A wild, untamed bird, only taking flight when no eyes were upon her. No cage could hold her, no hands could tame her.

Many tried, but all failed.

A strange creature with an even stranger name.

Time.

It had a way of slipping by unnoticed, just like the last four years, that vanished in what felt like the blink of an eye.

In that time, Dhrishtadyumna completed his training under none other than guru Dronacharya, the very man he was born to kill. And yet, despite knowing exactly what fate had in store, Dronacharya accepted him as a student. Perhaps in an attempt to move past old grudges.

And Drupad, for once, chose restraint over rivalry, setting aside years of bitterness to thank Drona as an old friend. It was a moment heavy with irony, yet surprisingly free of hostility. A rare instance where the past did not dictate the present, even if for once.

And, Dhrishtadyumna spent eleven months deep in the forests of Northern Panchal, sharpening his skills to become the warrior he was destined to be.

While Kaushiki missed him far too much. For the first few weeks after Dhrishtadyumna left, Kaushiki was quieter than usual. Her usual mischiefs came to a halt, the palace halls void of her chaotic energy.

Shikhandini had been way too amused, wondering if the heavens had finally tamed her. But then, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Kaushiki found her way back----pulling pranks, causing trouble, and filling the palace with laughter once more.

Yet, deep down, she still missed him.

And when the day of his return finally arrived, she didn't wait for the formal welcome, didn't care for the proper courtesies. The moment she spotted him stepping into the courtyard, tall and battle-worn from the months of training, she immediately ran towards him.

"BHRATAAAA SHREEEEE!"

Before he could brace himself, she launched at him like a whirlwind, knocking him straight to the ground with a loud thud. He groaned as she landed on top of him, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck.

"You were gone like, forever! I thought you'd return with a beard as long as a Rishi! And do you know how boring it was without you? No one to steal sweets for me, no one to take my side when Shikhandini jiji scolds me, and don't even get me started on how I had to prank Draupadi jiji alone, do you know how hard that is?"

Dhrishtadyumna, still dazed, coughed as he tried to sit up. "Kaushiki... can we at least stand before you suffocate me with your love?"

She pouted but relented, helping him up before hugging him again, but this time, gentler.

"I missed you" she mumbled against his shoulder.

Dhrishtadyumna smiled, patting her head. "I missed you too, little one."

And just like that, the palace of Panchal was whole again.

As the years passed further, Kaushiki's bond with her siblings strengthened into something as unbreakable as an iron chain, though significantly more chaotic.

Draupadi was her steadfast partner-in-mischief, always ready with a clever idea or a well-thought-out excuse. While Dhrishtadyumna, played the role of the ever-reliable elder brother, dutifully swooped in to save the day whenever their antics went too far.

However, even the valiant Dhrishtadyumna's efforts were futile in the face of their eldest sister, Shikhandini, the unshakable wall of discipline.

Shikhandini was impervious to everything, whether it's Kaushiki's doe-eyed innocence that could melt a stone-hearted soldier, or Draupadi's full proof and debate-worthy explanations, and even Dhrishtadyumna's solemn promises of "This will definitely be the last time!"

It was as if Shikhandini had developed an immunity to all their tricks. Her expression often revealed the battle raging within, a strong desire to toss all three of them into the nearest well versus her better judgment as a responsible elder sister.

But Shikhandini's punishments, while not dramatic, were no less mortifying. She'd have them stand with their arms raised like human scarecrows until their shoulders screamed for mercy. Or make them repeat "We won't do it again" so many times that their tongues tied into knots. Kaushiki swore her tongue learned to roll backward at will because of it.

Every time, Kaushiki and Draupadi would exchange glances, silently plotting how to get revenge, Dhrishtadyumna would just sigh in defeat, clearly wondering if his sisters were worth all the trouble. But the truth was evident, that they were and he wouldn't have it any other way.

And just like that, through this whirlwind of childish chaos, Kaushiki blossomed into a striking maiden of twenty-one. Yet, despite her age, she was still the free-spirited hurricane of Panchal.

