Time had slipped by in ways Draupadi barely noticed, each year a brushstroke on a canvas now awash with memories.

She was sixteen years old, before she had even noticed. Draupadi had become a young woman rooted deeply in a land that once felt foreign.

What had started as a reluctant alliance had grown into something she treasured. The elegant halls of Hastinapur now felt more like home than the cold marble corridors of Panchaal ever had.

Her heart had found its rhythm here, beating in time with a family that had embraced her beyond mere obligation.

Her relationship with Arjun, once an awkward pairing born out of a sense of duty, had softened into a closeness neither could have foreseen.

They'd grown beside each other, like two trees with roots so intertwined that she no longer knew where hers ended and his began.

And she adored the life she had here-the quiet dignity of Kunti's guidance, the protective warmth of Gandhari, and the laughter that often sparked from Madri.

They weren't just mentors; they were mothers in spirit. Pandu and Dhritarashtra, too, treated her as a daughter, never a mere guest.

The bond she had with them all was woven into the very essence of her, an anchor she never wished to uproot.

Her sister-in-law, Jeevika and mother visited often, gently nudging Draupadi to return to Panchaal.

And while she loved her homeland, there was a part of her that resisted. How could she leave the friends who had become as close as family?

This place had her heart; here, she was understood, accepted, and loved.

The thought of leaving felt like ripping pages from the story of her life.

Lost in this comforting tide of memories, Draupadi was jolted back to the present as Jeevika's voice dropped to a whisper, spinning the room into a tense silence.

The oil lamps flickered against the roaring storm outside, casting eerie, dancing shadows on the walls.

Rain pelted the windows in relentless waves, and thunder rumbled through the darkened sky, a deep, guttural sound that felt like it had claws.

Jeevika continued her tale, her voice hushed, haunting:

"They say he was a tall, shadowy figure, always dressed in black, his eyes hollow pits of darkness. No one knew where he came from, only that every full moon, a young maiden would vanish, only to be found lifeless, her head severed from her body. Each head he claimed, he'd hang from the highest tree, letting it sway like a ghostly lantern, a warning to any who dared venture into the forest alone."

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, and the room seemed to shrink as the girls exchanged terrified glances. The howling wind grew louder, scratching against the walls as if demanding to be let in.

Draupadi shivered, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest, the terror creeping up her spine.

She dared not speak, her throat tight with the kind of fear that felt almost tangible. The other girls' faces were pale, eyes wide with dread as the story unfolded.

Vijaya sat with her knees drawn to her chest, clutching a cushion so tightly her knuckles were white. Her gaze darted toward the door, as if half-expecting the shadowy figure to appear there, his hollow eyes watching them, waiting.

Karenumati bit her lip, her face drained of color, her fingers tracing nervous patterns on the hem of her dress.

Even Hidimbi, usually the boldest among them, looked stricken, her usual bravado shattered in the presence of the chilling tale.

As the thunder boomed again, Dushala let out a small gasp, covering her mouth as her eyes darted around the room.

"I heard," whispered Devika, her voice barely audible, "that if you make eye contact with him, you can feel his blade against your neck even before he strikes. That's why no one ever survives to speak of him."

The flickering candlelight only heightened their fears, casting ominous shadows that seemed to crawl across the walls.

Outside, the trees swayed violently under the storm, branches scratching against the windows, each sound sharper, more insistent than the last.

The relentless wind carried the faint, ghostly echoes of something far more sinister than just the rain.

A soft creak came from the hallway, and every head whipped toward the door, breath held in collective suspense.

The atmosphere in the room thickened as the door began to tremble under the pressure of something on the other side.

A series of low thuds echoed through the dimness, almost rhythmic, each strike sending a shockwave of fear coursing through the girls.

"W-what was that?" Karenumati squeaked, clutching Draupadi's arm as if it were a lifeline. The girls huddled closer, the warmth of their bodies doing little to stave off the encroaching terror.

Then, through the heavy silence, a voice emerged. It was a deep, guttural sound that slithered through the air like a snake, wrapping around their throats and squeezing. "Let me in... little maidens... I've come for you..."

A collective gasp rippled through the group. The darkness outside felt alive, pulsing with an energy that made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end.

"Who is it?" Jeevika called out, her voice wavering despite her attempt at bravery. "Show yourself!"

"Open the door and see... the flowers that bloom from your fear," the voice crooned, its tone both mocking and inviting, sending chills down their spines.

Draupadi felt her heart racing, the beat echoing loudly in her ears. "It can't be real," she whispered, trying to convince herself. "It's just a trick. It has to be."

But then the door rattled violently, as if something heavy was pressing against it, and the windows rattled in their frames, allowing the wind to spill in with a feral howl.

The oil lamps flickered and threatened to extinguish, plunging them into darkness once more.

Jeevika stepped back, her eyes wide. "We can't let it in!" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's trying to scare us!"

