The grand ballroom of the Shekhawat mansion was bathed in golden light, shimmering chandeliers reflecting off the polished marble floors. The air was thick with the scent of roses and expensive cologne, as guests murmured in excitement, their eyes fixed on the imposing figure of Rajshekhar Shekhawat standing at the center of the stage.

Avirath stood a few feet behind him, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd, his body still and unreadable. He had been summoned onto the stage, his name called with such finality that even he felt an odd sense of foreboding. Something was coming. Something he hadn’t expected.