Prologue
⸻
The fort of Abhaneri …..
"Jaagte raho! Jaagte raho!"
(Stay alert! Stay alert!)
Thuk. Thuk. Thuk.
The bamboo staff struck the stone street like a heartbeat against silence.
The hour was deep, the city asleep.
The night watchman paced the dimly lit lanes of Kundalgad, his lantern casting wild shadows on old stone walls. A thick shawl draped across his shoulders, the weight of duty in his step, his voice rang out like a lullaby for the homes he passed. Each rhythmic thud of his staff echoed between closed doors and shuttered windows.
Above him, the moon—halved and pale—peeked through clouds, casting silver lines over rooftops and quiet courtyards. The fort loomed in the distance, eternal and unyielding.
As he turned down the wide street that skirted the outer wall of the fort, he paused.
A sound?
He listened.
Silence.
He shrugged and walked on.
But the silence was a veil.
Moments after he disappeared around the bend, a low grinding noise rose from the very wall he had passed.
A narrow slit opened in the fort's ancient face.
A figure emerged.
Slender, cloaked in black, the figure moved like a shadow birthed from stone. A bundle was strapped across the shoulder—carefully, like one would carry something fragile. With swift precision, the figure turned and pressed a hidden lever inside the crevice. The wall sealed shut behind them, as if it had never opened.
They lingered in the darkness, watching.
Listening.
Footsteps.
Voices.
Three men stumbled into view—drunk, singing tuneless songs to the night. Their laughter was loud, their gait unsteady, spilling wine with every swaying step. One clutched a gourd, the other a clay jar, the third slumped between them, barely standing.
The figure remained still—heart quiet, breath shallow—hidden in the arms of the wall's shadow.
The drunkards passed.
Stillness returned.
The figure moved again, gliding along the fort's perimeter, then ducking into a narrow bylane. There, at a small square, stood a statue — a winged lion atop a stone pedestal. Behind it, carved into the wall, was the royal emblem: a circle pierced by two crossed spears.
The figure knelt at the lion's paw, found the brick, twisted it once to the right, once to the left, then sideways.
Click.
A hidden compartment opened.
His hand slipped inside,moving slowly, till it stopped, then with a slight pull the figure pulled out his hand and moved back, a few steps.
A lever deep within turned — and a section of the wall slid open.
Darkness.
Without a moment's hesitation, the figure stepped in.
Gone.
As if never there.
⸻
An hour later.
On the far edge of Kundalgad's sleeping sprawl, behind an abandoned temple, a trapdoor in the ground lifted.
A cautious eye emerged.
Then the figure stepped out, silent and sure, and shut the hatch behind. A few paces away, beneath an ancient neem tree, stood a modest bullock cart. Two oxen yawned, tethered and patient. A large boulder rested nearby, throwing a shadow on them.
The figure crouched behind a nearby tree and let out a low, bird-like hoot.
From under the cart, a figure stirred. He was wrapped in a coarse blanket. He lifted his head, leaning on his elbow he looked around.
The man rolled out quickly, moving towards the back of the cart. He picked a lantern that was hanging on a branch of the neem tree and looked around
The hidden figure hooted again.
In response, the man swung the lantern twice, paused, and then again twice.
A silent signal.
Without speaking, the cloaked figure stood and approached. A nod. A silent understanding. The man quickly lifted the mat covering the back entrance of the cart. The figure slid in. The man climbed on to the driver's bench, clicked his tongue, and tugged the reins.
The cart creaked into motion.
No one looked back.
⸻
Far behind them, the city of Abhaneri still slept. The fort stood proud in its silence.
And somewhere, in a chamber not far from the palace towers, a single lamp flickered — left burning by someone who waited, unaware that the night had stolen something from within those walls.
By the time the alarm bells began to ring, the cart was already far, far away.
And history had already shifted.
