Chapter 42: chapter 42

S A N M A Y I The fires of Amaravati smoldered behind me, their smoke curling into the bruised sky like the ghost of a kingdom that once stood proud. Victory, if it could be called that, felt hollow.The streets, slick with rain and blood, echoed with the cries of the wounded and the dying. Broken bodies—soldiers, rebels, civilians—lay strewn across the cobblestones, some still clutching weapons, others lifelessly sprawled where they had fallen. I walked among them, my steps heavy, my sword dragging uselessly at my side.This was not how I imagined it.When the rebellion began, I had envisioned triumph as something clean and righteous—a vindication of my family’s suffering. I thought victory would feel like justice, like the fulfillment of all the prayers I had whispered over my mother’s ashes.But this?This was ruin.---Ranajay sat slumped against a collapsed column in the palace courtyard, his once-pristine armor dented and streaked with grime. Blood seeped through the fabric of his tunic at his side, a crimson stain that spread with every shallow breath he took.I found him there, alone, the chaos of the city a dull roar in the distance. He looked up as I approached, his expression unreadable beneath the grime and exhaustion etched into his face.“Come to finish me off?” he asked, his voice hoarse but edged with something that might have been amusement—or bitterness.I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I sheathed my blade and crouched before him, studying the wound at his side. It wasn’t fatal, but it would need tending soon if he didn’t want to bleed out.“Why are you here, Ranajay?” I asked, my voice low. “Why didn’t you leave with the others?”He leaned his head back against the column, closing his eyes. “Where would I go? My father’s kingdom lies in ruins, my allies have turned their backs, and the woman I… the woman I betrayed hates me.”His words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. I swallowed hard, my heart twisting in a way I didn’t understand—or maybe didn’t want to.“I didn’t think you’d give up so easily,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.“I didn’t give up,” he said, his eyes opening to meet mine. “I chose.”I frowned. “Chose what?”“To end it,” he said simply. “The lies, the bloodshed, the endless cycle of hatred. I thought it would be enough.”“But it wasn’t,” I said, bitterness creeping into my tone. “Look around you, Ranajay. This is what your choice has brought. Death, destruction—”“And do you think you’ve done any better?” he snapped, his eyes blazing. “You think your rebellion has brought justice? Look at what’s left of your so-called victory. A city in flames, a kingdom in ruins. Tell me, Sanmayi, does it feel like vengeance? Does it feel like justice?”His words struck a nerve, and I stood abruptly, turning away from him. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to admit that he might be right.Because deep down, I already knew.---The palace was eerily silent as I walked through its halls, the once-grand walls now scarred by battle. Tapestries hung in tatters, their vibrant colors dulled by smoke and soot. The throne room, where King Jayavikram had once presided over his court with an iron fist, now lay in shambles.This was supposed to be a triumph—a symbol of Amaravati’s fall and my family’s redemption. But all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of loss.Loss for the lives taken, for the innocence stolen, for the realization that nothing I did could bring back what I had lost.I sank to my knees in the middle of the throne room, my head in my hands. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, soft and melodic, as she had sung to me on the nights I couldn’t sleep. My father’s laughter, warm and reassuring, when I stumbled through my first sword lesson.I had fought for them, for their memory, but it felt like I had failed them all the same.---I found Ranajay again as the first light of dawn broke through the smoke-laden sky. He was still sitting where I had left him, though his breathing had grown shallower, his skin pale beneath the grime.“You’re going to die if you stay here,” I said bluntly, crouching beside him once more.“Maybe that’s for the best,” he muttered, a humorless smile tugging at his lips.I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. “No. You don’t get to die here. Not like this.”He stared at me for a long moment, his expression softening. “Why do you care, Sanmayi?”I didn’t have an answer—not one that made sense. All I knew was that I couldn’t leave him here to bleed out and become another casualty of this senseless war.“I don’t know,” I admitted finally. “Maybe because despite everything, I know you’re not the monster I wanted you to be.”He chuckled weakly, the sound more a rasp than a laugh. “High praise.”I helped him to his feet, slipping his arm around my shoulders to support his weight. He leaned on me heavily, his steps faltering as we made our way through the ruined streets.The city was eerily quiet now, the fires reduced to smoldering embers, the cries of the wounded fading into the background. The rebels had taken control, their banners flying over the palace walls, but the victory felt hollow.For both of us.---As we reached the edge of the city, Ranajay spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.“Do you think it was worth it?”I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know if there was an answer.“I don’t know,” I said finally, my voice trembling. “But I do know that we can’t go back.”He nodded, his eyes distant. “No, we can’t.”We stood there for a moment, two figures against the backdrop of a city in ruins, each carrying the weight of choices that could never be undone.The road ahead was uncertain , shrouded in the heavy mist of what we had lost and what we might never regain.Ranajay leaned against me, his weight a reminder of his fragility in this moment—so at odds with the unyielding presence he had always been in my life, both as enemy and...something more complicated. His breaths came shallow but steady, and I felt his struggle to stay upright, to hold on to some semblance of strength even as his body betrayed him.“Sanmayi,” he said softly, almost too softly to hear.“Yes?” I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, where the first hints of sunlight painted the smoke-filled sky.“I wasn’t lying when I said I cared for you,” he murmured. “Even now, after everything, that hasn’t changed.”I closed my eyes, his words cutting through me like a blade. I wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter, that the blood on his hands could never be washed away, that the pain he’d caused me could never be undone. But the truth was more complicated than that.“I know,” I said finally, my voice barely audible. “But caring doesn’t erase what’s been done. It doesn’t bring back the lives we’ve taken or the lives we’ve lost.”He let out a hollow laugh, the sound tinged with bitterness. “Then what does it matter?”“It matters because...” I hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Because even in all this chaos, in all this destruction, it means we’re still human. That we can still feel, still hope, even when everything else has been taken from us.”Ranajay was silent for a long moment, his head bowed. When he finally spoke, his voice was filled with a quiet resignation.“And what do you hope for, Sanmayi? After all this?”I turned to face him, my gaze locking with his. His dark eyes were filled with something I couldn’t quite name—regret, perhaps, or something deeper, something more vulnerable.“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe I hope for a world where we don’t have to keep fighting, where we don’t have to keep losing the people we love. But I don’t know if that world will ever exist.”His hand tightened on my shoulder, a faint spark of strength amid his exhaustion. “Maybe it won’t. But if it does...would you let me be part of it?”I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because no matter how much I wanted to believe in that possibility, I couldn’t ignore the weight of what lay between us—the blood, the betrayal, the unspoken truths that neither of us could escape.Instead, I turned away, my eyes fixed once more on the horizon. The city lay behind us, its walls crumbling, its people broken. Ahead, the road stretched into uncertainty, its destination unknown.“Come on,” I said finally, my voice firm. “We need to find shelter. You won’t last long like this.”He nodded wordlessly, his grip on me tightening as we began to move again. Each step was a struggle, each breath a reminder of the pain and sacrifice that had brought us to this point.But for the first time, I allowed myself to hope—just a little—that maybe, amidst the ruins, we could find a way to rebuild. Not the world we had lost, but something new. Something better.The road to ruin, I realized, wasn’t just an ending. It was also a beginning.