They called it the Night of the Phoenix—
...when the sky bled fire, the palace drowned in screams,
...and the crown of Virdhara vanished into shadows.

Inside the burning palace, Queen Ishvari cradled her daughter—newborn, fragile, unaware that her first breath would spark a war.

The gates had already been breached. Swords clanged like thunder. Betrayal walked the marble halls in royal robes.

"She must live," the queen whispered, placing the child into the arms of the one man she once vowed to kill—General Aaryan, the king's closest friend turned accused traitor.

"She's your only heir," he said, voice shaking. "They'll hunt her."

"Then let them bleed trying," she spat, her eyes ablaze with rage and desperation. "Swear it, Aaryan. Raise her far from the throne. Far from this madness. Let her grow wild. Let her forget her blood."

A moment later, a sword pierced the queen's chest.

Aaryan ran. Through secret tunnels. Through fire. Through history itself.

And as the palace collapsed behind him, the child—the true heir of Virdhara—let out her first cry...

Not as a princess.

But as a ghost the world would forget.

Until now.