ZaviThe sky was painted with hues of red and orange as the sun dipped lower, its final rays casting a fiery glow over the training grounds. The burning torches on the enclosure walls flickered, their warm light illuminating the dust and sweat-soaked air around us. Shadows danced on the ground, stretching and shifting with every movement we made.Across from me stood Jormia, his broad frame heaving as he caught his breath. Sweat glistened on his skin, running down his temples and soaking the collar of his shirt. The veins on the side of his neck stood out, pulsing with the effort he'd put into our sparring. His grip on his sword was as firm as ever, unwavering despite the exhaustion etched on his face.Jormia was one of my finest soldiers, a warrior who could anticipate my moves as if he could read my thoughts. Training with him was always a challenge, a balance of skill and strength that pushed both of us to our limits. I relished these moments—the sharp clash of steel, the weight of the sword in my hand, the ache that spread through my muscles with each swing. Pain was a strange comfort, a reminder that I was alive and mortal, unlike the pedestal they had placed me on.I tightened my grip on my own blade, the hilt slick with sweat, and considered going for one more round. The thought of stopping now felt almost unbearable. My muscles burned, but that was the point. To push past the ache, to feel the sharp edge of exhaustion cutting through me—that was when I felt most alive.But then I glanced at Jormia. His eyes, though determined, betrayed a hint of weariness. I knew he would never back down unless I commanded it, even if his body screamed for rest. He had a family waiting for him—a wife and two children who would be wondering when he'd return home. Unlike the lifeless walls of my quarters, he had a reason to end the day here."That's enough for today," I said, lowering my blade and taking a step back. My voice was steady, commanding, but inwardly, I longed for more. "We'll train again tomorrow."Jormia straightened, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he sheathed his sword. "Thank you, my Raza," he said, bowing low in deference.I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to correct him. That title—Raza—was like a thorn buried under my skin. No matter how deeply I despised it, I couldn't strip it away. It was who I was to them, a title that came with expectations I could never escape. The weight of their reverence felt suffocating at times, a cage as gilded as it was unyielding.I tossed my blade onto the rack and grabbed the towel from the nearby bench, wiping the sweat from my face and arms. The sting of the day's exertion lingered in every fiber of my body. Pulling my shirt over my head, I turned toward my quarters.Ashu, who had been sitting at a respectful distance throughout the session, rose and followed me without a word. His silent presence was as constant as the shadows at my heels. I didn't need to instruct him; he knew his role too well.As I approached my quarters, I saw the kitchen girls waiting in front of my door. Their heads were bowed low, hands clasped in front of them as if in silent prayer. A trolley laden with food stood between them, the polished silver dishes glinting in the torchlight.Once, as a child, such displays had filled me with excitement. The lavish spreads, the sweet aroma of spiced meats and freshly baked bread, the sense of being special—it had all made me feel like I belonged, like I was destined for greatness.Now, I saw it for what it was: a carefully laid trap. The food, the reverence, the endless luxury—it was all designed to bind me to this role, to shape me into the Raza they needed me to be. A king who would continue the cycle, repeating the legacy of my forefathers without question.My guards pushed the grand double doors open with practiced precision, the creak echoing through the silence. I stepped inside without a glance back. The kitchen girls, heads still bowed, remained rooted in place outside. They wouldn't dare enter unless commanded to do so. Even if the night stretched into dawn, if the sun rose and set again, they would stand there, unyielding, until their bodies gave out from sheer exhaustion.Part of me was tempted to test their patience, to see just how far their discipline—or fear—would take them. Would they collapse from exhaustion before daring to disobey? Would they curse my name in their hearts while maintaining their stoic exteriors? The thought flickered briefly in my mind before I dismissed it. What would be the point? They already hated me, feared me. My cruelty would surprise no one.This arrogance, this cold indifference—it had become second nature. There was a time I had struggled with it, wrestled against the weight of what I was expected to be. But those days were gone. Now, I knew my place, what I was meant to do, what was demanded of me."Come in," I called out after my shower, toweling off the last beads of water from my skin. The girls hurried inside, their movements swift yet careful, like birds trying not to provoke a predator. They positioned themselves near my bed, silently lifting the lids from the platters they had brought.The room filled with the aroma of delicacies prepared by Ashudhar's finest cooks. Spices and rich flavors swirled in the air, scents that once would have stirred excitement in me as a child. Now, they meant little. Just another part of the endless cycle of indulgence