But things were changing.

Draupadi, now nearing a marriageable age, had begun dedicating most of her time to learning the finer skills expected of a princess. Lessons in diplomacy, grace, household management, and everything that will shape her into a good wife, and perhaps a queen one day.

But Kaushiki, on the other hand, still had time. No one forced her to sit through these tedious sessions just yet, but she knew the moment was approaching. She would have to grow wiser, more poised, more... regal.

The realization struck harder than she expected, and it came with the news of Devika and Danika's engagement. The twins----inseparable since birth, were to be wed to two brothers, a young chief of the army and the Agriculture minister from Hastinapur.

But the sisters were truly happy, because their biggest fear had been separation. But now, even after marriage, they would remain together like always.

But that didn't stop their friends from turning the occasion into pure chaos.

"You both won't just be married, you'll be running the full house now! Just imagine, you'll scold your husbands together, raise kids together!" Indu teased, winking.

"Or better, if one fights with her husband, the other might just start a war at home for emotional support!" Uma added, feigning horror.

"Or maybe" Kaushiki chimed in with a smirk "we should all start saving up now to bribe your husbands so they don't return you both in a week."

The room burst into laughter as the twins groaned, their faces turning the color of ripe tomatoes.

But beneath the teasing, beneath the endless giggles, they all felt it----the shift. The winds of change had arrived.

The carefree days of their childhood were slipping away, one by one. And though Kaushiki masked it well with her usual antics, she felt the weight of it pressing on her the most.

Because as a princess, she wasn't just a daughter of a royal house, she was a reflection of her lineage, a symbol of her kingdom.

Panchal had loved her, cherished her, and soon, she would have to rise to meet its expectations.

No more running from responsibilities. No more pranking her way out of trouble.

For the first time she understood, change wasn't just coming.

It was here, embracing her in its arms.

And this time she embraced it too.

It started subtly, so subtly that no one noticed at first.

Kaushiki still laughed freely, still played mischiefs, still found ways to slip past her duties when she could.

But between the pranks and playful chaos, she had begun sitting through the lessons meant for a princess, paying attention to the details of administration, listening when the elders spoke of alliances and governance.

She had even started learning embroidery, not just for fun but with patience. She sat beside Draupadi during her lessons, not because she was forced, but because she wanted to.

But the real shock came at dinner.

For years, mealtimes had been the same, Kaushiki would finish her food at lightning speed, sometimes even sneaking extra sweets, just so she could escape and dedicate her time to mischief and playing. She used to chatter, joke, and sometimes even make Shikhandini scold her for talking with her mouth full.

But from the last few days, it was different.

She sat with poise, her movements deliberate, her posture straight, eating slowly with the grace expected of a princess. She did not rush, did not snatch extra ladoos when no one was looking, did not try to run away the moment her plate was empty.

And today the silence at the dining felt way too deafening.

Drupad, who had been mid-conversation with Shikhandini, suddenly paused and blinked at her. Draupadi nearly choked on her water as she eyed her sister, while Dhrishtadyumna looked genuinely concerned.

"Who are you" Shikhandini finally broke the silence "and what have you done to our Kaushiki?"

Kaushiki looked up from her plate and raised a brow "What?"

Dhrishtadyumna leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You're eating like a.... civilized human."

"And you haven't once tried to sneak out of the dining hall before someone asks you to stay and listen to the discussions" Draupadi added, tilting her head in suspicion.

Drupad, studied her for a moment before speaking "Did something happen?" His tone was calm, but there was a weight of concern behind his words.

Kaushiki sighed, setting down her spoon and looked at each of them, then smiled softly "Nothing happened. But I've realized that it's time when I should start behaving according to my age, so I need to start learning. And it won't happen in a day, so I'm beginning now."

Her words settled over them like a gentle breeze, unexpected yet carrying a quiet strength.

For a moment, there was silence again, then Shikhandini sighed dramatically "I miss our old Kaushiki."

Kaushiki huffed "Oh, please. I still have enough mischief left in me to make your life difficult."

