The battle drums of Angkor echoed through the humid jungle, a steady beat that heralded the court’s assembly in the warm twilight. Shadows danced across the sprawling sandstone walls of the Angkorian temple complex, their carvings of celestial beings and mythical serpents illuminated by flickering torches. A silence reverberated through the air, broken only by the rustle of palms as a solitary figure emerged from the depths of the forest.
Savitra stepped into the torchlight, her presence an ethereal mix of grace and defiance. Her honeyed skin shimmered with a golden sheen in the dying light, a testament to countless days spent under the beating sun. Her lithe and athletic figure was adorned in garments befitting the grandeur of her station: a masterpiece of woven gold and dark indigo. Her lamé sarong clung to her hips, the fabric embroidered with intricate lotus motifs. The top, a sleeveless garment with a high collar that split into a plunging neckline, revealed a delicate, gilded chain tracing the curve of her collarbone and cascading to her bare midriff. Bangles of dark metal and flecks of amber decorated her arms, and her hair—jet black and flowing in cascading locks—was bound with a single orchid, a purposeful splash of nature amidst the decadence. But it was her eyes, deep blue like the still pools of a midnight lotus, that captured the hearts of all who met her, offering a mixture of serenity and fierce resolve.
The royal court of Angkor gathered near the steps of the temple, an array of nobles adorned in extravagances no less decadent than their surroundings. Today, the golden city debated the fate of its rightful heir. Savitra, the exiled princess, dared return to challenge Regent Dharmanesh—a cruel usurper who had plunged the empire into chaos as he clawed for control after the untimely death of the king.
“Why do you show your face here, exile?” spat Dharmanesh, his voice brimming with disdain as he descended the stone steps wrapped in a cloak of black-dyed silk, encrusted with gleaming rubies meant to flaunt his ill-gotten wealth. His broad form was a stark contrast to Savitra’s slender elegance, yet it was her who held the crowd enraptured.
“Because truth does not hide in the shadows as you do,” she replied coolly, her voice steady but carrying the weight of restrained fury. “I invoke the rite of Aharya—a trial of wit and skill under the watchful gaze of the gods. Let the divinities decide Angkor’s fate.”
Murmurs spread through the crowd, the invocation of such a sacred rite leaving no room for Dharmanesh to brush her aside without appearing a coward. The regent’s lips curled into a sneer. “Then prepare yourself, child. The gods are fickle and play favorites. You may soon wish you had stayed in the jungle.”
The trial pit lay beneath the temple’s central spire, ringed with intricate carvings of celestial Apsaras dancing among flames. It was here that two champions would face a contest devised by the high priests, a competition that required equal parts cunning, bravery, and will. Savitra and Dharmanesh entered the pit, armed only with their wits and ceremonial blades.
A gong reverberated through the chamber as their first challenge was announced. “Find the living flame,” intoned the high priest, his voice echoing with divine authority. “It is a flame that burns brighter than gold but cannot be held.” Fire holders ignited around the arena, casting warped silhouettes on the walls. At first, it seemed an impossible riddle, but Savitra tilted her head, observing the dances of the flames. She waited, her gaze focused like a hawk.
Dharmanesh lunged for one of the fire-holders, trying to grab the flickering fire with his blade—it extinguished instantly. The crowd gasped. Savitra, in contrast, kept still. As her opponent roared in frustration, she moved swiftly to a nearby recess where sunlight pierced through a narrow crack in the stone. She bowed respectfully beneath this natural beam of light. Embers spiraled around her gold-clad form as the high priest whispered, “The princess has answered. The sun, indeed, is the living flame.”
The crowds erupted in cheers as Dharmanesh muttered curses beneath his breath. This was not the end of their trial, but the beginning.
As challenge after challenge unraveled, it became clear that Savitra’s steely wit outmatched Dharmanesh’s bluster. The final trial, however, cast doubt upon every ally she thought she could trust. A dark twist awaited her: a choice between recovering the empire’s sacred jewel or saving the life of her loyal companion, Kalin—a warrior sworn to serve her family for generations, now captured and dangling perilously above a pit of vipers.
Under the watchful eyes of the court, Savitra hesitated, her heart wrenched in two directions. The jewel represented the sanctity of her family’s rule, while Kalin had literally bled to pave her path back to Angkor. The crowd jeered, sensing weakness in her silence.
“No throne is worth the loss of a friend,” she finally announced, sheathing her ceremonial blade as she leapt to cut Kalin’s binds. She caught him with feline grace before his body could plummet into the serpents’ den. The spectacle sent a shockwave through the onlookers, and even Dharmanesh faltered. The sacred jewel could wait, but this display of genuine loyalty intertwined with courage cemented her claim in the eyes of her people.
That night, the crackling of celebratory fires echoed across Angkor as Dharmanesh’s forces surrendered at last. Savitra stood before her people adorned now in the regalia of her ancestors: a phoenix diadem of scintillating amber set against her dark hair, an ornate breastplate of gold and lapis layers cascading over her shoulders. Yet her expressions spoke not of victory, but determination.
As she gazed across the fire-lit sea of her citizens, one hand rested on Kalin’s shoulder. “Angkor does not need tyrants nor martyrs,” she declared. “It needs harmony. Together, we will restore what was broken.” The crowd erupted in a chant of her name as her ascension marked not just a turning of power, but the first rays of a new dawn.
And so, with the gilded flame of Angkor illuminating her every step, Savitra began a reign that would be sung of for centuries.
Genre: Historical Fiction
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Gold Bikini: Radiant Bohemian-Inspired Swimwear with Halter Top, High-Waisted Bottoms, and Sun-Kissed Glam Style
Disclaimer: This article may contain affiliate links. If you click on these links and make a purchase, we may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. Our recommendations and reviews are always independent and objective, aiming to provide you with the best information and resources.
Get Exclusive Stories, Photos, Art & Offers - Subscribe Today!
3 comments