Chapter 2

Rishi's eyes fluttered open, only to be swallowed by darkness. His head throbbed, and the faint smell of damp earth filled his nostrils. He tried to move, only to discover... his hands were tied behind his back.

"Wha—what the hell?!" he gasped, struggling against the ropes. "Did I fall into a dungeon? Did I die? Is this... is this the afterlife?!"

Slowly, carefully, he forced himself upright, legs shaking and arms straining. His heart pounded. Every nerve in his body screamed that something was off. A prickling sensation ran down his spine, his skin crawling.

Then... he felt it. Eyes on him.

Chills erupted from his scalp to his toes. He froze mid-step. His gaze darted into the darkness. Two tiny points of shining, predatory light pierced the shadows.

Rishi screamed—well, internally screamed—but it came out as a strangled, high-pitched squeak. "Oh gods—what now?" He fell back onto the ground, curling up instinctively.

Slowly, squinting and narrowing his eyes to focus, he could make out the figure.

"Parikshit...?" Rishi whispered, trembling so badly he could feel it even in his toes.

The snake before him—Parikshit, the most loyal serpent of Vasuki—stood with an unflinching, cold gaze. His face was stone, and the aura he exuded made even the coldest mountain winds seem like a warm breeze. Anyone would tremble under that look, let alone a weak, panicked, flailing man like Rishi.

"Am I... still dreaming?" he muttered under his breath, voice cracking.

Parikshit began to move toward him. Rishi's eyes snapped shut in panic. Don't look. Don't look. Don't make eye contact. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die.

A deep, cold voice cut through the darkness:

"Who are you?"

Rishi's heart nearly stopped.

"And... what were you doing in the thorn garden?" Parikshit's tone was flat, deadly calm, like ice sliding across obsidian.

Rishi's mind scrambled. Right...Why was I there in the first place?

Suddenly, realization hit him like a bucket of freezing water. Only those who betrayed the king were thrown into the thorn garden to rot and die as punishment.

"What—wait wait wait!" he gasped, eyes wide. "I—I'm not a traitor! I'm not! I swear!"

He opened his eyes and glared at Parikshit, though his limbs were still trembling uncontrollably.

Parikshit's gaze didn't waver. It cut through him like a frozen blade. Even Rishi's toes shivered under the pressure. Then, after a long, chilling silence, the snake spoke:

"I know. I don't remember throwing you there either."

He looked away, still composed, still deadly, and Rishi sagged in relief, collapsing back onto the ground in a mixture of terror and disbelief.

Rishi's brain ran a mile a minute. Okay. So... maybe I'm alive. Maybe I didn't betray anyone. Maybe... maybe I'm still going to die anyway... but at least I didn't die yet.

He flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling—or the dark shadows above—heart still hammering like a drum. Somehow, he had survived the first encounter. Somehow.

Barely.

Rishi's mind raced faster than a monsoon river. Hands tied, toes trembling, heart hammering—he had zero control over anything. Parikshit stood before him, coiled like a living statue of doom, the faint glint of his scales catching the dim light, eyes locked onto Rishi with the intensity of a thousand frozen storms.

"I—I'm really not a traitor!" Rishi squeaked, flailing his bound arms uselessly. "I don't know why I was in the thorn garden! I—uh... I was just... walking? Yeah, walking! Totally innocent walking!"

Parikshit's gaze did not waver. One could imagine a blizzard taking human form—that would be warmer than this stare. Rishi swallowed, feeling his toes curl involuntarily.

"And... you expect me to believe that?" Parikshit asked coldly, voice like ice breaking on stone. "Why should I not consider you guilty?"

"I—because—I mean—look!" Rishi stammered, voice cracking. "I didn't know it was forbidden! I just... I was exploring! Curious! Innocent curiosity! Totally harmless curiosity! I—I—"

His tirade ended in a squeak, and he realized he had been jumping around and gesturing wildly on the mossy floor. His ears burned. Great. First impression: chaos incarnate.

Parikshit shifted slightly, leaning closer. The shadow of his presence pressed down like a tangible weight. "Curiosity... in the thorn garden of the king... a dangerous place."

Rishi shrank backward. "I—I know! I swear! I didn't touch any thorns! Not even a tiny little nibble!"

Parikshit's gaze lingered, unblinking, silent. Rishi's knees wobbled. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest. He tried to calm himself. Okay. Calm. Just... talk... logically...

"Listen!" he squeaked. "I—I'm from... um... far away. Totally far. Different land. I don't belong here! I just... got... here by accident! Yeah! Accident! Total accident! That's me! Rishi, 28, accidental garden trespasser, short, chaotic... definitely not a traitor!"

He opened his mouth. Time to speak! Clear, calm, reasonable explanation!

And yet all that came out was:

"Uh... uh... uh... uh..."

Rishi's hands, still tied behind his back, waved uselessly. His toes curled, his knees buckled slightly. Perfect. Totally brilliant impression: flailing, incoherent, pathetic human. Exactly what every loyal serpent wants to see.

Parikshit's cold, piercing gaze did not waver. Rishi shrank back, teeth chattering. I am so going to die...

Then... a deep, intoxicatingly evil voice rolled through the chamber:

"A human in the realm of snakes? Truly magnificent!"

Rishi's eyes shot open. His heart nearly leapt out of his throat.

From the shadows, Vasuki emerged, tall, composed, and impossibly beautiful, each movement deliberate, each step echoing authority. His smirk was slow, cold, and deadly—like a blade wrapped in silk.

"It's been a while since I've bitten one," he added, voice low and teasing, dripping with menace.

Rishi froze mid-breath. He opened his mouth—again, words refused to come. He had rehearsed so many clever explanations in his head, but now it was like his brain had been replaced with jelly.

Internally, he screamed. Externally... all that came out again was:

"Uh... uh... uh..."

Vasuki's smirk deepened. He crouched slightly, as if inspecting a rare insect. Rishi's knees gave out, but he held himself up—barely. His toes were trembling violently.

Parikshit's cold gaze never left him, watching the panic-melting-human with clinical precision, while Rishi's brain continued its tragic, hilarious internal monologue: Oh gods, he's hot... and terrifying... and I'm probably about to die... WHY IS HE HOT?!

And in that frozen moment, Rishi realized: he might actually survive this... if he could just somehow—somehow—stop being a screaming, flailing mess.

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