Chapter 7: The Shadow Throne
The Shadow Throne loomed ahead, its imposing structure half-hidden by the thick veil of pre-dawn mist. Nestled in the heart of Varanasi’s ancient labyrinth of alleys and ghats, the fortress was a blend of antiquity and cutting-edge technology. Its stone walls bore carvings from another age, but the faint glow of surveillance drones circling its perimeter betrayed the modern menace within.
Vishakha crouched on the rooftop of a nearby building, her eyes scanning the fortress through binoculars. The defenses were just as Nish had described: automated turrets positioned at every entry point, guards patrolling in synchronized shifts, and cameras covering every angle.
“Looks like a fortress fit for a king,” Nish’s voice crackled in her earpiece. “Or, you know, a megalomaniac with a god complex.”
“Focus,” Vishakha muttered, adjusting the binoculars to track a drone as it swept past a narrow alley.
“Relax, Shadow Dancer. I’ve got your back,” Nish said, the sound of typing audible in the background. “I’m already in their network, running interference. Cameras are going to start seeing ghosts any second now.”
True to his word, the feed from a nearby camera flickered, its red light turning green.
“You’ve got a ten-minute window before they figure out something’s wrong,” Nish added. “Better make it count.”
Vishakha slipped her katars into their sheaths and secured the Chhaya Cloak around her shoulders. The faint shimmer of the fabric shifted as she activated its stealth mode, her form blending seamlessly into the shadows.
“I always do,” she replied, leaping silently from the rooftop and landing in the alley below.
The first obstacle was a narrow passage flanked by two guards, their stances rigid as they scanned the area. Vishakha moved like a wraith, her steps soundless as she approached. The guards exchanged a few words, their voices low, before one of them turned his back to her.
It was all the opening she needed.
She struck quickly, her katar slicing through the air and rendering the first guard unconscious before he could react. The second guard turned, his hand reaching for his weapon, but Vishakha was faster. A swift blow to his temple sent him crumpling to the ground.
“Guards down,” she whispered into her earpiece.
“Good. Keep moving,” Nish said. “The main entrance is a no-go, but I’ve found a ventilation shaft on the south side. It’ll drop you right into the lower levels.”
The shaft was narrow, its entrance concealed behind a stack of crates. Vishakha slipped inside, her movements careful and deliberate. The confined space forced her to crawl, each shift of her body echoing faintly in the metal tunnel.
“Anything I should know about the lower levels?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” Nish replied. “It’s where they house the secondary server banks and backup generators. You’ll need to bypass those to avoid tripping their alarms.”
“Understood,” Vishakha said, her mind already mapping out the route.
She emerged from the shaft into a dimly lit corridor, the hum of machinery filling the air. The servers were close—she could feel the faint vibration of their operation through the floor.
“Nish, guide me,” she said.
“Take a left, then two rights,” he said. “And watch out for—”
The sound of approaching footsteps cut him off.
Vishakha pressed herself against the wall, her katars drawn as two operatives rounded the corner. They were armed and alert, their eyes sweeping the corridor.
She waited until they were close before striking, her movements a blur of speed and precision. One operative dropped before he could fire, a throwing needle lodged in his neck. The second managed a shout before Vishakha’s katar silenced him.
“Hostiles neutralized,” she said, wiping her blade on the fallen operative’s uniform.
“You’re welcome,” Nish said, his tone smug. “I just diverted a third guy who was heading your way. A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll thank you when this is over,” Vishakha said, continuing down the corridor.
The server room was a stark contrast to the fortress’s ancient exterior—a pristine, high-tech chamber filled with blinking consoles and humming machinery. Vishakha approached the nearest terminal, her fingers moving swiftly over the keys as she accessed the system.
“I’m in,” she said.
“Good. Now disable the secondary security grid,” Nish instructed. “That’ll give you access to the upper levels and buy us some time before they can lock the place down.”
Lines of code scrolled across the screen as Vishakha worked, her focus unwavering. The grid’s defenses were intricate, designed to detect and counter any intrusion. But Vishakha’s training and Nish’s guidance made quick work of it.
