Chapter 1
There were five ancient forces of magic.
Fire. Ocean. Life. Shadow. Space.
Long before the kingdoms that now ruled the continent had borders, crowns, armies, or names, those five forces were believed to have shaped the world.
People built temples for them.
Kings fought over them.
Witches studied them.
And, over centuries, humans forgot how much of the old magic still remained.
They forgot many things.
But the ocean did not.
The ocean remembered everything.
Raktavya
Far beyond the peaceful countryside where most healers lived, surrounded by dark mountains and forests that never seemed completely silent, stood the kingdom of Raktavya.
It was a kingdom people spoke about carefully.
Not because it was the largest.
Not because it had the strongest army.
But because something about Raktavya had always felt... wrong.
Or perhaps ancient.
Its mountains were almost black beneath moonlight, and thick forests surrounded the kingdom like a wall. Strange plants grew between the rocks, some glowing faintly at night. Creatures that did not exist anywhere else in the continent were said to live deep within those forests.
And around the entire kingdom was the Veil.
A vast magical barrier.
During the day, it was almost invisible.
At night, however, crimson light travelled through it like veins beneath skin.
The people of Raktavya had lived beneath that barrier for generations.
They believed it protected them.
Others believed it imprisoned something.
No one knew which was true.
At the heart of the kingdom stood the capital.
Black stone towers rose above crowded streets. Crimson banners hung from balconies and fortress walls. Magical lanterns floated above market stalls, illuminating enchanted herbs, crystals, weapons, potions and strange objects whose purposes had been forgotten by ordinary people.
At the centre of everything stood the royal palace.
Unlike the warm golden palaces of neighbouring kingdoms, Raktavya's palace was built almost entirely from black stone.
Red stained-glass windows filled its halls with dark crimson light.
And on its highest floor sat the youngest queen Raktavya had ever known.
Swarangi.
Nineteen years old.
Queen for three years.
And feared by almost everyone who knew her name.
She had taken the throne at sixteen.
Not through inheritance.
Through blood.
Her father's blood.
The official history said that the previous king had been killed during a rebellion.
The people knew better.
Swarangi had killed him herself.
What the history books did not say was why.
They did not speak about the years before her coronation.
They did not speak about the girl who had once lived inside that palace and learned that walls could hide screams.
They did not speak about her father.
Or Anika.
Or the way her mother had disappeared when Swarangi needed her most.
They certainly did not speak about the girl who had survived all of it and eventually decided that if the kingdom wanted a monster...
she would become one.
The throne room was silent that morning.
Swarangi stood beside one of the enormous windows, looking down at the capital.
Her long, dark hair fell straight down her back, almost reaching her waist.
She wore black.
Not ordinary black.
The fabric was deep and luxurious, fitted perfectly around her figure before falling into layered crimson-black fabric beneath her waist. Red detailing ran along the edges of her sleeves and bodice.
A dark red gemstone rested against her chest.
The Raktamani.
It looked almost like a ruby.
But it wasn't a ruby.
The stone seemed to contain something moving inside it.
Something alive.
Swarangi slowly touched it.
For a moment, the gemstone pulsed beneath her fingers.
Once.
Twice.
Her expression hardened.
She looked toward the western windows.
The magical barrier surrounding Raktavya had flickered during the night.
Only for a few seconds.
No one else had noticed.
But the Raktamani had.
And that frightened her more than she would ever admit.
Three years ago, when Swarangi had first taken the throne, she had believed the Raktamani was simply the source of her power.
She had been wrong.
The relic was older than Raktavya.
Older than her bloodline.
Possibly older than the kingdoms themselves.
It responded to her anger.
Her grief.
Her fear.
Sometimes, when she used too much of its power, she could feel something moving beneath her thoughts.
A whisper.
A memory that wasn't hers.
A voice she could never quite understand.
And lately...
the Raktamani had been reacting to something beyond the borders of Raktavya.
Something connected to the sea.
Swarangi lowered her hand.
"Again," she whispered.
The gemstone became still.
As if it had never moved.
Far away from Raktavya, the world looked very different.
There were no black towers there.
No royal armies.
No crimson magical barrier.
No throne.
Only green hills, quiet forests, small streams and the sound of waves in the distance.
And in a small healer's settlement hidden between the forest and the sea lived a nineteen-year-old girl named Bhumi.
Bhumi's Home — Nilaara
Nilaara was not a kingdom.
It didn't need to be.
It was a peaceful settlement where healers, herbalists and families who preferred a quiet life lived among nature.
The houses were small, built from wood and pale stone.
Wildflowers grew along the pathways.
Clothes hung from balconies.
Children ran barefoot between houses.
And every morning, before the sun had completely risen, the healers began their work.
Bhumi was usually awake before everyone else.
That morning was no different.
She sat beside an open window, carefully tying the end of her braid.
Her hair was impossibly long.
Thick.
Naturally curly.
Dark brown where the morning sunlight touched it and almost black in the shadows.
Today she had braided it loosely so it wouldn't interfere with her work, weaving a few tiny white and blue flowers into the braid.
She wasn't wearing anything extravagant.
She never did while working.
Her healer's clothing was a soft combination of sage green, turquoise and white, designed for movement rather than decoration. The sleeves reached her wrists, with delicate frilled edging around the cuffs and neckline.
A few small earrings decorated her ears.
Two tiny studs sat higher along one ear.
Around her neck hung a simple magical chain that had belonged to her family for as long as she could remember.
Bhumi glanced at herself in the little mirror near the window.
Round face.
Soft cheeks.