I had grown numb to. I sat down, pulling a platter closer, but the food barely registered. Each bite was mechanical, the taste forgotten the moment it touched my tongue.The girls stood motionless as I ate, statues carved from obedience and fear. My appetite waned quickly, leaving half the food untouched. I pushed the platter aside, watching as the girls gathered the dishes and wheeled the trolley out of the room. I wondered briefly what became of the untouched food. Thrown away, most likely. Consuming food meant for royalty was a crime—another absurdity of this world.As the door shut behind them, a voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Well fed?" Kimbal asked, stepping into view. His faint smile carried a tinge of mockery, though his tone was light. He had been my royal advisor for the past ten years. I knew some of family members didn't like him and perhaps that's why I could trust him. I rolled my eyes, brushing past him toward the window. The expanse of the palace grounds stretched out before me, the lantern-lit paths crisscrossing the vast lawns. I thought this was my house. I longed to come back to where I belong. Now I saw it as nothing but a golden cage. "Why are you here?" I asked without turning to face him, my tone as flat as the walls around us."You know why," Kimbal replied, the humor vanishing from his voice. He was one of the few people who dared speak plainly to me, one of the few whose opinions I tolerated—even valued. Perhaps it was because he never sugarcoated the truth, even when I wished he would."Just tell me." My voice dropped, carrying the weight of impatience.Kimbal's jaw tightened, his tone serious. "You shouldn't have gone to the Kaambh quarters."Like I wanted to go. That place sickened me. Every time I stepped foot there, it was as if the filth and stench clung to my very soul, a constant reminder of how far we had fallen. But my brothers and uncles loved that place. It was almost a way to keep the monster fed so they didn't ran rampant in the town. It was almost comical if it wasn't true. Akun knew exactly what he was doing when he tried to assault her. He knew it would provoke me, make me act. It was a game to him—a twisted way to force my hand, to see how much I'd bend before I broke. Humans had been banned from the palace ever since Malith rose to power. It was one of the few laws I hadn't dared to challenge, and I had no intention of changing that. If Akun wanted to wallow in filth, he should have been the last person I stopped.To say I regretted my impulsive decision to intervene would be the understatement of the century."I stopped my brother from doing something wrong, that's it." The lie rolled off my tongue effortlessly.Kimbal stood across from me, arms crossed, his gaze steady yet careful. "I am trying my best to find a way to send her back. You need to be patient," he said, deliberately avoiding her name. We were never truly alone in the palace. The walls had ears, and most of them were loyal to the Shadows, not to their Raza."I don't care," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. Anger boiled beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. "I should have let Akun kill her. He's insane enough to destroy himself just to drag me down with him.""We both know you don't mean that," Kimbal replied softly, his voice carrying that familiar tone he used when I was a child. Back then, he would visit me in the human world, his presence a rare comfort amidst the chaos."Then you don't know me," I shot back, though the words rang hollow. There was a time when I felt—when I cared—but that person was gone. Dead and buried. Now, I was just the Raza, a shell molded to fit the expectations of everyone around me."I'm glad you know your priorities," Kimbal said, his tone tinged with sadness. For a moment, it seemed like he regretted what he had made me into.Part of me envied him. He could shield his heart when necessary, drawing on it when he needed strength. I wasn't like that. I was too much like the humans I despised. Everything with me was black or white—there was no room for gray.I couldn't hesitate when ordering death sentences. I couldn't flinch when men's heads were severed from their bodies or when their limbs were hacked off for petty crimes. Once, I would have prayed for mercy, begged Godess Shakti for forgiveness in the solitude of my room. But that was a lifetime ago.Now, I was ruthless. I had no choice but to be. I couldn't afford to feel, not even if I wanted to."I'm telling you again—you need to keep your distance from her," Kimbal said, his voice firmer now."You don't have to tell me twice. I know exactly what I need to do." My tone was cold, detached, but it was the truth."Good." Kimbal nodded, the faintest flicker of approval crossing his face. "Very well. I should take my leave. Have a good night." He bowed, the gesture a calculated blend of respect and formality, and then turned to leave.As the door closed behind him, silence enveloped the room once more. I stared at the flickering lanterns on the far wall, their shadows dancing like phantoms. My mind drifted, unbidden, to her. To the moment I'd stopped Akun. To the look of terror in her eyes.I clenched my fists, forcing the memories away. Kimbal was right. I needed to stay away from her. No good could come from letting her linger in my thoughts.But the harder I tried to push her out, the more she lingered, like a ghost refusing to be exorcised.