A Prelude to all legends

An oppressive feeling hung in the air of Shantinivas Inn, a weight shared by all who dwelled there. It was the weight of bridled anger that hung heavy over every man that occupied the tables. The presence of sound was but a feeble mask for the bridled fury that lay beneath the surface. You could feel it in the subtle hints on their faces – faces that bore a hidden pain of frustration, resentment, and discontent towards the source of their misery.

But honest words remained unspoken, for honesty would inflict more harm upon the sullied than any good. Instead, they complained about the pawns who danced to the tune of their masters, and all those suppressed emotions morphed into a dark shadow that dared not venture beyond the inn.

Amidst the deceitful symphony, an unnoticed presence carried an ominous silence. One that could be shattered by various triggers. An insult from a rough tongue, wielding the right words. The utterance of the name of the one who had taken his lover’s life. The piercing gaze of a guard, demanding fear within the eyes of the lesser whose eyes were disconcertingly calm, exceeding what was considered normal.

Beneath the veneer of silence, he harbored a feeling far greater and far more dangerous than any shared within the inn. It was a flame that defied soothing, fueled by a tragedy heavier than a mountain, yearning for a fate darker than the abyss. It was a death knell, destroyer of all that lived beyond a prison known only to him.

Patiently, the man sat, awaiting the wise men with their divyaloha swords to usher him into a dreamless slumber.