“Grid offline,” she said, stepping back from the terminal.
“And not a moment too soon,” Nish said. “You’ve got movement on the upper levels. Looks like Aryan’s expecting company.”
Vishakha exited the server room, her movements quick but controlled as she navigated the labyrinthine corridors. The fortress’s defenses were already adapting, cameras swiveling to scan every corner, and the faint hum of drones growing louder.
“Nish, I need a route to the main chamber,” she said.
“Working on it,” he replied. “But you’re about to have company. Big company.”
The sound of boots echoed ahead, and Vishakha ducked into a side passage, her heart pounding. A squad of operatives marched past, their weapons at the ready.
“Shadow Dancer,” a familiar voice called out, stopping her in her tracks.
She turned slowly, her katars gleaming in the dim light as Amrita stepped into view, flanked by two operatives.
“You didn’t really think you could sneak into my house unnoticed, did you?” Amrita said, her talwar already drawn.
Vishakha’s grip tightened on her blades. “I wasn’t trying to hide. I’m here for Aryan.”
Amrita smirked, her eyes narrowing. “Then you’ll have to go through me.”
Vishakha’s heart raced as she crouched in the narrow air duct above the main chamber of the Shadow Throne. Through the slats below her, she could see Aryan standing at the center of a circular dais, his presence commanding and assured. The room was vast and dimly lit, its walls lined with holographic displays projecting maps, data streams, and security feeds from across Bharat Varsha.
The Shadow Council sat around him—a dozen high-ranking operatives and loyalists, their faces shrouded in the dim glow of the projections. Their murmurs quieted as Aryan raised a hand, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering lights.
“Brothers and sisters,” Aryan began, his voice resonating with calculated authority. “The world outside these walls is descending into chaos. Fear, corruption, and weakness rule the land. Bharat Varsha, once a beacon of knowledge and power, now stumbles in the shadows of its former glory.”
Vishakha’s jaw tightened as she listened, her hands resting on the hilts of her katars. She had heard this rhetoric before—twisted ideals wrapped in promises of order and strength.
Aryan continued, his voice rising with conviction. “But we, the Shadow Order, are not bound by the failings of lesser men. We see beyond their petty struggles. We understand the true cost of balance. Power must be wielded, not squandered. Control must be seized, not begged for.”
The council members nodded, murmuring their agreement. One of them, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes, spoke up. “And what of our enemies? The uprisings in Kolkata, the whispers of rebellion? The Shadow Dancer?”
Aryan’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Ah, yes. The Shadow Dancer. A thorn in our side, yes, but not an insurmountable obstacle. Her defiance is born of weakness—a refusal to accept the inevitability of our cause.”
Vishakha clenched her fists, her breath steady but her anger simmering just below the surface.
Aryan gestured to one of the holographic displays, which shifted to show a network map of sleeper agents embedded across Bharat Varsha. “Our agents are already in place. With the launch of the AI surveillance system, every communication, every transaction, every movement will be ours to monitor and control. The age of chaos will end, and the Shadow Order will usher in a new era of order and prosperity.”
From her perch, Vishakha’s mind raced. The system wasn’t just a tool for surveillance—it was a weapon for domination. If Aryan succeeded, no one would be free from his grasp.
One of the council members spoke, his voice tinged with skepticism. “And the risks? If the AI is compromised—”
“It won’t be,” Aryan interrupted, his tone sharp. “The core is secure, and its redundancies are impenetrable. The Shadow Throne is the most fortified facility in the world. No one, not even the Shadow Dancer, can reach it.”
His confidence sent a chill down Vishakha’s spine. She had faced impossible odds before, but Aryan’s unwavering belief in his fortress’s invulnerability made her task even more daunting.
Aryan stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the council. “This is our moment. In forty-eight hours, the AI will go live. And when it does, the Shadow Order will no longer operate in the shadows. We will rule them.”
