Crown of the Cursed King

"When the river turns red, even the sun must bow behind clouds."

---

The sun hung low over the horizon of Vaithara as the city bells tolled with a grief so deep it silenced even the gods.

Meesha was gone.

Her blood had soaked the battlefield, her breath stilled by the very prince she was destined never to meet in peace — Kaaryan, son of Adityan. The arrow never left her bow. Her last words were a whisper carried only by the wind.

Vivaraj stood beside the pyre, unmoving, a stone carved by sorrow.

Raveen wept silently, her trembling hands holding a crushed lotus — the flower Meesha wore always in her braid.

Queen Lirasha, for the first time in decades, wore her war cloak.

But it was the fire in Vivaraj's eyes that foretold what was coming.

He would no longer send generals.

He would no longer negotiate.

He would ride into battle himself.

---

The Lion of Vaithara Roars

Within three days, the armies of Vaithara thundered across the western plains. Vivaraj personally led the vanguard — adorned in his father's old armor, etched with runes of war and blood oath.

Drums of vengeance echoed across valleys. The twin banners of the River Crown and the Broken Bow rose side by side. And for the first time in generations, forbidden units returned — elemental magicians, cloaked druids, and illusionists who once ruled old wars before magic was outlawed by the Council of Kings.

Lirasha herself unlocked the hidden vault beneath the Temple of Aeyra — summoning the Forest Circle, magicians trained in wind, water, and shadow. The ancient pact was broken. War would no longer be bound by rules.

"Svarlokh has forsaken peace," Vivaraj declared. "Let them now remember fear."

---

Svarlokh Trembles

The news hit Adityan like a landslide.

He stood inside the marble war chamber, Salagar beside him. A hundred maps were laid out before him, but none could predict this rage, this storm.

"Vivaraj marches… not to border, but to the heart," a scout reported.

"To the capital itself," Salagar added gravely. "He means to burn Svarlokh."

Adityan's fists clenched. He had ruled through strategy, strength, and legacy. But now, he faced fury unmeasured — a father's wrath, powered by grief.

"What of Kaaryan?" he asked suddenly.

"Retreating. Fast as he can. But if Vivaraj's second legion reaches the eastern ridge, he won't make it home."

Adityan turned to Salagar, heart torn.

"Call him back. Now. And seal the gates. This is no longer a skirmish. This… is annihilation."

---

The River is Taken

While Vivaraj's primary force surged toward Svarlokh, his second division moved silently along the river path — storming the water control stations that fed Nordrak and even parts of Vaithara's lower valleys.

By the time Adityan realized, the river was lost.

Aqueducts were destroyed. Channels sealed. Entire agricultural belts would dry in weeks.

"By the gods…" Salagar whispered. "He's not just fighting for vengeance. He's choking the kingdom."

"We must respond," Adityan growled.

"But how?"

Salagar stepped forward, his eyes sharp with dangerous resolve.

"We send word to Revansh."

Adityan froze. "To him? After a decade of cold silence?"

"You want to win, not bleed." Salagar's voice was cold. "Tell him Vivaraj has used magic. Tell him the very law he swore to uphold has been broken. Revansh is a warrior of honor. He cannot ignore this."

Adityan hesitated.

Then, he nodded.

---

Revansh Receives the Message

Atop the cold cliffs of Nordrak, the message arrived — carried by a falcon wearing Svarlokh's gold seal.

Revansh read it quietly, his face unreadable.

Aenya watched from across the chamber. "What do they want?"

He handed her the scroll.

"They say Vivaraj used forbidden magic. That he's turning this war into chaos."

Aenya's brow furrowed. "And Adityan wants you to punish him? That's clever."

Revansh stood in silence. His mind wasn't on politics. It was on Meesha's death… the river taken… and now, the collapse of the old code.

"They don't just want justice," he murmured. "They want an alliance against Vivaraj… by feeding my honor."

Aenya placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"And what does your heart say?"

Revansh looked out over the icy valley. "That I must stop him… but not on Adityan's terms."

---

A Clash of Brothers

Revansh rode fast, alone but for a single envoy, carrying a white flag and his kingdom's crest. He crossed scorched lands and broken bridges, until he finally stood before Vivaraj's second camp — at the edge of the river ruins.

The guards parted without question.

Inside, Vivaraj sat beneath a war tent, maps and scrolls beside him, his sword unsheathed and embedded in a log.

When he saw Revansh, he stood tall, his face aging not with time, but with pain.

"Brother," Revansh said. "We need to talk."

"No more talk," Vivaraj growled. "Svarlokh betrayed peace. I bring reckoning."

"You used forbidden magic, Vivaraj."

Vivaraj's eyes narrowed. "You came to lecture me?"

"You broke the one law that kept war from becoming slaughter."

"I lost my daughter!" Vivaraj's voice cracked — not just with rage, but heartbreak. "She died in the mud, pierced by the prince of the man who calls himself king. You think I care for laws now?"

Revansh stepped closer, jaw clenched.

"You think you're the only one who's lost? You think I don't feel every scar this war has left?"

"She was my blood, Revansh."

"And Kaaryan is mine, as much as he is Adityan's!" Revansh snapped. "You want justice, not vengeance! And this… this is vengeance that'll drown us all!"

Vivaraj turned away. For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, quietly, "Did you come to stop me… or join me?"

Revansh's silence was answer enough.

Vivaraj's hand gripped his sword hilt. "Then leave, brother. Next time we meet… it will be across steel."