The corridor leading to the east wing was darker than the rest of the estate. Dust clung to the air, and the wooden floor creaked under their footsteps. Satya, Saanvi, Virendra, and Professor Raghav moved cautiously, their breaths steady but their nerves on edge.
"This place feels… different," Saanvi murmured, running her fingers along the cold stone walls.
Virendra nodded. "No one comes here. The servants avoid it, and even my grandfather spoke of this place like it was cursed."
Satya exhaled sharply. "What exactly did he say?"
Virendra hesitated before answering. "That something was hidden here. Something that should never be found."
A shiver ran down Saanvi's spine.
They finally reached an old wooden door, its surface covered in intricate carvings. Symbols of the Rathore crest, intertwined with unfamiliar markings.
Satya placed his hand on the wood. It felt ice-cold.
Professor Raghav adjusted his glasses. "These carvings… they're protective sigils. A mix of Rajput and tantric symbols. Whoever sealed this door didn't just want it locked. They wanted it forgotten."
Satya exchanged a look with Saanvi. "Then we're definitely in the right place."
Virendra pulled out an old iron key. "This hasn't been used in over a century." He hesitated before turning it in the lock.
The door groaned as it creaked open.
A gust of stale air rushed past them, carrying with it the weight of history.
They stepped inside.
The chamber was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from narrow windows high above. Dust-covered furniture and tattered curtains lined the walls, but what caught their attention was the center of the room.
A single wooden table.
And on it, an old sketchbook.
Satya's breath caught.
He stepped forward, his fingers trembling as he picked it up. The cover was cracked with age, but the moment he opened it, his heart nearly stopped.
Sketches.
Pages upon pages of sketches—each one drawn with unmistakable familiarity.
They were his.
Or rather… Veer's.
Saanvi peered over his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. "These are your works…"
Satya flipped through the pages, his pulse hammering. He recognized the strokes, the shading, the details only he would have drawn.
And then, he found it.
The final page.
It wasn't just a sketch. It was a story.
A scene of Veer standing in the very same chamber. Shackled. Beaten. His eyes filled with determination, despite the pain.
Across from him, a shadowy figure loomed.
Not a king. Not a noble.
Someone else.
And beneath the sketch, a single line written in faded ink:
"Betrayed by the one I trusted most."
Satya's blood ran cold.
Saanvi covered her mouth, eyes wide with horror. "Veer wasn't just executed… he was betrayed."
Professor Raghav examined the page. "This could mean anything. But if Veer recorded it, it means he knew."
Virendra's expression darkened. "Which means whoever killed him wasn't just a royal. It was someone close to him."
Satya clenched his jaw. "And Devashish Arora doesn't want us to find out who."
A tense silence filled the chamber.
The past wasn't just unveiling itself—it was warning them.
They weren't the only ones searching for the truth.
And whoever was trying to bury it…
Was willing to do anything to keep it hidden.