The council erupted in applause, their fervor echoing through the chamber. Vishakha took the opportunity to scan the room, her eyes darting to the exits, the guards, and the security systems. She noted every detail, her mind already crafting a plan.
But her focus wavered as Aryan’s voice dropped, taking on a more personal tone.
“And as for the Shadow Dancer,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Her defiance ends tonight. Amrita has assured me of that.”
Vishakha’s breath hitched as her sister’s name was spoken. She had expected to face Amrita, but the mention of Aryan’s confidence in her sister’s loyalty stung more deeply than she had anticipated.
“Amrita,” Aryan continued, turning to address her directly, though she was not in the room. “You have been my most loyal student. Your blade, my will. See to it that this final obstacle is removed, and your place beside me will be assured.”
Vishakha gritted her teeth, her mind replaying the last clash she had with her sister. Amrita’s unwavering faith in Aryan had made her a formidable foe, but it was the emotional weight of their shared history that made their battles even more grueling.
Her earpiece crackled, Nish’s voice breaking through her thoughts. “Vishakha, you need to move. The council’s adjournment protocols mean they’ll be sweeping the area soon. You don’t want to get caught up in that.”
“Understood,” she whispered, backing away from the vent.
Before she left, her gaze lingered on Aryan for a moment longer. He stood at the center of the chamber, radiating the confidence of a man who believed himself untouchable.
“We’ll see about that,” Vishakha murmured under her breath, slipping into the shadows as the council continued their applause.
Vishakha navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the Shadow Throne, her movements deliberate and soundless. The air was thick with the faint hum of machinery and the occasional distant murmur of operatives moving between checkpoints. Her katars gleamed faintly in the dim light, ready for the inevitable confrontation.
Nish’s voice crackled in her earpiece. “You’re in the clear for now, but that won’t last. They’re probably wrapping up Aryan’s little pep talk and heading back to their stations. You need to move.”
“I’m moving,” Vishakha replied, her voice low. “Where’s the archive room?”
“Two floors down,” Nish said. “There’s a service elevator nearby, but… yeah, it’s crawling with cameras.”
“Disable them.”
“Already on it,” Nish said, the sound of rapid typing filling the line. “But I can only keep them down for about ninety seconds before the system overrides me. You’ll need to move fast.”
The elevator shaft was narrow, and the climb down was treacherous. Vishakha had pried open the emergency hatch, her muscles straining as she descended hand over hand using the maintenance ladder. The space was stifling, the distant clatter of moving cables reverberating around her.
As she reached the floor Nish had directed her to, she pried open the hatch and slipped inside the corridor beyond. The air here was cooler, the hum of servers and the faint glow of fluorescent lights creating an eerie ambiance.
“Nish,” she whispered, scanning the hallway. “What am I walking into?”
“This level houses their archive servers—records of operations, agent rosters, intel caches. If the Shadow Order’s got a skeleton in their closet, it’s here.”
“Good,” Vishakha said, her tone steely. “Let’s dig up some bones.”
The archive room was massive, its walls lined with rows of server racks and holo-terminals. The soft blue glow of the equipment cast flickering patterns across the floor. Vishakha approached the nearest terminal, inserting a decryption drive Nish had provided.
The screen came to life, streams of data flooding the display. Vishakha’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she navigated through layers of encryption, each file revealing a piece of the Shadow Order’s vast network.
“What are we looking at?” she asked.
Nish’s voice was a mix of awe and unease. “This… this is insane. The Order’s not just running operations in Bharat Varsha—they’ve got cells in Europe, Africa, even parts of the Americas. It’s a decentralized network. You take out one cell, two more pop up to replace it.”
Vishakha frowned. “A hydra.”
“Exactly,” Nish said. “Even if you take down Aryan and the Shadow Throne, there’s enough redundancy here to keep them operational for years.”
Vishakha’s gaze hardened as she continued sifting through the data. The scale of the Shadow Order’s reach was staggering—sleeper agents embedded in governments, corporations, and media outlets, each one working to consolidate power under Aryan’s command.
But as she dug deeper, a new pattern began to emerge.
