From the survivor to the vanisher

The grand hall of the Hamsa Kingdom, now a shadow of its former glory, bore the marks of conquest. The banners of Dumir hung where the royal sigils of Hamsa once flew proudly. Master Rudra, recently appointed as the kingdom's ruler by Dumir's imperial council, sat on the throne—a throne that once belonged to King Sarvata.

Rudra was no ordinary ruler. His mastery of martial arts was unparalleled, his reputation as a strategist widely feared. Dumir had placed him here not as a sovereign king but as a watchdog, tasked with securing their dominance over the conquered kingdom. Yet, Rudra's sharp mind could not ignore the unease that came with his appointment.

Sitting stiffly on the throne, Rudra addressed the gathered council of Dumir officials and Hamsa defectors. "The royal bloodline of Hamsa—are you certain it has been eradicated?"

The question caused a ripple of discomfort among the council. Yash, Dumir's chief envoy, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, when Dumir's forces seized the Hamsa Kingdom, we ensured the eradication of King Sarvata and his family. The siege was thorough. The royal palace was burned to the ground, and no survivors were reported."

Rudra's piercing gaze didn't waver. "No survivors reported. And yet Dumir's council sends me here, not just to rule but to ensure the bloodline never rises again. Why the paranoia?"

The hall fell silent, save for the crackling of torches lining its walls.

Bhairav, a grizzled warrior and one of Rudra's trusted confidants, broke the silence. "The fear isn't unfounded, Your Majesty. The Hamsa royals were no ordinary rulers. Their mastery of martial arts was legendary, rivaled only by their expertise in alchemy. It is said they wielded powers capable of shifting the tides of war with ease."

Rudra raised an eyebrow. "Powers? Elaborate."

Bhairav hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The Hamsa royals had an ancient secret—techniques and knowledge passed down their bloodline. Dumir's forces may have destroyed their kingdom, but they never uncovered these secrets. That is why they fear the bloodline. If even one descendant survived, they could become a rallying symbol, a force capable of threatening Dumir's rule."

Rudra leaned back, his expression unreadable. "And yet, no one can confirm their complete eradication. Tell me, Bhairav, what do the whispers in the shadows say?"

Bhairav glanced around the room, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "There are rumors, Your Majesty. Rumors that a child—a royal heir—was smuggled out of the palace several years before the siege. Loyalists claim the bloodline still exists, hidden and waiting for the right moment to rise."

The council erupted into murmurs, the tension in the room palpable.

Rudra raised a hand, silencing them. "Enough." His voice was calm but carried an edge of authority.

The Keeper of Records, an elderly man with a stooped posture and a wealth of knowledge, was summoned. He arrived clutching a thick tome, its pages yellowed with age. Bowing deeply, he addressed Rudra. "Your Majesty, how may I serve?"

"You will recount the fall of King Sarvata in detail," Rudra commanded. "Spare nothing."

The Keeper opened his tome, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "King Sarvata was a formidable ruler, a master of martial arts and alchemy. When Dumir launched its assault, they brought overwhelming numbers and advanced weaponry. The siege lasted weeks, but the Hamsa forces were eventually overrun. The royal palace was set ablaze, and Sarvata, along with his family, was said to have perished within its walls."

"'Said to have perished,'" Rudra echoed. "No bodies recovered?"

The Keeper hesitated. "The coalition claimed victory, but the destruction of the palace was so extensive that no remains could be definitively identified. It was a symbolic gesture, Your Majesty—an act meant to eradicate not just the family but their legacy."

Rudra's expression darkened. "Symbolism doesn't erase reality. If the bloodline still exists, Dumir's grip on this kingdom will be tenuous at best."

As the council debated, Rudra's mind worked furiously. He had served Dumir loyally for years, but the fear surrounding the Hamsa bloodline intrigued him. What kind of power could inspire such dread in an empire as vast as Dumir?

When the council dispersed, Rudra called Bhairav and the Keeper of Records to his private chambers.

"I want every record, every rumor, every shred of evidence about the Hamsa bloodline," Rudra ordered. "If the royal family truly mastered techniques capable of turning the tide of war, I will uncover them. And if a descendant remains, they will either submit to Dumir—or be eradicated."

Bhairav saluted. "And the loyalists, Your Majesty? There are still whispers of rebellion."

Rudra smirked faintly. "Let the whispers grow. They will reveal themselves in time. And when they do, we'll strike."

The Keeper hesitated before speaking. "Your Majesty, if I may… there is one tale, an unverified account, of a midwife who claimed to have smuggled a child out of the palace several years before the siege."

Rudra's eyes narrowed. "A midwife? Where is she now?"

"She vanished shortly after the fall of the kingdom," the Keeper admitted. "But the story persists. Some say she fled to a distant village, others that she was silenced by Dumir's secret agents."

Rudra's smirk deepened. "Interesting. If there is even a shred of truth to this, we must find her—or her trail. Bhairav, send scouts to the outskirts of the kingdom. Discreetly. I want answers."

As the night deepened, Rudra stood by the window of his chambers, gazing at the distant mountains. The Hamsa Kingdom had been reduced to a vassal state, its glory tarnished, its people subjugated. Yet, the fear that clung to its royal bloodline lingered like a shadow over Dumir's victory.

"If the bloodline lives," Rudra murmured to himself, "they will either become Dumir's greatest weapon—or its undoing."

The faint moonlight illuminated his face, revealing a flicker of something unspoken—a hunger for the truth, perhaps, or a spark of ambition. Whatever it was, it hinted at the storm to come.