Irrfan Khan Chandrakanta !link! Info
“I chose,” he whispered, holding her. “Not power. Not the kingdom. Just you.”
King Veerendra Singh of Vijaygarh did not believe in magic. He believed in grain silos, treaty papers, and the sharp edge of a well-made sword. He had inherited a kingdom riven by the tantric wars of his father’s time—a chaos of aainas (mirrors), tilism (illusions), and power-hungry jaadugars (sorcerers). His solution had been brutal and simple: exile all sorcerers, seal the underground labyrinth of the tilism , and rule by reason. irrfan khan chandrakanta
She hugged him tighter. “And the magic?” “I chose,” he whispered, holding her
His daughter, Chandrakanta, was his only rebellion. She was not a warrior princess; she was a quiet, observant girl who spent hours in the closed-off library, reading faded scrolls about the very magic he had banned. She had her mother’s eyes—her mother, the witch-queen he had loved and lost to a tantric curse, a loss he never spoke of. Just you