As if in response to her words, the voice took on an almost playful tone, a sinister laughter reverberating through the door. "I see your fear, sweet maidens... so palpable... so delicious..."

"No! Leave us alone!" Dushala cried, her voice cracking with fright. She turned to the others, panic in her eyes. "What do we do? We can't just stand here!"

The voice grew louder, more insistent. "Your bravery is admirable... but you cannot escape me. I will find you, wherever you hide." The sound seemed to swirl around them, echoing off the walls, saturating the air with a sickly sweet menace.

Suddenly, a sharp crack sounded from the window, as if something had struck it from outside.

The girls shrieked in unison, their voices rising in a crescendo of fear as they spun toward the sound.

A shadow flitted past the glass, dark and fleeting, like a wraith in the storm.

Draupadi clutched her knees tighter, her breath quickening as her imagination spiraled into horror.

"It's just the wind," she muttered under her breath, though the words felt hollow even to her. "It's just the wind..."

But then the shadows outside twisted and churned, revealing ghostly shapes that darted through the trees.

"Can you see them?" Vijaya whimpered, her voice trembling as she pointed out the window, where pale faces seemed to stare back at them from the darkness, their eyes glinting with a malevolent hunger.

"Stop it! You're making it worse!" Hidimbi cried, but her own voice trembled as she backed away from the window.

Jeevika felt the weight of the room shift as the girls clustered around her, their eyes wide with terror.

"We need to stay quiet," she said, though her voice quaked with uncertainty. "If we're quiet, maybe it'll go away..."

In that moment, the door shuddered again, louder this time, and a low growl emanated from the other side, rumbling like thunder.

"Your silence only draws me closer," it taunted, its voice slinking through the cracks and wrapping around them like cold fingers.

Then, without warning, the oil lamps extinguished completely, leaving them in utter darkness.

The storm raged outside, but inside, it was a different kind of tempest-the kind that swirled around them, filled with dread and uncertainty.

"Drau!" one of the girls whispered, gripping her hand tightly. "What do we do?"

"I-I don't know," Draupadi stammered, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. "But we can't let it in!"

Suddenly, they heard a soft scratching sound on the door, a sound like fingernails dragging against wood, sending a fresh wave of terror coursing through them.

The darkness seemed to close in around them, thick and suffocating.

The only light came from the faint flicker of the storm outside, illuminating the girls' wide eyes and pale faces, reflecting their mounting fear.

"Together," Jeevika finally breathed, taking a step forward as if to confront the unknown. "We'll face it together."

But the door creaked ominously, and a voice rasped, "You cannot run from the truth of your fears... they will find you..."

The girls held their breath, gripping each other tightly, hearts racing as the storm outside echoed their inner turmoil.

They could almost feel the presence pressing against the door, an insatiable hunger that promised only darkness.

The door flew open with a loud crash, causing the girls to erupt in terrified screams, the sound echoing like a chorus of frightened birds.

They instinctively cowered on the bed, eyes shut tight, praying to whatever gods might be listening that the horror would pass.

But instead, their panic was met with a cascade of hearty male laughter that filled the room, slicing through the tension like a knife.

When they finally dared to open their eyes, they were met with the sight of Nakul and Bheem, nearly rolling on the ground with laughter.

Duryodhan stood beside them, arms crossed and wearing a devilish grin, while Dushasan leaned against the wall, smirking as he enjoyed the chaos.

Yudhisthir, trying valiantly to maintain some semblance of dignity, smiled amusedly, though the corners of his lips twitched with the urge to join in the hilarity.

And there was Arjun, laughing heartily, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Well, well, well,” Bheem boomed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as he stepped forward, towering over the girls. “What’s this? A room full of maidens too scared to face the world? Did we interrupt a secret meeting of the terrified?”

Hidimbi glared at him, her face flushed. “You could have knocked!” she shot back, trying to sound brave despite her quivering voice. “What kind of monster bursts through a door like that?”

“Just a monster with a great sense of humor!” Bheem chuckled, glancing at Nakul, who was already setting his sights on Karenumati.

“Didn’t know you were so easily frightened, Karenumati!” Nakul teased, his voice lilting with mock seriousness. “Next time, maybe we should bring some real monsters for you to scream at!”

“Oh, please! If you’re the monster, I think I’d rather take my chances with the one outside,” she retorted, her fear quickly replaced by playful indignation.

Sehdev leaned over to Vijaya, smirking. “You should have seen your face, Vijaya! I thought you were going to faint! Or maybe just fly out of the window!”

“Ha ha, very funny, Sehdev,” she shot back, rolling her eyes, though she couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re just lucky I’m not afraid of you!”

Meanwhile, Yudhisthir, ever the gentleman, turned to Devika. “I believe you owe me a retelling of the tale, Devika. I didn’t realize how much of a dramatist you were!” he teased gently.

“Only because I can’t scare you with my stories!” she retorted, raising an eyebrow. “But trust me, the next one will be about how to tame unruly princes.”

