The night was dark and cold but the illumination of lamps and torches kept the dark at bay but did little to the chill. An idol of the Goddess Mahakali was the centre of attention for the ones gathered there. However, the one who stood beneath it was the mediator of that attention.

Her ink black hair billowed in the wind, flowing past her waist that contrasted with the blood red dress that she wore, the length of its skirt in sync with her hair. Her lips that looked as if they were stained with blood, stood out on her ivory face among her other features.

She would have been considered attractive, had it not been for her eyes.

Those dark irises, clouded by thick lashes, held pure malice. They held a feral gleam under the light of the torches, especially when her hands held a ceremonial dagger that glinted wickedly at its tip. She held the dagger above her head, her lips moving consecutively with foreign verses.

A priest stood behind her in the shadows, throwing handful of vermillion at the idol of the deity, coating her dark figure in red. The atmosphere was tense and disturbing.

The handful gathering present there knew the height of the situation they were available for. It was a ritual. Not a normal one though.

A ritual of black magic.

"Your Highness, the required mantras have been recited, you may continue with the sacrifice", The priest announced to the woman, handing a basin with his eyes cast to the ground.

The woman nodded, a manic smile playing on her lips as she took them from the old man's hand and placed it under the raised altar, right under the chin of a young girl.

A semi - unconscious girl.

Her eyes remained half closed, unable to move her body as the women above her raised the dagger for precise momentum. The girl, Mrithika, closed her eyes—accepting her fate when her body gave up all the strength to fight back due to the drugs injected in her. A deep sense of drowsiness settled upon her. She hoped it would in the least ease the pain that was about to follow with the actions of the dagger.

"Jai Ma Kali", The woman whispered, bringing down the dagger in a swift move. Just when she was about to slit Mrithika's throat, bells strung over the altar swinged in the air viciously as the speed of the winds increased—spraying the vermillion powder in the air.

The woman stopped abruptly. Her open hair whipped around her face, distorting her vision with its midnight colour and the intensity of the winds increased. The ground shook beneath everyone who were present for the grotesque ceremony.

The idol of Kali was the only object that remained unscathed in the violent manner of Nature. Torches and lamps that held fire were now extinguished, unable to defend the darkness that engulfed the place once more.

The woman's alluring features contorted into rage as she screamed, "WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE"?

The priest was terrified as he answered the woman, "It's a sign of bad omen, your highness. Or perhaps, the Goddess is not happy"!

"What do you mean not happy? When I sacrificed my son, none of these theatrics appeared! Pandit, did you even accurately pick the auspicious hour"? She gritted her teeth, glowering at the priest who cowered at her piercing glare.

"I did, Ranisa. I-I am equally as surprised as you are", he sputtered. The woman remained furious. A brief gust of chill ran across her figure as she heavily breathed.

The winds came to a rest and the bells were reduced to soft chimes. The earth stopped shaking. The place became still once more. No holy ashes or vermillion flied in the air. The woman let out an indignant huff and swiped her ruffled hair back.

"Let's get this over with, Pandit. AND SOMEBODY LIGHT THE GODDAMN TORCHES"!

A few men ran hither and tither bringing light and unwelcoming warmth to the extinguished torches. The woman positioned the dagger back into her right hand and took aim, her lips gave out a furious shriek when the veil of dark vanished.

The altar was empty.

The guests and the priest were still with shocked expressions. There was absolutely no sign of Mrithika anywhere. The chains that bound her hands to the altar were unclamped and lay idle near the ruined holy symbols.

"FIND HER"! The woman barked out to two men, clad in black uniform. They gulped and nodded their heads in haste and ran in opposite directions leaving the woman fuming in anger. Her chest rose heavily as she gripped the dagger tightly, her knuckles turning whiter than ever.

                        ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ─── 

The Pandavas held looks of confusion, wariness, pity and concern. Their eyes were trained on the poor figure of a girl, lying unconscious for almost a prahar on the soft laden mattress.

