The gates loomed in front of him, black stone dancers frozen mid-twirl, and Anand took a breath.

  *Alright. Let's do this.*

  He stepped forward.

  Didn't even make it three paces.

  "Hey. You."

  Anand stopped. Turned.

  Five boys stood in a loose semicircle behind him. Ages looked around thirteen, maybe fourteen. Good clothes. Not quite Brahmapuri-level wealth, but the kind of silk that said *my family matters around here*. Their postures had that particular looseness that came from growing up never getting hit back.

  "This is a restricted area," the tall one said. "Can't you read? Or do they not teach that wherever you crawled out from?"

  The other boys snickered. One of them, stockier, with small eyes, crossed his arms. "Probably some village kid who got lost. Look at his clothes. Decent, but—" He squinted. "Actually, those are extremely good"

  Anand said nothing.

  Inside, something was happening.

  A warmth spread through his chest. Not the chakra kind. Not the prana kind.The other kind. The kind that felt like diwali morning and birthday cake and that moment right before a roller coaster drops.

  *Finally.*

  *FINALLY.*

  He'd waited eleven years for this. Eleven years of bows and whispers and "Deva putra this" and "Deva putra that." Eleven years of everyone knowing exactly who he was and treating him like he might break.

  And now? Now some random rich kids in a city he'd never visited thought he was *nobody*.

  It was beautiful.

  He almost wanted to hug them.

  "You deaf or something?" The tall boy stepped closer. "I said this area's restricted. My father's on the city council. I can have guards drag you out. Or worse."

  The stocky kid grinned. "Yeah. Or worse."

  Anand opened his mouth. He didn't know what he was going to say exactly, but it didn't matter. Whatever came out, it would be followed by action. Finally. FaceSlapping.

  "Get lost."

  The voice came from behind him. Female. Young. But carrying something that made the words land like stones.

  The boys' faces changed.

  The tall one's confident smile flickered, died, and was replaced by something that looked almost like fear. The stocky kid actually stepped back. All five of them went still in that particular way people do when they've been caught doing something they absolutely shouldn't be doing.

  Then, as one, they bowed.

  "Devi Putri," they mumbled. Not loud. Not proud. The kind of mumble people do when they're hoping the ground will open up and swallow them.

  Anand turned.

  A girl stood a few feet away. Around his age, maybe a year older. Dark hair pulled back in a practical braid, not done up like the noble girls in Brahmapuri. Simple clothes well-made, but simple. The kind of simple that cost more than most people's elaborate outfits because the fabric and stitching were that good.

  Her face was calm. Not cold, just... settled. Like she'd seen this kind of thing before and found it boring.

  She looked at the boys. Didn't say anything. Just looked.

  They fled.

  Actually fled. Turned and walked quickly toward the gate, then broke into a jog once they thought they were out of sight.

  Anand watched them go, something complicated happening in his chest. On one hand, his beautiful face-slapping scene had been stolen right out from under him. On the other hand... *Devi Putri?*

  Wait.

  *Devi Putri.*

  That wasn't a casual title. That was the female equivalent of Deva Putra. Son of the clan head's heir. Daughter of the clan head's heir.

  Which meant-

  "You're Anand, right?" The girl stepped closer. Her voice was straightforward. No fancy courtesies, no elaborate greetings. Just... words. Like talking to a person. "Your grandfather sent a message to my grandmother. She runs this place."

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  Anand blinked. "Ah Yeah grandpa told me about your grandma"

  "Adopted grandmother. But yes." She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "I'm Arpita. I'm supposed to show you around."

  Right. Of course. The Pitamaha's old flame had a granddaughter. And she'd been dispatched to babysit the visiting royalty.

  Anand tried very hard not to think about his grandfather's marriage jokes.

  "Thanks," he said. "For, uh. The rescue." He gestured vaguely toward where the boys had disappeared. "I had it handled, but-"

  "I know." Arpita's mouth twitched. Just slightly. "Your grandpa had come here to announce it that you're the one who opened Muladhara in a year. Pretty sure you could've handled five council brats."

  Anand fell dead silent. What.The.Hell. Pitamaha came here to boast!?That damn old man.

  She started walking toward the gate, clearly expecting him to follow. "But I was coming out anyway, and they annoy me. So."

  Anand followed.

  The gates opened onto a wide stone pathway lined with flowering trees he didn't recognize. Beyond them, buildings rose in that same graceful Bengali style he'd seen from above curved roofs, terracotta details, open pavilions where figures moved in slow, deliberate patterns.

  "So," Arpita said, not looking back. "You need creative activities. For your chakra thing."

  "Your grandmother told you?"

  "My grandmother told me you were coming and to be nice. I asked why. She said something about a sacral chakra and water and painting." She glanced at him.

  Anand shrugged. "Apparently. My mother gave me a whole list. Painting, dancing, music, journaling-" He made a face. "Journaling."

  Arpita's eyebrows went up. "You don't like journaling?"

