In the grand hall of the Devarian family…
Fatty Ben and Mohini stood at the center, their wrists bound in thick, enchanted chains. Fatty's face was a mix of fear and nervousness, while Mohini glared coldly.
Palace guards stood around them, armed and watchful, their spears gleaming in the light.
At the head of the hall sat Patriarch Duran Devarian, lazily biting into a pink fruit that exuded a faint, sweet fragrance. His expression was smug, one of absolute power, as he stared down at the Fatty and Mohini.
Seated next to him was his spoiled son, Dabba, who was casting lustful glances at Mohini.
"Tell me, Why did you attack my son?" Duran asked, his tone dripping with disdain as he tossed the half-eaten fruit at Mohini's side.