Dushala, glaring at her brother Duryodhan, stepped forward, hands on her hips. “And you, brother, should learn some manners. You scared us half to death! What’s your excuse?”

“Just practicing my entrance for the next festival, dear sister,” Duryodhan shot back, a smirk dancing on his lips. “A grand entrance requires a grand scare, don’t you think?”

Before Dushala could respond, Dushasan chimed in, “You could use some practice at not being a scaredy-cat, Dushala! Or perhaps we need to bring you a pillow to scream into?”

“Shut up, jyest!” she snapped, rolling her eyes again.

Jeevika, unable to contain herself any longer, aimed a playful swat at Dushasan, who yelped and darted away from her grasp.

“You better run!” she laughed, chasing him as he sprinted out of the room, hollering apologies that echoed through the hallways.

With the atmosphere slowly shifting back to normal, the other girls began to gather their skirts, ready to leave. “You’re all impossible!” Hidimbi huffed, glaring at the boys. “You think it’s funny to scare us?”

“It’s hilarious, actually!” Nakul replied, grinning.

“I’m out of here,” Karenumati announced, shaking her head as she headed toward the door. The others followed suit, their laughter mingling with mock indignation.

As the room emptied, Draupadi felt the tension slip away, but her cheeks burned when her eyes met Arjun's.

He stood in the midst of the room like a warrior carved out of legend, his presence commanding and undeniable.

The storm outside seemed to pale in comparison to the storm he stirred within the hearts of those around him.

He was a vision of raw masculinity and regal power, yet there was an undeniable elegance in every movement, a grace that belied the brute strength of his warrior’s form.

Dressed in a pristine white angvastra, the fabric clung to his chiseled chest with the ease of familiarity, its soft silk glimmering with intricate gold work that traced the edges like the brushstrokes of an artist capturing the essence of royalty.

The angvastra fell elegantly over his shoulders, the long fabric billowing out slightly around his waist, where the rich gold embroidery of his dhoti added a regal flair to his powerful presence.

The dhoti, finely woven with threads of gold, complimented his broad frame, cinching at the waist to emphasize the strength in his legs — legs that had carried him through countless battles, a testament to his prowess.

His long hair, dark as the night but shimmering like silk, was gathered in a high man bun, the loose strands around his face falling like soft waves across his forehead.

There was something untamed about the way his hair fell, as though even the wind could not sway it, yet it had a softness that matched the fire in his heart.

His hazel eyes, deep and rich like the earth after a rainstorm, glowed with a quiet intensity.

They shimmered with secrets, reflections of a past too heavy for words and a future shaped by his unyielding resolve.

Those eyes, though often intense and distant, held an unspeakable warmth when they landed on those he loved — and an undeniable sharpness when he had a goal in mind.

His jawline was strong and square, a warrior’s jaw, but there was a gentle curve to it that softened his rugged handsomeness.

His lips, though rarely parted in a smile, held a quiet confidence, as if he knew that the world itself had bowed to his power.

His stature was tall and imposing, each muscle finely honed from years of training, but there was an ease to the way he carried himself, as if he had been born to command and to conquer.

When he moved, it was with the grace of a panther, every step measured and purposeful, like a predator in his prime.

And yet, there was something about him that was not only intimidating but also magnetic.

He was not just beautiful; he was the embodiment of strength and beauty intertwined.

He was the kind of man that made the air seem charged when he walked into a room, like the world itself acknowledged his power and grace.

He was both the storm and the calm — fierce yet undeniably beautiful.

And in the fleeting moments of silence between them, his very presence commanded attention, not by words but by the sheer force of his being.

He stepped closer, amused by his girl's attention, that stroked the flame of love in his heart.

“So, Drau, I suppose you enjoy being scared out of your wits?”

Her heart raced, partly from the teasing and partly from the lingering thrill of fear, snapping her out of her daze.

She mentally chastised herself, her cheeks heating, once she realised that he had indeed noticed her ogling. What was wrong with her?

“I don’t enjoy anything that involves you and your brothers sneaking up on us!” she retorted, though her voice lacked any real bite.

Her heart pumped furiously as he stepped closer, her breathing increasing with each step.

Arjun’s laughter echoed in the room, warm and infectious. All too aware of what's happening to her. “Come on, it was just a bit of fun! Besides, you looked cute when you were scared,” he said, winking at her.

“Cute?” Draupadi spluttered, heat flooding her cheeks. “I was terrified!”

“Exactly!” he shot back with a grin. “And that’s what made it so delightful.”

As the laughter faded and silence enveloped them, the atmosphere shifted again, leaving just Arjun and Draupadi in the midst of the chaos.

She found herself gazing into his eyes, the bond between them feeling as solid as ever, yet filled with an unspoken tension.

And just like that, in the aftermath of fear and laughter, Draupadi couldn’t help but feel a spark of warmth blossom in her chest, illuminating the dark corners of the stormy night outside. . .

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