The day before Shivratri ..

The morning sun streamed through the sheer curtains of my apartment, casting golden patterns on the wooden floor. The faint hum of the city below mixed with the distant chirping of birds, a comforting symphony of life that I had grown used to over the years.

My alarm buzzed relentlessly, dragging me from the remnants of a dream I could no longer remember. Groaning, I reached over to silence it, my hand brushing against a stack of books on my bedside table. Most of them were about ancient civilizations, forgotten languages, and the mysteries of the past—my world.

I sat up, stretching my arms as I glanced at the clock. 7:15 AM. Another busy day awaited me.

Breakfast was a quiet affair in our home. My parents, both retired professors, were already at the dining table, sipping their morning tea and discussing the news. My mother, ever the disciplinarian, glanced at me over her glasses as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

“You’re late again, Aranya,” she remarked, her tone half-chiding, half-amused.

“Late for what, Ma? It’s not like I have a nine-to-five job,” I replied, grinning as I grabbed a piece of toast.

“Your work might not be nine-to-five, but it’s certainly twenty-four-seven,” my father chimed in, his eyes twinkling with pride.

I rolled my eyes, but their words warmed me. As an only child, I had always been the center of their world, and their unwavering support had been my anchor through the years.

After breakfast, I headed to the institute where I worked. The day was a blur of cataloging artifacts, analyzing pottery shards, and discussing excavation sites with my team. By the time I met Sandhya for lunch, I was already exhausted.

Sandhya was my best friend and a fellow archaeologist, though our personalities couldn’t be more different. Where I was calm and methodical, she was fiery and impulsive, her enthusiasm infectious.

“You look like you’ve been digging trenches all morning,” she teased as I slid into the booth at our favorite café.

“Feels like it,” I replied, sipping my iced tea. “What about you? Any luck with the Ganga excavation?”

She launched into a detailed account of her latest findings, her eyes lighting up as she described an ancient seal she had uncovered. Listening to her, I felt a pang of envy. While Sandhya was out in the field, I had been stuck in the city, waiting for leads that never seemed to come.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. It was a call from the library I had been working with for months.

“Hello?” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Ms. Aranya, the manuscript you requested has arrived. You can pick it up tomorrow morning,” the librarian informed me.

“Thank you. I’ll be there first thing,” I replied, my heart racing with excitement.

Sandhya raised an eyebrow as I hung up. “Good news?”

“Very. I think I might finally have a lead on something big.”

She grinned. “Let me know if you need backup. You know I’m always up for an adventure.”

That night, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. My mind raced with possibilities, each more tantalizing than the last. The manuscript could be the key to uncovering a forgotten chapter of history, a discovery that would make all the waiting worth it.

The next morning, I woke early, eager to start the day.

“Don’t forget, today is Shivratri,” my mother reminded me over breakfast.

“I know, Ma. I’ll be home late, though. I have to check something out after work,” I said, trying to sound casual.

She gave me a knowing look but didn’t press further.

By mid-morning, I was at the museum, the manuscript in my hands. It was a fragile thing, its pages yellowed with age and its text written in a script I had only seen a handful of times before. As I carefully turned the pages, one phrase caught my eye: *Vindhya forest.*

The manuscript spoke of an ancient temple hidden deep within the forest, a place shrouded in mystery and forgotten by time. There were vague mentions of celestial events, a broken mirror, and a sanctum of secrets.

My pulse quickened as I traced the crude map sketched in the margins. It was enough to guide me, though the path would be far from easy.

I made up my mind then and there. I was going to find that temple.

The drive to Vindhya forest was long and uneventful, the city giving way to rolling hills and dense greenery. By the time I reached the edge of the forest, the sun was already dipping low in the sky.

The forest was a maze of towering trees and tangled undergrowth, but the map proved accurate. After hours of searching, I found it—the temple described in the manuscript.

It was breathtaking, a crumbling relic of a bygone era. As I stepped inside, I felt a strange energy in the air, as though the temple itself was alive.

And then I saw it—the mirror.

Its golden frame was a masterpiece, but the surface was cracked, its reflection distorted. I pulled out my phone, recording every detail as I examined it. I didn't realise when I stepped on the thorn of a branch laying in the ground. But I didn't care as I was too engrossed . The carvings on the frame, the strange symbols etched into the glass—it was all unlike anything I had ever seen.

As I studied the mirror, the air around me seemed to shift. The cracks began to glow, and before I could react, I was pulled into the light.

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the temple.

