|•Eclipsed Ardent Affection~The Tragedy In The Sands Of Chronicles•|

Chapter :- 14 {Lost In The Flames}



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Year 1870
सन् 1870
सन्१८७०
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Nandani drifted in and out of consciousness, her mind tethered to the present by a thread, constantly pulled between fragments of memory and the suffocating darkness that surrounded her. Her head pounded with a dull, relentless ache, and when her eyes fluttered open, the world around her swam in a blur of dim light and shifting shadows. She winced, instinctively trying to raise her hand to touch her throbbing temple, but something cold and unyielding held her back. Rope. Thick and rough, it bit into her skin, binding her wrists tightly behind her back.

Panic surged through her veins as she tested her restraints. Her movements were sluggish, her muscles weak from whatever drug or blow had rendered her unconscious. Her heart raced, each frantic beat a painful reminder of her captivity. She struggled against the bonds, but the coarse fibers dug deeper into her flesh with every desperate tug.

The air around her was thick with the scent of damp earth and smoke, mingled with something metallic—blood, perhaps. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked, and when she tried to speak, her voice came out as a rasping whisper.

“Where… am I?”

There was no response, only the faint crackling of a fire somewhere nearby. She blinked, trying to focus her vision, her surroundings slowly coming into view. The room was small and crude, the walls made of stone, cold and damp. A single torch flickered on the far wall, casting long, twisted shadows across the floor. The floor itself was covered in dirt and straw, a far cry from the polished marble halls of the palace.

Her mind raced as she tried to piece together what had happened. She had been in the chambers, her thoughts consumed by the growing tensions between Pratap Garh and Shamsher Garh. Yuvraj had been angry—no, distant. She remembered their argument, the harsh words exchanged, and then… nothing. A sharp pain in her head, a hand grabbing her from behind, and then darkness.

She forced herself to focus, to push past the pain and the confusion. She had been taken. But by whom? And why? She was not just any royal—she was the future queen of Shamsher Garh, the key to solidifying the fragile peace between the two kingdoms. Her disappearance would not go unnoticed. Yuvraj—he would be looking for her. He had to be.

A noise broke the silence—a faint rustling from the far corner of the room. Nandani’s breath hitched, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She wasn’t alone.

Her eyes darted toward the source of the sound, and in the dim light, she saw a figure. A man. He sat in the shadows, his form obscured by the flickering torchlight. He was watching her, his presence as still and ominous as a predator waiting to strike.

Nandani’s throat tightened.

“Who are you?”

She demanded, her voice shaky but defiant.

“Why am I here?”

The man didn’t respond immediately. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on her, as if weighing his options. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and smooth, but with an edge that sent a shiver down her spine.

“You ask too many questions for someone in your position.”

The calmness in his tone unnerved her more than if he had shouted. She tugged at the ropes binding her wrists, the fibers biting into her skin, but she didn’t care. She had to get free. She couldn’t stay here, helpless and at the mercy of a man who refused to show his face.