Dhrishtadyumna grinned. "Good. It would be boring otherwise."

Draupadi smiled, warmth filling her eyes. "I think it's wonderful. You're growing up, turning into the princess Panchal deserves."

Drupad said nothing at first, just watched her for a long moment. Then, finally, he nodded in approval, a hint of pride flickering in his gaze.

Kaushiki exhaled softly. Change was strange and unfamiliar. But for the first time, she wasn't running from it.

She was embracing it.

But that didn't mean she had abandoned the heart of who she was.

She still cracked foolish jokes that made Draupadi shake her head and Shikhandini sigh in exasperation.

She still snuck out of the palace, bare feet brushing against the dewy grass, just to run freely through the flower fields, arms outstretched like a bird tasting the sky.

She still twirled in the rain, laughing as droplets clung to her eyelashes, soaking her in the scent of earth and freedom.

She did all of it, but not as a princess bound by the duties. She did it as Kaushiki, the girl who refused to let life's burdens dim her spirit.

And just like that, today.

After spending some time learning the art of cooking from her Jyeshth Mata Prishati, who was patiently teaching them how to craft an array of drinks, ranging from sweet, sour, tangy to spicy.

Kaushiki successfully mastered the recipe of tangy, refreshing aam panna made from raw mangoes and the fragrant, syrupy gulab ras, and that seemed like sufficient progress for today in her eyes. Meanwhile Draupadi, ever the diligent one remained behind, eagerly learning yet another recipe, while Kaushiki happily made her escape.

And found herself buzzing with excitement after hearing some chatter from her friends, that a kite competition was about to take place in the open group near the river.

The idea of colorful kites soaring through the skies had sparked an unstoppable itch in her mischief-loving heart. Naturally, her first target to rope into the adventure was Draupadi.

However, convincing her wasn't as easy as Kaushiki had imagined. Draupadi, the picture of poise and practicality, folded her arms and firmly said "Absolutely not, Kaushiki. You're not a kid anymore, this is a terrible idea."

But Kaushiki wasn't the one to give up so easily.

What began as sweet pleading quickly devolved into her flopping onto Draupadi's lap, whining like a stubborn toddler. "Please, jiji! Pretty please! What's the harm in flying a kite? Don't you want me to win? Imagine the glory, the fame, the... um, fun!" she said, dramatically clasping her hands and blinking up at Draupadi with exaggerated innocence.

Draupadi tried to remain firm, but Kaushiki's persistence reached a whole new, utterly ridiculous heights. At one point, she even tugged at Draupadi's braid and declared "If you don't let me go, I'll lie to Shikhandini jiji that it was your idea!" That was the final straw. Draupadi groaned, throwing her hands in the air in surrender.

If Draupadi had known that this is what she would have to endure, then she might have gladly turned around and walked straight back into the same holy pyre she had emerged from.

Anything would have been better than enduring her younger sister's relentless antics, which now felt less like sibling mischief and more like divine punishment disguised as familial bonding.

"Fine! But if Shikhandini jiji finds out, you're on your own!" she snapped, though a small smile crept onto her face as Kaushiki jumped up with a victorious squeal. As always, Kaushiki's boundless energy and shameless antics had won the day.

And she wasted no time and slipped into the attire of a commoner, her excitement bubbling like a brook after a rainstorm. And with Draupadi's reluctant help, she stealthily made her way out of the palace, her friends giggling beside her under their veils as all of them hurried through the grand gates under the disguise of common people.

The vibrant and colorful kites clutched tightly in their hands, each one a masterpiece of art, as they dashed straight to the open ground. The warm breeze carried their laughter, and the sight of the endless sky awaiting their kites made Kaushiki's heart race with exhilaration.

As they reached the lively crowd gathered for the competition, Kaushiki wasted no time and set her kite soaring into the sky, her movements quick and confident as though she'd been born for this moment.

One by one, she cut through several kites with precision, her eyes sparkling with determination. Amidst the cheers and laughter, Veda pointed toward a bold red kite, its string taut and proud as it danced at the highest point in the sky.