I stood on the edge of a forest, the same mirror now behind me, though it was broken and missing pieces. In the distance, I saw the kingdom —a breathtaking city unlike anything I had ever seen. It was a breathtaking tapestry of golden domes, towering spires, and winding streets that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. The architecture was ornate, every building adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering mosaics.

But there was something wrong.

The city was alive with movement—people bustling through the streets, vendors calling out their wares, priests preparing for what looked like Shivratri rituals. Yet, as I watched, I noticed an eerie pattern. The same woman fetched water from the well every few minutes. The same child chased a kite, laughing as if it were the first time. The priests chanted the same verses, their voices rising and falling in an endless loop.

My heart raced as the realization struck me.

This kingdom was stuck in time, living the same day over and over again.

I crouched behind a cluster of trees, my eyes darting across the scene. The people moved with purpose, their faces serene, unaware of the strange spell that gripped their lives. It was hauntingly beautiful and utterly tragic.

I scanned the horizon, my gaze falling on a grand palace at the center of the city. Its golden domes gleamed in the twilight, their surfaces reflecting the fading light like molten fire.

The kingdom of Vyantara. The myth Kingdom.

The name surfaced in my mind unbidden, as though it had been waiting for me to remember.I remembered this name from the manuscript . Vyantara—a place lost to history, erased from the annals of time. Everyone knew this only as a myth . Perhaps the loop had hidden it from the world, trapping its people in a never-ending twilight.

A sudden shift in the air drew my attention, and I turned toward the courtyard below.

He stood at the edge of the steps, framed by the flickering light of torches. Even from this distance, his presence was undeniable, a force that seemed to command the very air around him. He was tall, his dark armor gleaming faintly under the twilight sky. His posture was regal, his bearing one of a man who had ruled for centuries.

But it was his eyes that held me captive.

They glowed like molten gold, piercing and unrelenting, as if they could see straight into my soul. Our gazes met, and I felt my breath hitch, my pulse quickening in a way I couldn’t explain.

He wasn’t trapped in the loop.

He was aware, alive, and completely unaffected by the strange spell that gripped his kingdom.

For a moment, neither of us moved. I felt a shiver crawl up my spine as his gaze darkened, not with malice, but with something far more dangerous—obsession.

“Hail to our king, Rudraksha Veeraditya,” I heard the distant voices of the priests chanting, their words carrying on the wind.

The name sent a ripple through me, as if it had been etched into my very being. Rudraksha Veeraditya—the ruler of this forgotten realm, the man whose eyes now burned with a fire I couldn’t escape.

I didn't have my phone with me here and I was in an unknown world . I should go back before I could get into the trouble . I decided to go the mirror as after touching the mirror I was here .

I pinched myself, hoping it was all a dream. But the pain was real, as was the hand that suddenly clamped over my mouth.

Before I could scream, I was spun around and pinned against the mirror.

It was him—the king. Rudraksha.

His molten gold eyes burned into mine, his face mere inches away. His grip was firm but not painful, his presence overwhelming.

“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Our languages are the same .

I couldn’t answer, my heart pounding in my chest.

“You don’t belong here,” he said, his gaze narrowing.

The air was heavy with tension, the kind that made my chest tighten as I stood frozen under his piercing gaze. He was too close, so close that my words felt trapped in my throat. His presence was overwhelming—commanding and terrifying—but undeniably magnetic.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath. “I-I mean no harm,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know how I ended up here. I just… touched the mirror.”

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. He was searching for something, maybe a lie, maybe fear. I wasn’t sure what he saw, but his intensity made my skin prickle.

For a moment, the silence stretched between us, and then he stepped back, releasing me. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stand tall.

“Did you touch this mirror?” he asked again, his voice deep and resonant, each word laced with authority.

I nodded quickly, not trusting my voice.

His gaze shifted to the mirror behind me, and I saw a flicker of something—anger, maybe frustration—flash across his face. Without another word, he turned on his heel, his dark armor glinting faintly in the twilight.

“Wait!” I blurted, surprising even myself.

He stopped, his back to me, and I felt a surge of desperation. He was the only one who seemed unaffected by the strange loop that gripped this place. If anyone could help me, it had to be him.

“Can you help me get back?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “Why should I help you?”

Arrogant. I bit back the retort that threatened to slip out and instead said, “Do you at least know how I can go back?”

He sighed, the sound heavy with impatience, and gestured toward the mirror. “You can’t go back.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”

He pointed to the mirror, specifically the cracks and missing pieces that glowed faintly. “The mirror must be whole to cross. Without it, there is no way.”

