The arena, now silent and deserted, stood under the vigilant care of the Sages, guardians of the participants until the championship concluded. This period of solemnity was marked by a radius of silence extending two kilometers around the arena, a precaution to shield the competitors from the merest whisper of disturbance. In these times, festivities were set aside, a testament to the gravity of the trials ahead.

Before her audience with the King, Kalika sought the solitude of Surya Bagh for a meeting that could alter the course of events. It was here, amidst the lingering scents of jasmine and the soft sighs of the pre-dawn breeze, that Antra found her after completing her daily duties. The garden, bathed in the ethereal glow of early morning, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

Antra's arrival painted a striking image against the serene backdrop of Surya Bagh. She was draped in a long cloth of flower pink, a color that seemed to capture the first blush of dawn. The fabric adorned her gracefully, its hue complementing the spirited determination in her eyes. Copper plates provided a delicate armor for her bosom, a blend of strength and femininity, while a belt cinched at her waist spoke of readiness and resolve.

Opposite her, Kalika's presence was marked by a contrasting serenity. Wrapped in a saffron saree, she embodied the essence of spiritual devotion. A garland of rudraksh beads adorned her neck, each bead a testament to her deep connection with the divine. The colors she wore were not just attire but a reflection of her life's dedication to balance and wisdom.

In the tranquil embrace of Surya Bagh, as the world around them whispered secrets of old and new, Kalika and Antra meandered through the paths lined with blossoming flora. Their conversation flowed like the gentle stream nearby, with Kalika's voice, tinged with a note of concern, piercing the veil of silence.

"Antra, the events unfolding concern me deeply. Why do you suspect that someone within the seven lokas is meddling with the portals?" Kalika's inquiry, soft yet laden with the weight of unsaid fears, hovered between them like a delicate mist.

Antra paused, her gaze drifting over the garden that now seemed to mirror her tumult of thoughts. The beauty of Surya Bagh, with its promise of renewal and peace, stood in stark contrast to the turmoil that wracked her heart. The question, expected yet daunting, prompted a deep sigh.

"Kalika," Antra began, her voice a reflection of the resolve that the pink of dawn had lent her, "the signs are unmistakable. The disturbances, the near losses, and the shadows lurking in the corners of our world... They all point to a betrayal of a magnitude we cannot ignore. My fear is not just for the safety of our people but for the very fabric of time and space we strive to protect."

Antra's voice grew heavier with each word, underlining the catastrophic implications of such an act – the potential annihilation of all life across the lokas. Kalika, sensing the gravity of Antra's revelation, halted and faced her squarely. Grasping Antra's hands, she locked eyes with her. Kalika's dark, beaded eyes met Antra's vivid azure ones, and through their gaze, she conveyed an ancient memory – a millennia-old battle where Shakti and Mahakaal had valiantly combated Kaliyug and Shukracharya. It was a conflict so fierce that it had shattered the universe, necessitating thousands of years for reconstruction.

As Antra gazed into the past through Kalika's eyes, she witnessed a battle from thousands of years ago. The scene was so fierce it could easily cast darkness into the hearts of any spectator.

The sky was a canvas of turmoil, with dark clouds swirling and lightning crackling ominously. The air vibrated with the tension of impending conflict. On the battlefield, armies led by Shukracharya clashed with the Sun Souls led by Shakti and Shiva – Mahakaal. Their armors gleamed under the eerie light of the merging sun in the sky of Shivaloka.

Shakti, the Goddess of Time and consort of Mahakaal, stood at the forefront, her presence commanding and ethereal. Her eyes burned with fierce determination, and her hair flowed like a cascade of dark flames.

Across from her, Shukracharya's forces of Danavas, Daityas, and Rakshasas glowed with malevolent power. His dark magic cast a shadow over his army, pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

The scene erupted into chaos. The soil was bathed in dark red blood, thicker and darker, clogging its natural pores. But it wanted more, as if parched for ages, its thirst unquenchable even if everyone on the battlefield perished.

Witnessing such a gruesome scene, Antra pulled her hand back from Kalika. She could clearly see the blood streaming from Kalika's eyes. Why shouldn't they? After all, she is the daughter of Shiva and Shakti.

Kalika's expression clouded with a mix of resignation and resolve. "I can't bear to foresee through time again," she confessed, her voice laced with a deep, unspoken sorrow. "The visions are too heart-wrenching. But now, we must meet the king." Her tone suggested she harbored secrets too perilous to unveil just yet.