"Cut that one, Kaushiki! It's reigning over the rest!" She urged, her voice laced with excitement.

Kaushiki smirked, her competitive spirit igniting. "As you wish, my dear Vedu. Watch and learn" she declared with dramatic flair, her eyes narrowing in focus. A playful glint flashed in her honey-brown eyes as she maneuvered her kite like a warrior wielding her sword. The battle in the sky was fierce, but with sharp, strategic tugs, Kaushiki finally severed the string of the mighty red kite.

The crimson kite faltered, spiraling downward in defeat, and their entire group erupted into joyous squeals of victory. Kaushiki threw her hands up triumphantly, her laughter ringing out like a melody. "Behold the champion of the skies!" she proclaimed with mock grandeur, basking in their animated cheers.

But as the red kite began to drift away with the playful whims of the wind, Kaushiki's eyes widened in alarm. Without hesitation, she shoved the thread of her own kite into Anagha's hands with a dramatic sense of urgency.

"You all handle this one! Guard it like your life depends on it" she ordered, her tone serious yet laced with excitement. "I'll go after our victory kite and bring it back like a true champion!"

Before anyone could respond, she bolted after the elusive red kite. Her anklets jingled wildly as she sprinted through the open field. Her hair flew behind her like a dark banner.

Her laughter mixed with her determined cheers "Victory belongs to us, and no wind can steal it!"

But the kite showed no mercy, and danced further away with each step she took. Kaushiki huffed in frustration, her breaths growing heavier with each stride. "Hey, Vayu Dev! My feet are about to give up on me! Surely you must be tired too, carrying this kite for so long. How about we call it even and you let it rest now?" she pleaded, her voice a mix of desperation and tiredness.

And as if the wind god himself had taken pity on her plight, the gusts softened. The playful kite, once soaring high, began to descend, swaying gently as it lost momentum. Kaushiki stopped in her tracks, hands on her knees, panting as she muttered "Looks like even Vayu Dev agrees with my wisdom."

But as Kaushiki glanced around, her triumph turned into confusion and realization hit her like a sharp knife, she had unknowingly wandered into the outskirts of the forest.

But she refused to let her fear creep in "It's not the deep forest" she muttered to herself, brushing away the unease. "No lion is going to make me his dinner or anything. Hah! Silly thoughts." She scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder with confidence.

But as if the gods themselves had been waiting for the perfect moment to serve her a slice of karmic pie, a deafening roar echoed through the trees and she froze on the spot, her pulse quickening as an icy chill ran down her spine. Gulping hard, she craned her neck to look up at the sky, her lips trembling.

"It wasn't a challenge, Bholenath!" she whispered, her voice trembling but still managing a dramatic flair. "I was joking, alright? Joking! You've got to stop taking everything so seriously. Now that you've put me in danger, it's your divine duty to come and save me." She threw her hands toward the heavens, her tone a mix of pleading and indignation "I'm just a human, not a snack!"

Slowly she began to walk ahead carefully, each movement painfully measured, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to run, but she knew, knew with terrifying certainty that one wrong move could seal her fate.

Then, the roar came again.

Louder and closer.

It felt like a force, shaking the very ground beneath her feet, echoing through the trees like a death knell. It felt as if the beast was perched right on her head, breathing down her neck, waiting for her to make a mistake.

Kaushiki's knees wobbled, her fingers clenched into fists to keep them from trembling, but she could feel the sting of tears burning her eyes.

No, she couldn't cry. Not now. Not when her life is dangling by a fragile thread of fate.

"Why are these divine messengers not active now? Oh Lord, please save me!" She whispered, her voice trembling on the edge of desperation and exasperation, a fragile plea swallowed by the emptiness around her.

Just then, she heard a rustle behind a bush. The silence that followed was deafening, her heartbeat thundering in her ears like a war drum. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head toward the sound, dread coiling in her chest, her pulse a frantic, caged thing. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, but her limbs betrayed her, frozen in sheer terror.

And there it