Kiara / Aradhya
College going sweet and kind girl. Devotee of Tridev and Tridevi. Her parents are abusive so she ran away from them and now do various part time jobs to complete he studies. Always hides her pain and sadness behind her hollow smile. she is a millionaire as she is a great and famous artist Aaina but donates the money she earns from it. Her paintings told a story . She is also good in fighting and weaponry but is excellent in archery . She is always fascinated about Mahabharat and Ramayana .She didn’t know why her heart ached at the thought of Draupadi standing humiliated before the court, or why her hands itched to defend Karna from the cruel weight of his curses. She didn’t understand the pang of sorrow she felt for Krishna, bound by Gandhari’s grief and rage. All she knew was that she wanted to protect them — fiercely, quietly, instinctively — as if some invisible thread tugged her toward them. It was a wish, pure and unspoken, yet it burned brighter than any fear or doubt. Little did she know, that silent yearning was the first stirrings of a power older than the ages, waiting for the right moment to awaken.
She didn’t understand the fire that lurked in her chest, the anger that could rise like a storm at the smallest injustice. It terrified her — not the world, not the people around her, but herself. She had learned to hide it, to hold it back, to walk carefully through every day as though she carried a volcano in her chest. No one could calm it, no one could reason with it… and yet, in the quietest corners of her mind, a small, unspoken hope lingered — that maybe, just maybe, there was someone out there who could. Someone who could meet her fury with a gaze and not fear it. Until then, she would continue to tame the storm alone, unaware that the world had already begun shifting to bring that someone into her life.
King Rudraksh
Rudraksha, King of Avanti, stood like a storm held in human form. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark wavy hair that caught the sunlight and stormy grey eyes that seemed to see through every thought, he carried the quiet authority of a born ruler. His chiseled features and tanned, battle-hardened skin spoke of countless campaigns, yet his presence radiated calm, a rare stillness that could steady even the most turbulent hearts. Clad in silk robes accented with golden armor engraved with Avanti’s motifs, a Rudraksha bead necklace resting against his chest, and a long, elegant sword at his side, he exuded both regality and lethal precision. Every movement was deliberate, graceful, and confident, hinting at power restrained, not flaunted. Compassion tempered his intensity, and a subtle charm lingered in the way he regarded those around him — perceptive, commanding, magnetic — the kind of man whose calm could quiet storms, even ones as wild as the fury she carried within her.
Rudraksha’s anger was a quiet storm, restrained yet deadly. Rarely seen, it burned like molten metal beneath his calm exterior, surfacing only when injustice touched those he loved or his kingdom. When it did flare, the world seemed to pause — not in fear, but in awe of its power. He had mastered it, bending it to reason and strategy, yet even in control, it carried a weight that could humble the strongest. She had yet to meet him, and yet, in some unspoken way, her own fire would one day collide with his.
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