Doe-like eyes.
Plump lips.
She looked younger than nineteen when she was quiet.
Which was most of the time.
She smiled faintly at her reflection.
"You're late."
A voice came from outside.
Bhumi immediately turned.
"I know!"
She grabbed her healer's satchel and hurried out.
The first patient of the morning was an old fisherman who had injured his hand.
Nothing serious.
A deep cut.
Bhumi washed it first.
Then she placed her palm gently over the wound.
A faint green-blue light appeared beneath her fingers.
The old man watched silently.
The bleeding slowed.
The torn skin began knitting itself together.
Bhumi's eyes remained focused.
Healing wasn't simply about magic.
She had learned that very young.
A healer had to understand the body.
The pain.
The fear.
The exhaustion.
Magic only listened when the healer did.
When she finally removed her hand, the wound had closed.
The fisherman flexed his fingers.
"You're getting better."
Bhumi smiled.
"I've been healing you for three years."
"And you're still getting better."
She laughed softly.
"That means you should stop hurting yourself."
"I fish."
"Then fish more carefully."
The old man chuckled as he left.
Bhumi watched him go.
Then she looked down at her own hand.
A faint mark rested across her palm.
A strange pattern that resembled delicate roots spreading beneath her skin.
Her healer's birthmark.
It had been there since birth.
Everyone in Nilaara knew about it.
But no one knew why it was different from the markings of other healers.
Bhumi sometimes wondered herself.
She closed her hand.
There was no reason to think about it today.
She had work.
By afternoon, the settlement had grown quieter.
Bhumi carried her basket into the forest to collect herbs.
The forest around Nilaara was beautiful.
Tall trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves filtering the sunlight into patches of green and gold.
Small streams crossed between moss-covered stones.
Birds moved through the branches.
Flowers grew where no one had planted them.
Bhumi knew the forest almost as well as she knew her own home.
She could tell which herbs were safe by their scent.
Which flowers bloomed after rain.
Which trees were older than the settlement itself.
And somehow...
the forest always seemed to know when she arrived.
A bird landed beside her.
Bhumi looked at it.
"You again?"
The bird tilted its head.
She smiled.
"Fine. You can stay."
It remained beside her while she gathered herbs.
She didn't notice the way the leaves shifted toward her.
She didn't notice the tiny flowers opening beneath her footsteps.
She had never considered it unusual.
Nature simply behaved differently around her.
That was all.
Or at least...
that was what she had always believed.
The forest eventually opened into a narrow path leading toward the sea.
Bhumi stopped.
She hadn't planned to come this far.
The ocean was visible between the trees.
Blue.
Endless.
Beautiful.
She had always loved it.
More than she could explain.
Whenever life became too loud, she came here.
Whenever she couldn't sleep, she listened to the waves.
Whenever she was afraid, she stood near the water until the feeling passed.
The ocean made her feel as though she had returned somewhere she had forgotten.
Bhumi slowly walked toward the shore.
Her bare feet touched the wet sand.
A wave rolled forward.
Then withdrew.
She smiled.
"Hello."
It was a ridiculous thing to say.
She knew that.
But she said it anyway.
Another wave touched her toes.
And then—
Bhumi froze.
The water had become completely still.
Not calm.
Still.
The waves stopped moving.
The wind stopped.
Even the birds seemed to disappear.
Bhumi stared at the ocean.
Her smile faded.
Something was wrong.
A strange warmth spread through her hand.
She looked down.
The healer's mark on her palm was glowing.
Not green.
Not blue.
Crimson.
Bhumi's breathing stopped.
"What...?"
The water suddenly moved.
Not toward the shore.
Toward her.
A thin layer of seawater climbed over her feet and stopped around her ankles.
Her eyes widened.
And then she heard it.
A voice.
Very faint.
So faint that she couldn't tell whether it was real.
Come closer.
Bhumi stepped backward.
The voice came again.
Come closer.
Her heart began pounding.
She didn't know the voice.
Yet something inside her recognized it.
She slowly looked toward the horizon.
For one brief second, beneath the surface of the sea, she saw something impossible.
A city.
Ancient towers beneath the water.
Glowing blue structures.
Statues.
A massive gate covered in symbols.
And behind it—
something moved.
Bhumi gasped.
The vision disappeared.
The waves crashed against the shore again.
Birds returned to the trees.
Wind moved through the grass.
Everything was normal.
As if nothing had happened.
Bhumi stood frozen.
Her hand still glowed faintly.
Then the light disappeared.
She looked toward the ocean again.
Nothing.
Only water.
Only waves.
Only silence.
She slowly touched the magical chain around her neck.
For some reason, it felt warm.
Very warm.
Bhumi didn't know it yet...
but somewhere far away, in a kingdom she had never visited, an ancient relic had just awakened.
And someone else had felt it.
Swarangi stood alone in the dark palace.
The Raktamani pulsed against her chest.
Once.
Twice.
Then three times.
Her eyes narrowed.
She looked toward the western horizon.
Toward something she could not see.
Something beyond the mountains.
Beyond the forests.
Beyond Raktavya.
"The sea..." she whispered.
The gemstone answered with another pulse.
Swarangi's expression changed.
Not fear.
Not yet.
Recognition.
As though something ancient had just whispered her name.
And beneath the waves, far deeper than any human had ever travelled, an enormous stone door remained sealed.
For now.
Behind it, something ancient stirred.
And above it, somewhere in the world, a young healer was standing barefoot on the shore...
unaware that her peaceful life had just begun to change.
To be Continued..