“Wait,” she said, her voice sharp. “These nodes… they’re not just operational cells. They’re control hubs.”
“What do you mean?” Nish asked.
“Look here,” she said, highlighting a cluster of nodes on the holographic map. “These hubs aren’t just gathering intel—they’re funneling commands. Every operation, every order, every resource allocation comes from one of these points.”
Nish whistled. “So if we take out the hubs…”
“We cripple the network,” Vishakha finished. “The hydra doesn’t regenerate if the heads are gone.”
Her earpiece crackled as Dev’s voice joined the conversation. “That’s a solid theory, but there’s a problem. These hubs aren’t all in the Shadow Throne. They’re scattered across the globe. Even if you shut down the one here, the others will compensate.”
Vishakha leaned back, her mind racing. “Then we don’t just shut this one down. We destroy it.”
“That’s a lot of collateral,” Nish warned.
“It’s the only way,” Vishakha said, her tone unwavering. “If we hit this hub hard enough, the ripple effect will force the others to go dark temporarily. That buys us time to dismantle them systematically.”
“And Aryan?” Dev asked.
“I’ll deal with him,” Vishakha said coldly.
As she downloaded the remaining files, the terminal flashed an alert. Vishakha’s blood ran cold as she realized the system had detected her intrusion.
“Nish—”
“Yeah, I see it,” Nish interrupted, his voice tense. “Their security’s locking me out. You’ve got maybe three minutes before this place is swarming with operatives.”
“Enough time,” Vishakha said, pulling the drive from the terminal.
She turned to leave but paused, her gaze lingering on the server racks. The data they contained was too valuable to leave intact—but destroying it would draw even more attention.
“Nish, any chance you rigged me something explosive?”
“Funny you should ask,” Nish said, his tone light despite the tension. “Check the right pouch on your belt.”
Vishakha reached down, her fingers brushing against a small device she hadn’t noticed before. She pulled it free—a compact, high-yield explosive with a timer interface.
“You’re welcome,” Nish said.
She set the explosive at the base of the central server rack, her fingers deftly programming a delay. As the timer began its countdown, Vishakha stepped back, her katars drawn.
“Nish, guide me out,” she said.
“Straight ahead, left at the next junction, then up the maintenance shaft,” he replied.
“Got it.”
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor, and Vishakha moved into the shadows, her heart pounding. The hunt was on, and the Shadow Throne was beginning to stir.
The corridor was alive with tension as Vishakha moved swiftly through the labyrinthine halls of the Shadow Throne. Her Chhaya Cloak shimmered faintly, blending her form into the dim surroundings. Behind her, the faint vibration of the planted explosive’s countdown echoed in her mind, a persistent reminder that time was running out.
Nish’s voice buzzed in her earpiece, calm but urgent. “Okay, you’re about to hit the junction. Hang a left and head straight. You’ll enter the Council Chambers.”
“Not the main chamber?” Vishakha asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No. This one’s private—reserved for Aryan’s trusted lieutenants,” Nish explained. “And if my hunch is right, that’s where the sleeper agent will be.”
Vishakha frowned, adjusting her grip on her katars. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because it’s the only place they haven’t routed me out of yet,” Nish said. “Whoever’s in there has access to files even Aryan wouldn’t trust with anyone else.”
As Vishakha approached the chamber, the hallway widened into an arched entrance, its doorway flanked by intricately carved stone pillars. Unlike the stark modernity of the rest of the facility, this room bore the distinct air of antiquity, its design a deliberate nod to the Shadow Order’s ancient roots.
Vishakha pressed herself against the wall, peering inside. The chamber was dimly lit, its centerpiece a round table surrounded by high-backed chairs. At its head sat a single figure—a man in his late forties, his posture stiff and his gaze fixed on the holographic display in front of him.
Nish’s voice cut through the silence. “That’s him. Deven Joshi. High-ranking bureaucrat by day, Aryan’s secret informant by night. He’s been feeding intel to the Shadow Order for over a decade.”
