2.
Six months after the Kartik festival, the royal palace of Vanga had learned to breathe around the flame.
Carefully.
Almost reverently.
The diya remained within Devasena's chambers day and night, guarded with devotion that bordered dangerously close to fear.
Servants replaced the oil before sunrise and again before dusk.
Priests blessed the room every morning. Even palace maids lowered their voices upon entering, as though loudness itself might disturb whatever unseen force lived within the tiny unmoving flame.
But no one cared for it the way Devasena did.
No one was allowed to.
At first Queen Vaidehi had attempted entrusting the diya briefly to temple attendants during Devasena's lessons.
The eight-year-old had cried so heartbreakingly the entire palace surrendered immediately afterward.
Since then, the flame rarely left her hands.
She carried it everywhere within a small golden lantern crafted specially by Vanga's finest artisans. Tiny lotus motifs decorated its sides while delicate openings allowed the flame to breathe safely inside.
Dyumsena privately believed the entire kingdom had lost its mind.
"You are carrying it to breakfast now?" he asked flatly.
Devasena looked deeply offended from across the dining hall. "It cannot eat alone."
"It is a flame."
"It has feelings."
"It is fire."
Queen Vaidehi pressed her lips together carefully, very obviously hiding laughter behind her goblet.
King Veerendra failed entirely.
Dyumsena stared at both his parents with betrayal. "You encourage this behavior."
"She is devoted," Queen Vaidehi corrected softly.
"She is dramatic."
Devasena gasped. "Bhai!"
"You named the flame yesterday."
"It needed identity."
Dyumsena leaned back slowly, rubbing his forehead with visible exhaustion.
"What did you even name it?"
Devasena blinked once.
Then proudly—
"Deepu."
King Veerendra choked on his drink.
Queen Vaidehi lowered her face immediately, shoulders trembling suspiciously.
Dyumsena looked toward the heavens as though personally asking the gods for strength.
Unfortunately for him, Devasena only became more attached to the flame as months passed.
Especially after the nightmares began.
Sometimes she woke suddenly before dawn with her tiny hands trembling around the lantern, heart pounding for reasons she could never explain.
Dreams she never fully remembered lingered afterward—storms, distant flute music, shadows moving through endless rain.
And always—
the strange feeling that someone far away was calling for her.
So she protected the flame fiercely.
As though instinct itself demanded it.
Which was precisely how Dyumsena found himself suffering greatly six months later.
"No."
"Bhai."
"No."
"Please?"
"Absolutely not."
Devasena followed him relentlessly through the palace corridors, the golden lantern swinging gently from her tiny hands while Dyumsena continued walking with the calm despair of a man already losing the argument.
"I will sit quietly."
"That sentence alone proves you cannot come."
"I can!"
"You interrupted royal priests three days ago because you thought they looked sad.
"
"They did look sad."
"You offered them laddoos during prayers.
"
"They accepted them."
Dyumsena pinched the bridge of his nose.
The morning court hearings were among the few places within the palace Devasena had never been allowed.
Matters of trade, diplomacy, taxes, military affairs, and political disputes filled the royal court daily—responsibilities Dyumsena now attended regularly as Crown Prince.
Naturally, Devasena had become obsessed with seeing it.
And unfortunately—
nobody in Vanga possessed the strength required to deny her forever.
"Please?" she tried again, now walking backwards dramatically in front of him. "I shall behave with unmatched dignity."
"You nearly fought a swan last week."
"It insulted me."
"It was a bird."
"It knew what it did."
A servant passing nearby failed spectacularly at hiding laughter.
Dyumsena finally stopped walking.
Devasena immediately brightened hopefully.
He stared down at her for several long moments, arms folded across royal indigo robes while she looked back with the devastating confidence of someone fully aware she would win eventually.
"You remain beside me," he warned finally.
Her entire face lit up.
"You agree?!"
"You speak only when spoken to."
"I am the image of silence."
"You are the enemy of silence."
"But a lovable enemy."
Dyumsena sighed deeply.
"Gods help me."
"They clearly abandoned you long ago."
By the time they reached the royal court, rain had begun falling softly outside.
The great sabha hall of Vanga resembled the kingdom itself—elegant rather than intimidating.
Massive carved pillars lined the chamber, wrapped in golden detailing depicting sacred rivers and blooming lotuses.
Open archways overlooked rain-soaked palace gardens while dozens of oil lamps illuminated polished marble floors beneath drifting incense smoke.
Ministers already filled the hall.
The moment Devasena entered beside Dyumsena, several elderly councilmen visibly softened.
One minister smiled immediately. "Rajkumari."
Devasena smiled brightly back before remembering dignity.
Then attempted looking serious.
The result was deeply unconvincing.
Dyumsena guided her toward the raised platform beside the throne, lowering himself into the Crown Prince's seat with practiced composure while Devasena sat beside him cross-legged, carefully placing the golden lantern in her lap.
The flame glowed softly behind carved lotus patterns.
Court proceedings began slowly.
Trade discussions from eastern ports.
River flooding concerns near nearby villages.
Temple restorations.
Devasena listened surprisingly attentively at first, eyes wide with curiosity while rain tapped softly against marble outside.
Then gradually—
she became bored.
Deeply bored.
She leaned toward Dyumsena slightly, whispering behind one hand.
"Do all ministers speak like sleepy turtles?"
Dyumsena's shoulders shook once.
Barely.
"Sit properly," he murmured without looking at her.
"I am proper."
"You are upside down."
Devasena corrected her posture with visible dignity.
Three minutes later, she was bored again.
Then—
the atmosphere shifted.
One of the royal ministers entered hurriedly through the great hall doors, rainwater still clinging to the edges of his robes. His expression carried excitement rarely seen within formal court proceedings.
King Veerendra noticed immediately.
"What news?"
The minister bowed quickly.
"Your Majesty," he breathed, unable to hide astonishment from his voice, "Mathura has fallen."
The court erupted instantly.
Dyumsena straightened sharply.
Several ministers began speaking over one another in disbelief.
"What?"
"Kansa defeated?"
"Impossible."
The minister shook his head slowly, almost wonderingly.
"Not impossible."
He smiled faintly.
"Prophecy."
Silence spread carefully now.
Even the rain outside seemed quieter.
"The tyrant King Kansa has been slain," the minister continued. "By the eighth son of Devaki and Vasudev exactly as foretold years ago."
Murmurs spread across the court.
Some shocked.
Some relieved.
Some reverent.
"They say the prince entered Mathura openly," another minister whispered almost breathlessly. "Faced Kansa before the entire kingdom."
"A mere boy," someone murmured.
"No ordinary boy," an elderly advisor corrected immediately, eyes darkening with awe. "The child prophecy itself protected."
The mood within the court transformed slowly from disbelief into something deeper.
Wonder.
The ministers began speaking over one another now.
"The Yadava prince—"
"The incarnation destined to end tyranny—"
"They say even death hesitates before him—"
"Mathura celebrates him already.
"
Devasena listened quietly now.
No longer bored.
Something strange moved through the atmosphere.
Something she could not explain.
Then finally—
the minister spoke the name.