Royal Chambers, Mahishmati
Bhallaladeva stood at the shattered window of his war room, smoke curling into the sky like the breath of a dying beast. His fists trembled at his sides. Behind him, his most trusted general knelt with his head lowered.
"You let him take her," Bhallaladeva said coldly.
"My king, we—"
"Silence."
He turned slowly, his eyes burning with fury.
"He didn't just take a prisoner. He stole the very shadow of this throne. The people will see him as their savior now."
He gripped the hilt of his blade, his knuckles white.
"No more mercy. No more hesitation. Watch every border. Question every trader. Hunt down anything that breathes near the forest. I want them cornered like rats."
The general cleared his throat carefully. "And the Queen's child?"
Bhallaladeva smiled without warmth. "Find him. Bring him to me alive. She may have escaped, but the future still sleeps in my hand."The Rebel Encampment, Whispering Cliffs
The child laughed as Devasena gently braided his hair, her hands trembling with relief. Bahubali stood nearby, arms folded, his eyes on the distant ridges. Aravan sat a few steps away, his shoulder bound in clean bandages.
"He saw me," Aravan muttered. "Bhallaladeva. Just before we escaped. He knows it was me."
Bahubali's jaw tightened.
"Then we move before he does."
Tanthav the scribe approached with a scroll rolled tightly in one hand.
"There is word from Vardhana, my lord. They remember your kindness from long ago. Their riders are coming. Two moons from now."
Bahubali turned toward the wind. The cliffs roared around them.
"Two moons might be too late."
He stepped forward, facing the campfires below.
"I need to return. Not to fight. Not yet. But there are still people in Mahishmati who live in fear, waiting for hope. Servants, spies, the broken guard. I must speak with them."
Devasena stood slowly. Her voice was steady.
"You won't go alone."
"You must stay. With our son," Bahubali replied.
She reached for the chain around her neck and removed a simple ring. It was old, carved with the crest of her father's house.
"Take this. It will open doors buried by time. Especially beneath the palace."
Beneath the Throne of Mahishmati
That same night, in a hidden forge deep beneath the palace, torchlight flickered as a group of cloaked warriors waited in silence. Dust hung thick in the air. Old iron tools lined the walls. The sound of footsteps broke the stillness.
Bahubali entered.
The cloaked figures stirred. One whispered, "He lives." Another said, "He has returned."
Bahubali removed his cloak. His armor was darker now, refined and marked with forgotten emblems. He looked at each of them, warriors once loyal, now exiled and silent.
"I am not here to reclaim what was taken from me. I am here for those who still suffer. I am here for justice."
A tall woman stepped forward, her face lined with scars. "We are the Crownless. Give the word. We will rise."
Bahubali raised his sword.
"Then rise. Mahishmati is no longer a kingdom. It is a prison dressed in gold. But no prison holds forever."
Blades rang as they were drawn together in unity.
And above them, drums began to sound.
The rebellion had begun.