“And now he’s feeding them their last meal,” Vishakha muttered, her tone icy.
She stepped into the chamber, her movements silent as she circled the room. Joshi was engrossed in his work, his fingers flying over the display as he sifted through lines of encrypted data.
Vishakha moved closer, her katars poised. But just as she prepared to strike, Joshi spoke, his voice startlingly calm.
“I was wondering when you’d find me.”
Vishakha froze, her eyes narrowing. “You knew I was coming?”
Joshi turned in his chair, a faint smile on his face. “Aryan predicted you’d make it this far. He’s always been thorough like that. But I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d manage it alone.”
“You’re not as valuable as you think,” Vishakha said, her tone cold.
Joshi chuckled, rising to his feet. “Oh, but I am. Without me, Aryan’s plans would’ve been nothing more than a dream. I built his sleeper network. I coordinated his operations. Every piece of information that passed through the Shadow Order came through me first.”
Vishakha’s katars gleamed in the dim light as she stepped closer. “Then you should’ve made yourself harder to find.”
Joshi’s smile faltered as he took a step back. “You can’t kill me, Vishakha. I’m not a soldier. I’m just a messenger—a facilitator. You want Aryan, not me.”
“You’re not walking out of here,” Vishakha said, her voice cold and unyielding.
Joshi’s eyes darted to the terminal behind him. “You kill me, and the information I have dies with me. Are you willing to lose that? All those names, locations, assets—gone in an instant.”
Vishakha hesitated, her katars lowering slightly. The terminal glowed behind him, its data streams tantalizingly close.
“I can give you Aryan,” Joshi said, his voice desperate. “His location, his plans, his weaknesses. Just let me go, and it’s yours.”
Vishakha’s mind raced. Joshi’s plea was calculated, preying on her need for information. But she knew better than to trust a man who had spent years betraying his country for personal gain.
“You think I need you to get to Aryan?” she said, her voice sharp. “I’ve already seen through his plans. And your name… it won’t save you now.”
Before Joshi could respond, Vishakha moved. Her katar struck true, piercing his chest in a swift, precise motion. Joshi gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he crumpled to the floor.
Vishakha knelt beside him, her voice low. “This is for the lives you destroyed.”
Joshi’s breath rattled, and then he was still.
She turned her attention to the terminal, her fingers moving quickly over the controls. The data Joshi had been accessing was still active, revealing a wealth of information about Aryan’s operations. She downloaded everything onto a secure drive, her gaze hardening as the full scope of the Shadow Order’s reach became clear.
“Nish, I’ve got the data,” she said, rising to her feet.
“Good,” Nish replied. “But you’ve got a problem. Aryan’s personal guard just sealed off the upper levels. They know you’re here.”
“Then it’s time to finish this,” Vishakha said, her voice steely.
The countdown in her mind ticked louder, each passing second bringing her closer to the moment when the Shadow Throne would crumble.
Vishakha moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors of the Shadow Throne, her footsteps muffled by the Chhaya Cloak’s stealth enhancements. The tension in the air was palpable—an almost imperceptible shift in the hum of machinery and the faint echo of distant boots told her the fortress was stirring.
“They know you’re here,” Nish’s voice buzzed in her ear. His usual humor was gone, replaced by grim urgency. “I’ve got movement on every floor—guards mobilizing, drones locking down routes. They’re herding you toward the main atrium.”
“A trap,” Vishakha muttered, her jaw tightening.
“Yeah, and I don’t think they’re rolling out a welcome mat,” Nish said. “You need to get to an exit—fast.”
Ignoring the suggestion, Vishakha pressed forward, her focus narrowing on the task at hand. Every corner she turned was more heavily guarded, the Shadow Order operatives moving with precision and purpose. It wasn’t random—it was calculated. They were funneling her exactly where they wanted her.
And waiting for her would be Amrita.
She adjusted her grip on her katars, her resolve hardening. If her sister wanted a fight, Vishakha would oblige.
