"They said no bride ever crossed her first anniversary in Sheesh Mahal and Mrinalini was to be the next."
The rain had a way of swallowing sound in Amer Fort. It slicked the red sandstone walls till they gleamed like blood under torchlight. The strange shadows dance in the glassy panels of Sheesh Mahal and every mirror caught the light differently. Like a.... Cruse.
Every bride who entered the Sheesh Mahal bridal chamber never lived to see her first anniversary. No signs of struggle. No scream. Just gone. Vanished into glass and silence. The first to disappear was the Maharaja's younger brother's wife years ago. Her jewelry was found scattered on the bed as if she'd taken it off willingly. The second bride's anklets were discovered in the corridor, still warm, though no one had seen her leave. The third bride's bridal dupatta was found in the courtyard. It hadn't rained that night, yet the fabric was soaking wet. And just like that every other bride disappeared mysteriously.
Ghost? No. Ghosts have mercy. This is something else.
The mirrors. They say the mirrors are cursed. That if you stood too close on a moonless night, you'd see something looking back at you, not your reflection, but another version of you. One that could move faster than you. One that could... reach.
Yet, even after going through this pattern, royal brides have been married off to this family. Why? Because, tradition is stronger than fear. And this family doesn't believe in running from its past... even if that past swallows their queens whole.
And whenever a person talks about the curse of Sheesh Mahal somewhere inside, a mirror fogs.
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CHAPTER 1? COMING SOON.
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