The night the curse was born, the sky bled. For centuries, The kingdom of Kshatragarh had been on the verge of ruin when its desperate king knelt before the darkness itself, offering everything-his soul, his lineage, his throne-for a single boon. Crimson clouds choked the moon, and the air reeked of fire, of blood, of a promise that should never have been made. The Devil had granted his wish. But no gift from the abyss came without a price. Generations later, On the edge of ruin, its fate sealed unless an ancient prophecy is fulfilled. The kingdom still bore the weight of that bargain. A throne that chose its ruler, bound not by lineage, but by blood. A kingdom that could never truly be free, for its power was not its own. And now, the throne stirred again. King Rudra Abhay Vardhan Rathore-the warrior king of Kshatragarh. Queen Mrunalini Rajadhyaksha-the untamed ruler of Sinhsthali. Bound by war. Chained by duty. Doomed by prophecy. Yet, what neither of them knew was this-the throne had already made its choice. And it was not the king who would sit upon it. It was another. And the night the curse awakened once more, the kingdom would drown in blood. _________________________________________________________________________________ In the council chambers, she maneuvered through politics like a seasoned warrior. "Do you truly think you rule alone?" she had taunted one evening, dressed in a deep red saree, her voice like silk but her words sharp as a blade. "I was born to be queen long before I was your wife." He had stepped closer , his breath warm against her temple. "And yet, you stand in my court, wearing my colors, ruling my land." She had not moved. Had not flinched. Instead, she had lifted her chin, her lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk. "The kingdom and throne did belonged to you, but make no mistake MAHARAJ-They are watching me now."