𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗘 𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗗𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦

𝟱. 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗚𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗙

TW: suicide and self-harm.

Vijayaprastha, Kadamba Rajya, Dwapara Yuga

Back to the present

It's been 6 months since Ahyan was staying in the royal palace in the capital. This time was a blur, where he went from being disassociated from emotions to avoid feeling pain to slowly accepting his reality and building a new present.

First came denial. He couldn't believe that something like this could happen in real life. He pinched himself to come out of the dream. He didn't sleep at night, fearing he'd live in this illusion forever. He checked for hidden cameras to see if this was a sick prank. He even spied on the servants and his attendants as if they were working for some psychotic cult. After eliminating all the impossibilities, he concluded, whatever remains must be the truth.

Then it was the summer of anger. He was angry at everything and everyone, including himself. "I just wanted to draw a butterfly, dammit!" he groaned. He cursed at his ex to his heart's content. "Fuck you, Revanth, you bloody cunt! I hope you rot in Dante's inferno!" he screamed into his pillow.

As the days passed by, he channelled his frustrations towards art. After all, he was a Webtoon artist before his life became a mess. He drew for popular comics like 'Mirayah wants to grow mushrooms on her body'. Artists here mostly used mineral-based dyes like Azurite, Malachite, Opriment and Vermillion. As for brushes, they're made of pig and squirrel hair, depending on the precision of strokes needed. Canvases are called Patta, but he didn't know what they were made of and honestly he couldn't care less. He just needed an outlet to vent his frustrations. He unleashed his wrath on the canvases and created masterpieces. He ate, painted, and slept every day.

His days went in a daze, where he remembered fractions of getting bathed in scented water with herbs and flowers, dressed in familiar garments he had seen in period dramas, decked in gold jewellery, and eating in big thalis in his room. His room became his world.

In the autumn of isolation, Ahyan shut out the entire world. Whenever the royal couple or the others approached him, he was polite yet distant from them, with an empty smile and nod.

Later came the winter of depression. He lost the hunger and spent all day staring at a random point in a daze. He cried himself to sleep, soaking the pillows with tears of sorrow.

"There's no point in living like this, is it? All I see is an endless tunnel of darkness with no way out. If I can't get back my life, then what's the point of living?" he thought morosely while having his bath in the luxurious pool. With great difficulty, he sent the attendants away. When he was sure there was no one in the bath, he took out the fruit knife he had with him and cut across his left wrist near the pulse. "Goodbye world," he whispered as his vision went black.

Nishaat is a guard from the elite shadows under the imperial command. When the commander assigned him to the royal guest, who was saved when the royal family performed the annual yagna. He did his duty, following him in the shades.

He's one odd man, for sure. His fumbling with his antariya and uttariya, but denying assistance from his attendants, is his daily dose of entertainment. Then again, he might have lost someone important. They found him on the shore where the havan was performed so he might be a victim of the Samudra Deva's anger and lost everything in the storm that hit a few days before the yagna.

"He's such an unfortunate soul," he sighed in pity. He had seen him going through various stages of grief – denial, anger, isolation and sadness. It's quite saddening to see a man slowly losing his will to exist. Time flew by. Despite the efforts of the royal couple, it seemed he stuck was in his head, unable to receive the love he was given.