The corridor opened into the main atrium, a cavernous space dominated by towering columns and a massive skylight that bathed the room in an eerie, bluish light. Vishakha scanned her surroundings, noting the strategic placement of guards on the upper balconies and the faint hum of automated turrets hidden in the shadows.
And there, standing in the center of the atrium, was Amrita.
She was dressed in her pristine white-and-gold combat suit, her talwar gleaming in the faint light. Her expression was calm, almost serene, but her eyes burned with a cold, unyielding intensity.
“You’ve been busy, sister,” Amrita said, her voice carrying easily across the atrium.
Vishakha stepped forward, her katars drawn but held low. “And you’ve been predictable, Amrita. I knew you’d be here, waiting to clean up Aryan’s mess.”
Amrita tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Aryan doesn’t make messes, Vishakha. He creates order. Something you’ve never understood.”
“Order?” Vishakha scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “Is that what you call blackmail, murder, and control? That’s not order, Amrita. That’s tyranny.”
“And what would you call your rebellion?” Amrita shot back. “Defiance? Righteousness? Don’t fool yourself, sister. You’re no better than the rest of us. You just hide your poison behind a mask of morality.”
The exchange was a prelude to the inevitable, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Vishakha’s muscles coiled, her instincts screaming that the ambush was moments away.
“Come home, Vishakha,” Amrita said, her tone softening just enough to be dangerous. “You don’t have to fight anymore. Aryan will forgive you. I will forgive you.”
Vishakha’s grip on her katars tightened. “I don’t need forgiveness from the people who destroyed everything we were meant to protect.”
Amrita sighed, almost pityingly. “Then I suppose this is the end.”
With a subtle gesture from Amrita, the ambush began. Guards emerged from the shadows, their weapons aimed and ready. Vishakha moved instantly, her katars flashing as she lunged toward the nearest operative.
The atrium erupted into chaos. Gunfire echoed through the chamber, the sharp crack of bullets mingling with the clang of blades as Vishakha moved like a shadow, evading, striking, and disappearing again.
Amrita stood at the center of the chaos, watching with a detached calm as her operatives fell one by one. When Vishakha finally closed the distance between them, Amrita raised her talwar, meeting her sister’s charge with a ringing clash of steel.
The fight was brutal and unrelenting. Vishakha’s strikes were quick and precise, but Amrita countered with a ferocity that matched her own. Their blades danced in the dim light, each clash a testament to their shared training and the years of tension that had built between them.
“You’ve grown weaker,” Amrita taunted, her talwar slashing dangerously close to Vishakha’s side. “All that time outside the Order has dulled you.”
“And all that time inside has blinded you,” Vishakha shot back, her katars deflecting a vicious strike.
Their movements were a deadly ballet, each sister anticipating the other’s next move. But as the fight wore on, Vishakha began to see cracks in Amrita’s composure—a hesitation here, a moment of overconfidence there.
The guards who remained were hesitant to intervene, their loyalty to Amrita tempered by the sheer ferocity of the twins’ duel. One by one, they backed away, leaving the sisters to settle their conflict alone.
“You can’t win this, Vishakha,” Amrita said, her voice cold and steady. “You’re fighting a battle you’ve already lost.”
“Then why are you so afraid to finish it?” Vishakha countered, her katars flashing as she forced Amrita back step by step.
The sound of their blades echoed through the atrium, drowning out the distant hum of the fortress’s machinery. For a moment, it was as if the entire Shadow Throne had stilled, holding its breath as the sisters fought for the right to define their shared legacy.
The clash of steel reverberated through the cavernous atrium as Vishakha and Amrita circled each other, their weapons gleaming under the bluish light of the skylight above. Each strike was a statement, each parry a rebuttal, the fight between them as much a battle of ideologies as of skill.
Amrita lunged, her talwar slicing through the air with a ferocious precision. Vishakha sidestepped, her katars crossing in front of her to deflect the blow, their blades singing as they met.
“You’re stalling,” Vishakha said, her breath steady despite the exertion. “What are you waiting for, Amrita? Aryan’s orders?”
