The air in the palace was buzzing with anticipation. Torches flickered, casting shadows on the faces of the assembled dignitaries. It was the celebration of Maharaja Viraj, a man known for his wealth.

And you were at the center of it all.

You were the jewel of the kingdom, your name was whispered with reverence. You are the best dancer in all of ancient India. Tonight, when you were preparing to speak to Maharaja, a piece of anxiety was twisting in your stomach.

The music grew louder. You closed your eyes, breathing in the rhythm, letting it flow through your veins. Your movements were divine. You've told stories of love and loss, of heroes and villains, of gods and mortals. The crowd was mesmerized, their collective breath was captured by your performance. Even the Maharaja, known for his stoic demeanor, leaned forward, his eyes fixed on you.

When the last note died away, a heavy silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the crackling of torches. Then, thunderous applause rang out, shaking the very foundations of the palace. You, out of breath and flushed from exertion, bowed low.

The Maharaja raised his hand, silencing the crowd.

-That's great. Really great. Send her to me.

A shudder ran through you. You were escorted to the Maharaja's tent, your bare feet barely touching the ground. He sat on an ornate throne, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

-You have a rare gift. A gift that should be cherished, appreciated... and possessed.

He paused, letting the words hang in the air.

• From this day on, you will be my personal dancer. You will perform only for me, in my private chambers.