Kunti felt sorry for the state at which the girl was. She assumed her age to be somewhere to that of Nakul and Sahadev or possibly a year or two younger, but her pallor and hollow cheeks frightened her. Her attire looked quite strange too. There was something unfamiliar about the girl that made Kunti feel wary.

It was obvious that she wasn't from here but her native features said otherwise. Perhaps, she was from another country? She did not know, all she could do was wait for the girl to wake up and explain herself.

The healer said she was alive but unconscious and due to her unhealthy body, her healing ability has reduced.

Arjun had told her that he had found her by the woods in a bloodied state with scratches on her hands and face. He didn't have the heart to leave her there despite of her unknown origins. He brought her to the palace to leave her in the care of a healer in obedience to his Dharmā and later find out her whereabouts.

"Mata, perhaps we should inform Vasudev about this situation. He can be provide insights on this. After all, he's an expert on finding solutions to such problems", Arjun voiced his suggestion, making the others snap their heads towards his direction.

Yudhishthir agreed. "Yes Mata, Arjun is right. We should inform him".

On being prodded by her children, Kunti gave up and agreed to their suggestion, sending her youngest son, Sahadev, to write a letter to his cousin about the abrupt appearance of Mrithika. Due to the tense situation, none of them noticed the girl stirring from her place, her eyes trying to adjust to the light radiating from the bright sun.

All except for Arjun's sharp eyes.

"Mata, Jyesth, she's awake." His proclamation caught the attention of the remaining members. They huddled further around her resting place with curious and cautious eyes.

Sahadev returned just in time to see the mysterious girl trying to sit upright on the bed with difficulty.

"Careful, Putri", Kunti came to her aid and gently held her along her arms. Mrithika jerked from her touch as if it were electric.

"Mata, I think she's scared, give her some time to calm herself ", Yudhishthir said calmly, coming to Kunti's side as he pulled her away gently.

Mrithika looked around, taking in her surroundings. When the woman in red raised the dagger, she closed her eyes inviting death with open arms in surrender. She expected to be at the gates of heaven, if there was one—or even a bright light to engulf her in, but, just as the woman was about to strike, winds howled and the earth below her shook.

Among the chaos she felt her body weaken and grow colder than it already was and before she knew, she got sucked up.

Yes, that's what she felt. A feeling that felt like being pulled by vacuum.

And now here she was, in a strange room, with golden lightings and a rather antique backdrop. Sure she wasn't a stranger to antique settings, but even this felt too ancient than the rooms at the Mehrangarh Fort or even her own palace.

Something was not right.

It didn't help the fact that she was the centre of attention in a room filled with five men and an older women, all looking at her curiously as if she were a display at the zoo. What was even more strange was their attire, it looked traditional but more authentic and primeval than the usual ones. They seemed as ancient as the room she was in.

Mrithika wondered if she was on a set of some historical movie of Sanjay Leela Bhansali. She observed that all the five men wore heavy ornaments made of what looked like pure gold covering their bare chests and a richly embroidered angavastra was draped around their shoulders with golden armbands adorning their muscular arms.

Out of the five, one of them was taller than the rest with a visage that conveyed he could crush a hundred elephants in one go. Next to him was a man with skin as dark as the rain filled clouds and to his adjacent were his brothers who seemed like twins. Each different from the rest. One of the twins was enough to rival all the Bollywood actors and models on the basis of his ethereal looks that made him stand out from his brothers. Mrithika had never seen such a handsome face ever in the entirety of her lifetime. Her gaze shifted to the last of the brothers, the one who entered much later than the rest of his brethren. His expression mirrored that of the eldest among the five. He seemed as calm and wise as the mighty ranges of the Himalayas whilst his irises conveyed his hidden vigilance. 

Little did she know that even the Pandavas found her and her attire strange as she found theirs.

The elderly women, clad in a white and saffron saree with beads of Rudraksha hanging from her neck, stepped forward and voiced her concern, "Putri, are you alright? What happened to you and where are you from"?

                             ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Hey all how was this chap? This is my first time writing a MB fanfic after reading tons of amazing ones.

Please do extend your support and I promise to not disappoint y'all. Also credits for the lovely banner goes to @justagaki

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