Amrita’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond. Instead, her strikes came faster, more aggressive, her talwar a blur of motion. Vishakha barely had time to counter, her mind racing as she realized Amrita’s ferocity wasn’t just anger—it was distraction.
A faint whirring sound caught Vishakha’s attention, her instincts flaring. She glanced upward just in time to see small drones descending from the skylight, their mechanical eyes gleaming red.
“Nish,” she hissed into her earpiece, dodging a blow from Amrita. “Tell me you see this.”
“Yeah, and I’m guessing they’re not here to help you,” Nish replied, his voice tense. “Looks like Aryan’s deploying automated reinforcements. Those things are equipped with heat sensors and stun rounds.”
Vishakha cursed under her breath, ducking as the first drone fired a volley of darts. The projectiles embedded themselves in the ground where she had stood moments earlier, sizzling faintly.
Amrita’s smile widened as she pressed the attack, forcing Vishakha toward the center of the atrium. “You’ve always been quick, sister, but even you can’t outrun a machine.”
“Funny,” Vishakha shot back, sidestepping another swing. “I seem to remember you relying on human backup the last time we fought.”
Amrita’s expression darkened, but she didn’t reply. The drones continued to circle above, their targeting systems locking onto Vishakha with mechanical precision.
“Nish, I need options,” Vishakha said, her tone urgent.
“I’m working on it,” Nish replied, the sound of frantic typing audible in the background. “But these drones aren’t on the standard network. They’re local to the Throne. I can’t override them remotely.”
“Then I’ll have to do it the hard way,” Vishakha muttered, her katars slicing through the air as she deflected another attack from Amrita.
Vishakha feinted left, her movements fluid as she ducked beneath Amrita’s blade and closed the distance between them. Her katars clashed against the talwar, the force of the impact sending sparks flying.
Amrita stumbled back, her eyes narrowing. “You’re wasting your time, Vishakha. You can’t win here.”
“I don’t need to win,” Vishakha replied, her gaze darting to the nearest drone. “I just need to make sure Aryan loses.”
With a sudden burst of speed, Vishakha leaped onto one of the columns, using the intricate carvings as handholds. The drones swarmed around her, their sensors struggling to track her rapid movements.
She reached the top of the column and launched herself at the nearest drone, her katars slicing through its body with surgical precision. The machine sparked and faltered, its components scattering across the atrium floor.
The remaining drones adjusted, their targeting systems recalibrating to track her erratic movements. Vishakha landed in a roll, her katars spinning in her hands as she prepared for the next wave.
“Two down,” Nish said, his tone slightly more confident. “But you’ve still got six more to go. And Amrita’s not exactly taking a coffee break.”
Amrita advanced again, her talwar sweeping toward Vishakha with deadly precision. Vishakha parried the strike, her katars locking against the blade as the sisters came face-to-face.
“You should’ve stayed in the shadows where you belong,” Amrita hissed, her voice low and venomous.
“Maybe,” Vishakha said, her eyes locking with Amrita’s. “But someone had to show you what’s hiding in the light.”
She twisted her katars, forcing Amrita’s talwar to the side, and delivered a sharp kick to her sister’s midsection. Amrita staggered back, her composure slipping as she struggled to recover.
The drones began their next assault, their darts raining down in a calculated pattern meant to corner Vishakha. She moved with the grace of a shadow, each step calculated to keep her out of their line of fire.
“Nish, how do I shut them down?” she asked, her voice clipped.
“There’s a control panel on the western balcony,” Nish said. “But you’ll need to get past Amrita and about half a dozen guards to reach it.”
“Piece of cake,” Vishakha muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm.
As she deflected another wave of attacks, her gaze flicked toward the balcony. It was a long shot, but it was her only chance to turn the tide.
The western balcony loomed above Vishakha, the faint glow of its control panel a beacon amidst the chaos. Every instinct told her it was a trap, but she had no other option. The drones hovered with mechanical patience, waiting for their next opportunity to strike, while Amrita paced with the predatory calm of a panther.
