“Hiranya stood silent and still on the trampled grass encircling Rajgadh Fortress, the ancient stronghold looming like a shadow against the dark veil he had summoned to shroud the kingdom. The chill of the coming siege crept into his bones. His thoughts wandered to a time when his hands knew the smooth stroke of reed pens instead of the cold weight of astras, when his nights were bathed in the flickering glow of diyas and not the blood drawn from hate and torment.”