  "I'm eleven. I don't like writing about my feelings."

  "Huh." She seemed to consider this. "I like it."

  They walked past the first pavilion. Inside, a group of girls around their age moved through a dance sequence slow, graceful, hands forming precise shapes, feet striking the stone floor in a rhythm Anand could feel through his sandals.

  He stopped.

  Watched.

  The dance was... familiar. Not in a way he could name immediately. But the postures, the hand gestures, the way the girls' eyes moved in sync with their bodies something in his chest tightened.

  Arpita noticed him stop. Came back a few steps. "That's Odissi," she said. "One of the classical styles. They've been practicing that piece for three months. Still mess up the transition in the middle." She said it like a critique, but her voice was softer than before.

  Anand shook his head slowly. "Odissi."

  "Yeah. From the eastern regions. Supposedly the devas taught it to some temple dancers ten thousand years ago." She shrugged. "Or that's what the teachers say. You know how they are. Everything's ten thousand years old."

  Anand wasn't really listening.

  Because he *knew* this.

  Not from this life. From before. From his previous life.

  Odissi. From Odisha. One of the eight classical dance forms of India.

  *Eight classical dance forms,* he thought. *Bharatanatyam, Kathak, Kathakali, Kuchipudi, Manipuri, Mohiniyattam, Odissi, Sattriya.*

  He'd never danced. Never cared about dance. But the names had stuck anyway because of learning about them in school.

  "Come on." Arpita was already moving again. "There's more to see."

  They walked.

  Next was a hall filled with the sound of ankle bells. Through an open window, Anand saw a woman teaching a class of younger kids seven, eight years old their feet striking the floor in complicated patterns while their hands told a story he couldn't follow.

  "Bharatanatyam," Anand said, following his gaze. "From the south. Very precise. Every movement means something."

  Arpita stopped walking.

  Turned.

  Looked at him like he'd just sprouted a second head.

  "How do you know that?"

  Anand's brain, which had been happily running on autopilot, suddenly slammed on brakes.

  *Uh.*

  Arpita was staring at him. Not hostile, but *interested*. The kind of interested that meant she was actually paying attention now.

  Anand opened his mouth.

  Closed it.

  Opened it again.

  "I, uh." *Think think think.* "I read a lot?"

  Arpita's eyebrows went up.

  "Books," Anand clarified. "Lots of books. My grandfather has this huge library. And I get bored. So I just... read stuff. Random stuff. And some of it stuck." He shrugged, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile. "You know how it is. You read something once and then it's just... there. In your head. Also , I saw it! I a deva putra obviously during celebrations family invited dancers!" He lies. He has been kept away from all those stuff but she doesnt know that

  Arpita kept looking at him.

  For a long moment.

  "Huh," she said. "True. As deva putra its obvious you would have seen them"

  Anand felt something relax in his chest. "Thanks?"

  "It's not an insult." She started walking again. "Most people here are boring. They're talented, but boring. They know what they're taught and nothing else." She glanced back at him. "You're not boring.

  They passed another pavilion. This one had music a sitar, a tabla, someone singing in a language

  "Kathak," Arpita said, nodding toward the building. "From the north. More Persian influence than the others. Lots of spins. Lots of storytelling." She paused. "My grandmother says it's the most adaptable. You can put Kathak to anything and it still works."

  Anand filed that away. "Do you dance?"

  "Me?" She seemed surprised by the question. "No. I play veena. Been learning since I was four."

  "Four? That's young."

  "Not really. Some start at three." She shrugged. "Art families are weird. We start early and never stop. By the time you're my age, you're either good enough to perform or you've been politely married to some guy from big famiy."

  Anand thought about his own childhood if you could call it that. Meditation. Chakra work. The weight of a clan's expectations on his shoulders. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I get that."

  Arpita looked at him. Really looked, this time. Not the casual glances from before, but something more focused.

  "I heard about you," she said. "Your grandfather boasts a lot about you. Technically we are your family vassals so technically speaking I should adress you respectfully but i wont dont get any weird ideas.

  YES YES Anand thought. He wants to be treated like this. Meanwhile arpita continued.

  "Your grandpa said you opened your first chakra in a year while everyone else takes five." She paused. "They also say you're going to be Chakravarti someday. That the ancestors woke up when you were born."

  Anand didn't say anything.

  "Is it true?" she asked. "All of it?"

  "Most of it," he said. "I don't know about the Chakravarti thing. That's... that's a lot. That's my grandfather's dream, not mine." He paused. "But the rest? Yeah. It's true."

  Arpita nodded slowly.

  She started walking again, faster now. "Come on. There's one more place I want to show you.Where my grandma is so you can begin your training."

  Anand followed, something warm and unexpected settling in his chest.

  *Huh,* he thought. *Made a friend.*

  *That's new.*

  Behind them, the music from the Kathak pavilion swirled on, filling the air with stories he couldn't understand but somehow already knew.