
In the center of the royal courtyard, a massive Havan Kund had been prepared. The sacred fire burning but unlike the terrifying flames in the Old Chamber few nights ago, this fire was pure, the significance of purity and showering holy blessings.
Vivaan sat in the center, looking like the King he was born to be. He wore a traditional golden embroidered Achkan and a turban with the royal emerald shimmering on it which was their ancestral heirloom.





















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