura, the child's resplendence was undeniable. He couldn't help but think that such a vibrant aura must signify divinity, it must be a reflection of Shreeshaktiswar himself. He had been told that the most resplendent child must be Satyashree, the supposed protector of Krishneshwari.

Suddenly, Satyashree paused, his instincts tingling as if touched by an unseen force. The laughter around him faded for a heartbeat as he sensed a gaze piercing through the foliage. Instead of fear, a confident smile spread across his face, reminiscent of a tiger spotting its prey. Without breaking his gaze from the game, he dashed forward again, laughter bubbling forth. His playful demeanor returned as he caught the ball, tossing it back with a spirited shout, the game resuming with renewed energy.

Chhayavritti kept observing, unaware that he was already ensnared in a game far larger than he could comprehend. Eventually, the game came to a halt as dusk cast its gentle shadow over the field.

Satyashree clapped his hands to gather his friends, his voice ringing with youthful authority. "Ab mujhe jana hoga, mitro. Akshar abhyas karna hai."

The others nodded, some playfully groaning at the thought of duty, while others waved goodbye. As the children dispersed, Chhayavritti slipped silently from his hiding place, merging seamlessly with the shadows that stretched long across the ground.

With the young prince in his sights, he trailed quietly, eager to unravel the mystery of this young boy who held such promise. Satyashree wandered through the halls, his small figure illuminated by the last rays of the sun. His dark curls danced as he moved, and a knowing smile played on his lips, betraying the depths of his awareness.

Chhayavritti, intent on assessing the boy, moved with stealth, his eyes narrowed, oblivious to the fact that his presence was sensed. Soon they reached his room, the heavy wooden door creaking open to reveal his sanctuary. Inside, his father, King Satyak, sat immersed in scrolls, lost in deep thought. The flickering oil lamp cast gentle shadows, illuminating the wisdom contained within those ancient texts.

"Pitashree." Satyashree's smile widened as he approached.

Satyak's brow was furrowed in concentration, but at the sight of his son, a warm smile broke across his face, a beacon of light in the dim room, dispelling the fatigue of the long day.

"Aajao putra Yuyudhaawan." Satyak called, extending his strong, welcoming arms.

Satyashree rushed forward, leaping into his father's lap, laughter spilling like music into the stillness of dusk. Satyak wrapped his arms around the boy, enveloping him in an embrace as timeless as the stars beginning to twinkle outside.

"Pata hai Pitashree, aaj kya huya !" Satyashree exclaimed, his voice bubbling with excitement. He animatedly recounted tales of his adventures in the palace, where he had chased behind horses and played with the other children.

Satyak listened intently, his heart swelling with love and pride as he absorbed every word, delighting in his son's innocent joy. Above them, hidden in the shadows of the high ceiling, Chhayavritti watched intently. Confusion clouded his mind. For one moment he wondered, how could this seemingly ordinary boy, so carefree and playful, be the incarnation of a god ?

As laughter filled the room, the Asur's intrigue deepened, leaving him to ponder the complexities of divine nature.

Satyak jokingly said, "Tum par aur tumhare karyo par toh granth likhne chahiye."

As Satyashree's laughter filled the room, he suddenly paused, a thoughtful look crossing his youthful face. "Arrey.... Mujhe toh padhna tha." The words tumbled out as he plopped down from King Satyak's lap, his small feet pattering softly against the marble floor.

Chhayavritti, concealed high above, felt a pang of confusion. This boy, an incarnation of the divine, was so carefree, so grounded in the mundane. A god acting like a child was a perplexing sight for the Asur.

Satyashree approached a sandook, its wooden surface gleaming softly in the afternoon light. He carefully opened it, revealing an array of colorful garments folded neatly inside. He selected a fresh pair of garments, an elegant antariya, and made his way to the washroom.

Moments later, he emerged bathed and clean, droplets of water still clinging to his skin, his cheeks flushed with the kind of innocence only a child could possess. Dressed in his crisp new antariya, Satyashree approached his small desk, a cozy nook adorned with scrolls and ink pots. He sat cross-legged and grabbed a quill, concentrating intently as he practiced his letters and words, his brow furrowed in concentration.

From the shadows, Chhayavritti's curiosity deepened. The boy was a god, yet he reveled in the simplicity of childhood. How could he then, have protected Krishneshwari and killed Kambuk ? He knew there was more to be unraveled.

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A/N

Chhayavritti... Run while you still can-

Because that guy is too violent for someone who is supposed to be the god of peace ! 😭🤣