The Mirage palace

The mountain stood silent under the dawn — an unmoving sentinel of stone and forgotten stories.Kedar walked alone across the shifting sand, following a path that no mortal could see, guided only by instinct and the warm residue of the golden chain in his hand.
Every step seemed to dull the world behind him. The wind stopped. The sun dimmed. Even the sound of his breath felt like it was being swallowed into the air itself.He wasn’t just approaching the ruin — the ruin was drawing him in.
As he climbed the rocky face, something strange happened: the closer he got to the palace, the further away it appeared. A trick of perspective. He stopped. Closed his eyes. Whispered a grounding mantra.
When he opened them again, the palace stood before him.

---
The Gate of Two Truths
It wasn’t majestic.
It was broken.Weathered stone crumbled in its frame, iron bars bent inward as if pulled by unseen hands. Vines of dry, thorny desert plants clung desperately to its ancient walls.
Yet the air around it pulsed. Glowed. Shifted like heat rising from sand.
For a moment, Kedar saw it as it once was — a towering structure of white stone, banners fluttering in the wind, guards laughing as golden doors opened to nobles and children.
And then, as the illusion slipped, the truth returned — charred stone, doors shattered from within, bloodstains long burned into stone.
Kedar stepped through.
A whisper followed him.
> "You’re too late."



---
Hall of Echoes
The courtyard inside was vast, flanked by collapsed pillars.But the moment Kedar crossed its threshold — the world breathed.
Laughter. Music. Voices.He turned sharply. For half a heartbeat, it felt like the palace was alive again — corridors lit with fire, servants rushing past him.A young prince running freely, chased by indulgent guards.
Kedar blinked — and it all vanished.
He was standing in ruin again. Dust falling silently from the ceiling as massive cracks split the walls.No people. No warmth.Only one thing remained — the sound of chains dragging across the floor, somewhere deep within.

---
Portrait of a Crownless King
He found a wide hall with a single painting on the far wall.A regal young man wearing royal attire, standing with pride.His face was serene — his eyes cold. His crown gleamed unnaturally bright in the dimness.
Below the painting was a timeworn inscription:
> “Prince Mayan — the Dreamer of Ravika.”


For a moment, Kedar almost felt pity. A prince with everything. A prince who wanted more.He stepped back.The painting shifted.The smile on the prince’s lips twisted — widened — until it no longer looked like a smile at all.
The eyes turned completely dark.
> “Do you think you’re different?” the voice said inside his mind.“When the world will never welcome you as you are?”


Kedar’s breath hitched. His heartbeat echoed through the halls.
He turned — the room was gone.

---
Beyond the Mask
Kedar stood alone before a massive staircase leading downward — into the belly of the palace.Something ancient, something angry was waiting there.He felt pressure, as if the walls were closing in — the weight of centuries of despair.
His hand moved unconsciously to the prayer beads at his waist.
> “You failed your people,” the voice echoed around him — countless whispers overlapping.“Just like I failed mine.”


He closed his eyes. He had not failed. He would not.
That was when he heard it — not illusion, not memory — a real cry for help.
A child’s voice, deep in the palace.
Kedar tensed. Then descended into the dark.

---
The shadows below shaped themselves as if eager for him. Behind the walls, laughter grew louder.He didn’t know yet that every sound was both a lie and a truth.
And at the heart of the palace — the cursed prince waited, watching, smiling.

To be continued.....