Once upon a time, the worlds were ending, and it was all Ragini's fault.

She knew that couldn’t be true—how could she, alone, have triggered a war between Gods and Demons that set off a universal upheaval?—but it felt like it. The first battle had begun on the day of her marriage, after all.

Ragini stood in a small chamber carved from polished marble. Every surface gleamed, reflecting the countless clay lamps lining the walls, their tiny pinpricks of light forming an array more dazzling than the night sky.

At the far end of the room, seated serenely on a stone bench draped with a thin cloth, was her husband, Lord Rudra, the highest of the Gods and Master of Destruction.

The chamber's soft orange glow bathed his form and seemed to give shape to the waves of magic radiating from him and seeping through the mountain beneath them. Even his usually muted saffron robes appeared to gleam.

The sight alone made her feel small and young; here was the most precious jewel of the three realms—and who was she to be allowed on this hallowed ground?

Ragini approached, her feet bare, her footsteps silent. No one wore shoes in sacred spaces. She stopped before him and pressed her hands together in greeting, even though he could not see her.

"My Lord." She bowed her head and then lifted it slowly. "Rudra."

Rudra's eyes remained closed, deep in meditation. She watched his steady, measured breaths.

Her husband was eternal, and what was she? An upstart Demon Princess who dared to fall in love with the most revered of all the Gods—and who dared to accept his love in return.

Ragini's fingers twisted into the fabric of her sari. Even now, in such a grave moment, she wore finery that outshone even Heaven's nobility. She longed for her armor, but as Lady of the Mountain, her responsibilities bound her here.

"More refugees have come to Aakaa through your shield," she murmured. "We are safe for now. The skies above the mountain remain calm, but beyond..." She hesitated. "...it only grows worse."

"The Underworld and the Heavens have been brought to their knees. And the Mortal Realm is crumbling." Ragini released her sari, wringing her hands in frustration. The glass bangles on her wrists chimed, an incongruous sound amidst such despair.

"The God King and my fath—the Demon King—lead the forces together, but they’re being pushed back, inching closer to our mountain with every passing moment."

She paced in front of Rudra, his stillness so statuesque that she could not help but move. "I’m trying to keep everyone calm, Rudra, but with each new wave of dead and wounded that arrives..."

Ragini stopped, closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath. Her back faced Rudra now. "Your purpose is to preserve all the realms. Mine, from birth, has been to be a warrior. I cannot stay on this mountain, Rudra. If I do nothing, I fear there will be no realms left for you to protect."

Rudra heard her. Even in the depths of his meditation, Ragini knew her husband was listening. She also understood that if he moved from this place, the shield around Mount Kaashil—the realms' final sanctuary—would collapse. Only when all hope seemed lost would Rudra rise. But until then, others bore the burden of defending and preserving it.

Ragini turned and moved closer. Even seated on his meditation bench, Rudra towered over her. She allowed the back of her fingers to brush his cheek softly.

“I love you, Rudra. In every lifetime, I have loved you. In every lifetime, I will love you.” She smiled wistfully, rising on her toes to kiss the space between his brows. Under her lips, she felt a slight tremor before his brow smoothed.

She took a few steps back, her gaze lingering on him as if to commit every contour of light and shadow on his face to memory. “And I know you love me. You don’t have to say it. You never did.”

Her smile radiated sincerity. Even with his eyes closed, she refused to let him see her leave with sorrow on her face, though a deep fear gnawed at her—fear that she might not see him again in this life.

Finally, she left the chamber, her legs shaking. As she forced herself down the long hall toward the courtyard of their stone palace, Ragini wrapped herself in her magic. The silken finery of her dress transformed into dark gray armor.

Her jewelry vanished, leaving just a single necklace tied close to her throat. A large black pearl shimmered on the red cord at the base of her neck. Her dark hair, usually loose in wild locks, wove itself into a long braid bound with red thread.

Her stride lengthened, and she lifted her chin. Gods and Demons did not live by the same rules as Mortals. Whatever happened today, she would see her husband again, in one form or another.

The cloudless sky poured sunlight over the sprawling courtyard and gardens. The brightness was a welcome reprieve for the masses who filled almost all available space of the palatial grounds. All eyes turned to Ragini as she stepped out of an archway and into the main courtyard.

Many bowed their heads and folded their hands in greeting as she passed, murmuring, “Lady Ragini” or “Lady of the Mountain.” Others glanced at her armor, their expressions grim, and quickly looked away.

She marched to the end of the courtyard, the crowd parting in her wake. No one dared stop the Demon Princess or ask where she was headed. There was only one place she was heading.

But before she could descend the massive staircase at the end of the courtyard, a host of soldiers appeared, struggling up the steps. At the front of the group, carried on a makeshift stretcher by two warriors, was a man in black armor like her own. Ragini’s heart seemed to stop, and she barely kept herself from crying out.

“Ravi!” she gasped, rushing down the stairs to meet the battered and bleeding company. As she drew near, she could hear her brother's faint heartbeat and sense his life force. Thank the Elder Demons, he was still alive. Ragini took one end of the stretcher from a soldier and helped carry her elder brother, Ravindra, the rest of the way.

She guided the weary group to an open space in the courtyard, where both God and Demon healers swiftly provided water and supplies. Given the current threat to all realms, any lingering hostility between the two sides was pointless.

Kneeling by her brother's side, she waved a hand over his helmet, making it vanish to reveal dark hair matted with blood across his forehead. His eyes were mere slits, struggling to focus on her, and his lips moved, forming silent words.

“Wait,” she whispered, accepting a damp cloth from a healer. Gently, she wiped the dust and blood from Ravindra’s face and hair. Slowly, her beloved brother's features emerged from beneath the grime of battle.

A Godly healer approached and offered her a small vial. “My Lady. Soma.”

Ragini looked up and smiled gratefully. She took the vial and carefully administered a few drops for Ravindra to drink.

Soma was a priceless panacea—the essence that allowed Gods and Demons to live and thrive. Created from mortal faith and harvested by nymphs of the Underworld and the Heavens, it could heal and revitalize Gods, Demons, and nature spirits alike. Without it, even beings who seemed immortal would slowly fade from existence.

Ravindra swallowed with effort and closed his eyes. Ragini waited. After a moment, a faint color returned to his cheeks, which had grown ashen with his injuries. He took a deeper breath and opened his eyes, revealing the same brilliant, jeweled red gaze as hers.

She cupped his cheek. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“The beasts are getting larger. And the storms are growing fiercer,” Ravindra rasped. Ragini gave him a few more drops of Soma, then passed the vial to the healers, instructing them to use the remainder on the most critically wounded soldiers. Since the upheaval had begun, the creation of Soma had slowed to a trickle, and now there was barely enough left to go around.

Ravindra continued, “Father and King Ananda are on the front lines now, but we’re being driven back. It won’t be long before they reach the foot of the mountain.”

Ragini asked how many of their forces remained and her expression darkened as Ravindra gave her a distressingly low number. She had to join the battle now and do whatever she could.

She thought of Rudra, locked in place to keep the mountain safe. He wouldn’t want her to fight, but he would not stop her either. He had never tried to convince her to act against her nature, and for that she was grateful.

Ragini placed a hand on Ravindra’s chest. “Rest,” she said absently, her mind already halfway down the mountain, “You’ve done your part.”