Hastinapura had always been full of secrets. But now, the silence felt heavier.

Rhea had spent years drifting through the cracks of the palace, listening, observing, staying unseen. But as she walked through the halls that morning, she realized something had changed.

No one spoke of the Pandavas anymore.

Not in court. Not among the servants. Not even in passing conversation.

It was as if they were already dead.

A cold unease settled in her chest.

She needed to know how much time they had.

Because if she was right—if what she had pieced together was true—then the Pandavas were walking straight into a grave disguised as a home.

And no one was going to stop it.

She started with the lower corridors, where secrets were traded as easily as coins.

Servants, messengers, guards—people who saw everything but pretended not to.

Rhea moved carefully, lingering in corners, listening for anything that would confirm her fears.

It didn't take long.

"...Varnavrat is too far for news to travel quickly."

"Exactly. By the time anyone realizes..."

A quiet chuckle. "The problem will already be gone."

Rhea's heart pounded.

She turned the corner, pretending to be uninterested, slipping past unnoticed.

But the words stuck with her.

The problem will already be gone.

This wasn't just an exile. It was an execution.

She needed to hear it from someone who mattered.

She needed proof.

So she did something reckless.

She went to the dice hall.

The scent of spiced wine and sweat filled the air, the sound of laughter and rolling dice masking the tension beneath it.

Rhea kept to the edges of the room, her hood drawn low. She wasn't here to gamble.

She was here to listen.

Shakuni's men were easy to spot—the ones who lurked near him in court, the ones who laughed a little too freely in his presence.

She stayed close, picking up their conversation in fragments.

"...should be any day now."

A scoff. "What's the delay?"

A chuckle. "Patience. Fire spreads best when left to burn slowly."

Rhea's stomach twisted.

She needed to leave. Now.

But as she turned—

A hand caught her wrist.

She froze.

"Going somewhere?"

Her breath stilled. Dushasana.

His smirk was lazy, but his grip was firm. "You always seem to be in places you don't belong."

Rhea forced herself to stay calm. "Maybe you should be asking why I always find something worth hearing."

He chuckled, tilting his head. "You know, people who ask too many questions tend to disappear."

A test. He was waiting to see if she would flinch.

She didn't.

She met his gaze evenly. "Then maybe they should ask better questions."

For a moment, he just looked at her.

Then, to her surprise—he laughed.

"Careful, Rhea," he said, releasing her wrist. "I'd hate to see you make enemies."

Too late for that.

She didn't wait to see if he had more to say. She turned and walked away, her pulse still racing.

She had what she needed.

Now, she just had to figure out what to do with it.

The palace loomed before her as she made her way back.

She needed a plan.

Vidura? No—he already knew. And if he wasn't stopping it, that meant he couldn't.

Bhishma? He had power, but he would not act unless duty allowed it.

Karna? No. He had already chosen where he stood.

Which left her with no one.

The Pandavas were too far. The fire was already being prepared.

And she was running out of time.

That night, she couldn't sleep.

She sat by the window, watching the torches flicker outside, listening to the distant sounds of the city.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

She just didn't know how many people would live to see it.

🔥 Next Chapter: The Fire Rises

Rhea makes one final attempt to stop what's coming.

But time is slipping away.