Anamika wept. Not for the swan prince. But for the serpent queen—her own blood, erased from history.
In the dusty, forgotten attic of the royal library of Maheshwar, beyond the shelves of war chronicles and love poems, lay a book bound in pale, leathery skin that shimmered like moonlight on water. It was called the Shaapit Rajhans . shaapit rajhans book
On the third night, Devraj, in his man-form, led Anamika to the attic. He placed her hand on the book. This time, when it opened, the silver ink bled. Anamika wept