In the years after Emperor Ishvan's passing, the ideals he had instilled in **Virasthan** began to shift under the weight of tradition and human ambition. While his successor, the common-born ruler **Samrudh**, upheld Ishvan's legacy with dignity, the noble houses, once chastened by Ishvan's reforms, slowly regained their influence. As time passed, the egalitarian principles Ishvan had championed gave way to the old rhythms of power, lineage, and privilege.
Amidst this evolving landscape, one king would emerge whose story would become as much a cautionary tale as a legend: **King Shayan**, the grandson of Samrudh. Shayan inherited an empire that still bore the echo of Ishvan's golden age, though the cracks of discord and entitlement had begun to show. A man of both strength and passion, Shayan was beloved by his people but haunted by the shadow of expectations he could never fully escape.
### A Chance Encounter
It was during one of Shayan's famed hunting excursions into the **Verdhan Woods** that his destiny took an unexpected turn. The woods, vast and untamed, bordered the **Lokta River**, a wild and unyielding force that had both nourished and threatened the lands of Virasthan for centuries. For Shayan, the hunt was a rare reprieve from the burdens of kingship—a chance to lose himself in the primal thrill of the chase.
That day, as his retinue followed the trail of a stag deep into the forest, Shayan's attention was drawn to the soft murmur of water. The Lokta's currents were quieter in this season, and the river's edge shimmered in the afternoon sun. Drawn by the sight, he dismounted and approached the bank, leaving his attendants behind.
There, amid the glistening waters, stood a woman unlike any he had ever seen.
She was clad in simple robes of white, her hair a cascade of dark waves that seemed to drink the light. She held a clay pot, tilting it to fill it with water from the river. Her movements were serene, almost otherworldly, as though she were part of the river itself.
Shayan froze, transfixed. In all his years, he had never encountered such beauty, but it was more than her appearance that captivated him. There was a profound stillness in her presence, a sense of ancient wisdom and quiet power that stirred something deep within him.
"Who are you?" he asked, stepping closer.
The woman turned to him, her expression calm but unreadable. "A traveler," she replied, her voice soft yet firm, as if it carried the weight of unseen truths.
Shayan shook his head. "You are no ordinary traveler. Are you a goddess? A spirit of the Lokta?"
A flicker of something passed over her face—humor, perhaps, or sorrow. "I am Gahana," she said simply. "And you, my lord, should return to your hunt."
But Shayan could not tear himself away. "Come with me," he said impulsively. "To Madhura. Be my queen."
Gahana's gaze did not waver, but her lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "If you wish me to be your queen, you must first swear an oath."
"Name it," Shayan said, his heart already lost to her.
"You must never question my actions," she said, her voice steady. "No matter what I do, no matter how strange or cruel it may seem, you must remain silent. Do you swear this?"
The demand was strange, even unsettling, but Shayan, blinded by his infatuation, agreed without hesitation.
"I swear it," he said.
And with that, Gahana became the queen of Virasthan.
### The Silent Pact
At first, their union seemed blessed. Gahana's beauty and grace captivated the court, and Shayan, known for his impulsive nature, seemed steadied by her presence. Together, they brought a new vitality to the palace, and the people of Madhura welcomed their queen with open arms.
In time, Gahana bore Shayan a son, and the kingdom erupted in celebration. The child, named **Vyantar**, was strong and healthy, the perfect heir to the throne. Shayan was overjoyed, his heart swelling with pride as he held his son for the first time.
But that joy was short-lived.
Late one night, Shayan awoke to find Gahana missing from their chambers. Fearing for her safety, he searched the palace and followed the faint sound of her footsteps to the riverbank.
There, under the pale light of the moon, he saw her standing in the shallows of the Lokta, their infant son cradled in her arms.
"Gahana!" he called, his voice tinged with panic.
She turned to him, her face calm but resolute. "Go back, Shayan," she said.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, stepping closer.
Her expression did not change. "Remember your oath."
Before he could react, Gahana stepped deeper into the water and released Vyantar into the current. The infant disappeared beneath the river's surface, his cries swallowed by the rushing water.
Shayan stood frozen, horror and disbelief rendering him mute. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but her words echoed in his mind: *You must never question my actions.*
When Gahana returned to the palace, her face betrayed no hint of emotion. Shayan, bound by his oath, said nothing. But the weight of what he had witnessed crushed him.
### A Repeated Tragedy
The tragedy repeated itself with their next child, and the next. Each time, Gahana bore a son, and each time, she walked to the river and let the waters claim the infant's life.
Shayan's anguish deepened with every loss. His court began to whisper of curses and dark omens, their murmurs growing louder with each passing year. Yet no one dared to confront the queen, for Shayan's silence on the matter was absolute.
Only his most trusted advisor, **Minister Rayan**, dared to speak.
"My king," Rayan said one evening as they walked in the palace gardens, "the people are restless. They see the queen as a curse upon the land. You must act, or risk the stability of the kingdom."
Shayan shook his head, his expression weary. "I cannot. I swore an oath to her, Rayan. To break it would be to betray myself."
"And what of the children, my king? What of the throne? How long can this go on?"
Shayan had no answer.
### The Breaking Point
When Gahana bore their eighth child, Shayan could bear it no longer. That night, when she left the palace once more, he followed her to the riverbank.
As she stepped into the water, their infant son in her arms, Shayan broke his silence.
"Stop!" he shouted, his voice filled with anguish. "Why do you do this, Gahana? What sin have I or these children committed to deserve this fate?"
Gahana turned to him, her eyes filled with a sadness he had never seen before. "You have broken your oath, Shayan."
"So be it!" he cried. "I cannot watch this happen again. Tell me the truth, or I will never forgive you!"
For a long moment, Gahana was silent. Then she sighed, the weight of unspoken truths settling over her.
"I am not who you think I am," she said. "I am the spirit of the Lokta, bound by a celestial curse. These children were not meant to live mortal lives. They were divine beings, sent to this world to fulfill a higher purpose. The river is their path back to the heavens."
Shayan's heart broke anew as he realized the depth of her burden. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because the curse demanded secrecy," she replied. "And now that you have broken your vow, my time here is at an end."
With those words, Gahana stepped deeper into the river. The waters rose to meet her, enveloping her in a shimmering embrace. Before Shayan could reach her, she dissolved into the current, leaving behind only the faintest ripple.
### Aftermath
The loss of Gahana and his children left Shayan a shadow of the man he had once been. The court grew divided, with nobles questioning his judgment and the people mourning their lost queen without ever knowing the truth of her sacrifice.
Shayan's reign continued, but his heart was heavy with regret and sorrow. The story of Gahana and the oath he had sworn to her became a tale whispered in hushed tones throughout Virasthan—a legend of love, sacrifice, and the devastating cost of silence.
And though the Lokta River continued to flow, its currents seemed to carry with them the memory of a queen who had bridged the realms of mortals and gods, leaving behind a legacy as haunting as it was eternal.