They proceeded to the Hall of Samay Gaar,  a clandestine chamber concealed behind the Illusion Wall of the Palace. To the distant observer, the wall appeared as a towering curtain, but up close, it revealed its true form – a solid structure of sun-baked bricks. Whispering the incantation "Dwaram Udhghatya" into the wall's hidden 'ear', the entrance revealed itself, engulfing them in a loka that felt suspended in time.

Inside, the hall's grandeur was overwhelming, with its 60-feet high ceiling and a tableau that seemed to encompass the entirety of the 10 lokas. The chamber, constructed on a zeptosecond thread of time, ensured that discussions held within were both time-efficient and forever encapsulated in that singular moment.

As Antra and Kalika took their seats flanking the king, they observed his majestic presence – his broad shoulders and the proud scars adorning his physique spoke of battles won and wisdom gained.

Antra and Kalika folded their hands in a Namaste gesture and bowed their heads to the King. They said in unison, "Pranam Maharaja!"

After exchanging formal greetings, the king's stern gaze prompted them to state their concerns. Antra hesitated, aware of the king's unwavering trust in the royal lineage. It was Kalika who broke the silence.

"Rajan, Antra and I believe there is a traitor within our royal court or ministry."

The revelation visibly shook the king. He was more shocked by the accusation coming from his daughter and the high priestess, and without any proof.

"Agastya, what is your insight?" the King asked his army chief, who was also part of the discussion.

A man with a muscular build, standing seven feet tall, and a prominent scar on his left cheek—a memento from his last battle with Shukracharya's Dark Time Charmers—stepped forward.

"Maharaja, accusing our ministry will result in an AntahYudh, a civil war. Our people will lose trust in us. Pointing fingers at our own will not yield positive results," Agastya suggested.

Listening to Agastya's argument infuriated Antra. How could he not see the irregular patterns of teleportation between lokas and the untimely opening of the Time Gates? To Antra, his stance was both ignorant and rude. Being blind to the potential betrayal within the royal court would surely lead to downfall. But she would not let him blindfold the King.

"Antra, Kalika, Agastya is correct," the King said, turning to the ladies present in the hall.

Taking a deep breath, Antra finally broke her vow of silence. "Maharaja, Agastya might be correct. But here we are dealing with the untimely openings of the Time Gates. This might result in a sudden outbreak of Dark Time Charmers in our loka," Antra argued, looking directly at Agastya.

"Agastya, do you have anything to say?" The King was intently listening to the arguments presented by his army chief and the princess.

"Maharaja, I am not disregarding the princess's concerns over this unusual activity. But accusing someone from the royal court without solid proof is something outlandish."

"Rajkumari Antra, present me with evidence. I shall thoroughly investigate this matter," the king commanded. As a king, he could not dismiss even the slightest suspicion, even if it led him to question his trusted ministers. However, he also could not accuse anyone from his royal court without solid proof.

"Antra, if I may dare to ask, may I pose a question?" Agastya spoke, a tinge of tease gleaming in his eyes as he leaned slightly forward.

Antra and Kalika both knew exactly what Agastya wanted to ask. Antra glanced at Kalika, who gave a subtle nod. After a brief pause, she replied, "Yes."

"What makes you think there is a traitor in our royal court?" Agastya asked, taking a deliberate sip from the goblet, the metallic clink of the cup echoing in the quiet hall.

This raised suspicion in the King's brown eyes, his gaze narrowing as he studied Antra.

"The answer to this question is not factual but more of a psychic vision," Antra replied, her voice steady but with an underlying tension.

"Maharaja, are we now going to make decisions based on psychic visions? Is this how you intend to run the kingdom?" Agastya mocked, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

"Agastya!" Antra shouted, her fists clenched at her sides, the rage on the brink of breaking out.

"Rajkumari, control your voice," the King intervened sharply. This time, the King reprimanded Antra with a stern look. He was a man of rules, discipline, and decorum. He could not accept his daughter, the future queen, speaking disrespectfully to her chieftains and court members. She might lose their trust and respect.

Antra bowed her head, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Please accept my apology, Maharaja."

"You must seek forgiveness from Agastya, not from me," the King stated firmly, his eyes softening slightly.

Antra looked directly at Agastya, who was still mocking her with his eyes, the smirk not leaving his face. Before Antra could speak, he said, "Maharaja, the princess does not need to ask for any forgiveness from me. She is still a child to me." With a smirk, Agastya asked for permission to leave the Samay Gaar.

With this argument, the King also dismissed the meeting and left the Samay Gaar, his robes trailing behind him as he walked out with a dignified air.

Before stepping out from the Samay Gaar, he said " You have a month time."