“Nish, are the guards moving?” Vishakha whispered, her eyes darting to the shadows lining the balcony.
“They’re holding position,” Nish replied, his voice tense. “But the moment you step into the open, they’ll pin you down. You need to be faster than their reaction time.”
“I always am,” Vishakha said, her tone steely.
She feinted toward Amrita, drawing her sister’s attention for a split second before vaulting onto the nearest column. Her katars carved footholds into the stone as she climbed with breakneck speed, the drones whirring as they struggled to adjust their aim.
“Still running?” Amrita called from below, her voice carrying an edge of mockery.
Vishakha didn’t answer, her focus locked on the balcony. As she reached the top of the column, she launched herself toward the ledge, her movements fluid and precise.
The guards stationed there reacted too slowly. Vishakha landed amidst them, her katars flashing in the dim light. The first guard fell before he could fire, her blade slicing through his weapon. She spun, disarming another before striking a disabling blow to his knee.
“Two down,” Nish’s voice crackled in her ear. “Four more to go. You’re making this look easy.”
“Not helping,” Vishakha muttered, dodging a blow from the next guard.
Amrita’s voice echoed from below, sharp and commanding. “Hold your positions! Don’t let her reach the panel!”
The guards redoubled their efforts, their movements more coordinated now. But Vishakha’s training and agility gave her the edge. She moved like a shadow, slipping past their defenses and striking with lethal precision.
Within moments, the balcony was clear, the guards incapacitated or disarmed.
Vishakha turned to the control panel, her fingers moving swiftly over the interface. The drones hovering in the atrium below began to react, their targeting systems recalibrating.
“Nish, I’m in. What’s next?”
“See the blue override button? Hit that, and you can force the drones into a reboot cycle. That’ll buy you a few minutes to deal with Amrita.”
Vishakha pressed the button, the interface flickering as the drones’ movements became erratic. One by one, they began to power down, their red lights dimming as they drifted to the floor.
From below, Amrita’s frustration was palpable. “You think that changes anything?” she called, her voice cutting through the silence. “You’ve always been good at tricks, Vishakha, but they won’t save you.”
Vishakha leaned over the balcony, her katars glinting in the faint light. “Maybe not. But they’ve kept me alive this long.”
Amrita’s eyes narrowed, her talwar gleaming as she raised it. “Come down here and face me properly, or do you plan to hide up there until Aryan comes to finish what I’ve started?”
“I’m not the one hiding,” Vishakha replied, her voice cold. “But if you want a fight, I’ll give you one.”
With a leap, she descended from the balcony, landing lightly on the atrium floor. Her katars were at the ready, their blades catching the light as she faced her sister. The drones were no longer a threat, but Amrita’s presence radiated danger.
The tension between them was electric, the years of unspoken grievances and opposing ideals coalescing into this moment.
“You’ve made this your life,” Vishakha said, her voice steady. “Your loyalty to Aryan, to the Shadow Order—it’s blinded you.”
“And you’ve made your life running from the truth,” Amrita countered, her stance firm. “You think you’re better than us, but you’re just as broken, just as lost.”
Their blades met again, the clash of steel reverberating through the atrium. This time, Vishakha fought with renewed purpose. She wasn’t just trying to survive—she was fighting for every life the Shadow Order had taken, every innocent caught in their web of control.
Amrita matched her blow for blow, her movements calculated and relentless. But as the fight wore on, Vishakha began to see the cracks in her sister’s resolve—the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the hesitation in her strikes.
It wasn’t enough to stop her, but it was enough to give Vishakha hope.
Amrita lunged, her talwar slicing through the air with deadly precision. Vishakha dodged, countering with a swift strike that forced her sister back.
“You can still walk away,” Vishakha said, her voice almost pleading. “You don’t have to die for Aryan’s lies.”
Amrita’s expression hardened, her grip tightening on her blade. “This isn’t about Aryan. This is about us. And I won’t let you destroy what we were trained to protect.”
The momentary pause shattered as their blades clashed again, the sound echoing through the atrium like a final verdict.