I felt my heart sink, but then a thought struck me. “But the mirror was whole when I got here,” I said, more to myself than to him.

His sharp gaze snapped to mine. “The mirror was whole in your world?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling exposed under his scrutiny.

His expression darkened, and before I could react, he unsheathed a sword and pointed it at my throat. My breath caught, and I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.

“From which world are you?” he demanded, his voice cold and cutting.

“I-I…” I stammered, struggling to find the right words. “I’m from another time .”

His grip on the sword tightened. “How did you find the mirror?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “I found a map in a recently discovered manuscript. It led me to the temple, and when I touched the mirror… I ended up here.”

For a moment, he studied me, his gaze unwavering. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he lowered the sword. I exhaled shakily, relief flooding through me.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his long strides purposeful.

“Wait!” I called after him, but he didn’t stop. He mounted a horse that had been waiting nearby and rode off, leaving me standing there, feeling utterly lost.

I sank to the ground as the night deepened around me. The forest was dark and unfamiliar, and the faint glow of the mirror behind me was the only source of light.

I leaned against the cracked frame, my mind racing. The mirror was whole in my world, but broken here. That meant the mirror was like a door, a portal between time , and it needed to be intact to function.

But how had it broken in this world?

And why was he—this King Rudraksha Veeraditya—the only one unaffected by the loop?

I couldn’t sit here all night. The forest felt dangerous, the shadows pressing in around me. I needed to find him. He was the only one who could help me, arrogant or not.

I stood and began walking toward the kingdom, my heart pounding with every step. The city was eerily quiet, the same scenes playing out over and over again. A woman fetched water from a well, her movements mechanical. A child chased a kite, his laughter echoing in the stillness. Priests chanted the same verses, their voices rising and falling in an endless loop.

It was like walking through a living nightmare.

The decorations around the city suggested that it had been Shivratri when the loop began. The flickering torches and garlands of marigolds gave the place an almost festive air, but the repetition made it feel haunting.

I finally reached the main gates of the palace, but they were closed. The guards stood motionless, their expressions blank, trapped in the loop like everyone else.

I decided to wait. If the loop repeated every few minutes, the gates would open eventually.

Sure enough, after a while, the gates creaked open, and people began walking inside, their movements synchronized. I slipped through, my heart racing, and found myself in a grand courtyard.

The palace was breathtaking, its grandeur a testament to its ruler. Intricate carvings adorned the walls, and the floors gleamed under the flickering light of torches. But the silence was oppressive, and the endless repetition of actions made my skin crawl.

I wandered through the corridors, searching for him. The maids and servants didn’t even glance at me, their movements robotic as they went about their tasks.

I passed a kitchen and caught the scent of food. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since… well, since I had touched the mirror.

I stepped inside and saw cooks preparing dishes, their hands moving in perfect synchronization. They cooked, plated the food, and then threw it away, only to start again. It was unsettling, but hunger won out. I grabbed a plate and helped myself to the food, savoring the taste of the rich, spicy curries and soft bread.

Once I was full, I resumed my search, wandering through the palace until I heard the sound of clashing metal.

I followed the noise to a garden area, my steps quickening as I approached.

There he was.

He stood in the center of the garden, his sword slicing through the air with precision and power. The flickering torchlight danced across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the intensity in his eyes.

His dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his muscles rippled with every movement. He was practicing with a grace and ferocity that left me momentarily speechless.

He looked… incredible.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. This wasn’t the time to admire him. I needed his help.

“Excuse me,” I called hesitantly, stepping into the garden.

He stopped mid-swing, his gaze snapping to mine. His expression hardened, and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice cold.

“I need your help,” I said, summoning all the courage I could muster.

He lowered his sword but didn’t move closer. “I already told you. You can’t go back.”

“There has to be a way,” I insisted, stepping closer. “The mirror—”

“The mirror is broken,” he interrupted, his tone final.

“But it wasn’t broken in my world,” I argued. “There has to be a way to fix it.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then he turned away, sheathing his sword.

“Wait!” I called, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re the only one here who can help me. Please.”

He paused, his back to me, and I saw his shoulders tense.

“Why should I help you?” he asked, his voice low.

“Because I don’t belong here,” I said, my voice trembling. “And neither do you.”

He turned slowly, his golden eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—pain, maybe, or understanding—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Without another word, he walked past me, leaving me standing there in the dark.