Love Amid the Ruins

Chapter 1 — The Palace of Dreams

It was exactly three o’clock in the morning.

Almost all the lights in the city had gone out. Silence had settled over the streets, while the moonlight entering through the window of Aman’s room formed a long white streak across the floor. The ticking of the clock seemed to make the silence even deeper. Twenty-one-year-old Aman was fast asleep in his bed, but the restlessness on his face was unmistakable.

Suddenly, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

His fingers tightened around the bedsheet.

And then, the same dream began again.

Aman found himself standing before a massive mountain. Through the thick mist spread across the distance, a magnificent palace appeared. It was so enormous that its towering spires seemed to touch the clouds. Golden patterns were carved into its white marble walls. On either side of the palace's main entrance stood gigantic stone elephants, their eyes decorated with red gemstones.

There was no one around the palace.

No soldiers.

No servants.

No sound.

Only the wind, brushing against the branches of the dry trees and producing a strange, mournful whisper.

Every time, Aman found himself standing at exactly the same place, staring at the palace.

He did not know how he got there.

He did not know who the palace belonged to.

But there was one thing he always knew.

Someone was waiting for him.

On a window of the palace's highest floor, a girl appeared every night.

She wore a white dress. Her long black hair floated in the wind, and her face looked even brighter than the moonlight. There was such deep sadness in her eyes that Aman could feel a strange heaviness in his heart just by looking at her.

Every night, the girl said something.

But her voice never reached Aman.

He could only see her lips moving.

Tonight, she was standing at the window again.

She looked directly at Aman.

For a few moments, they simply stared at each other.

Then suddenly, the girl extended her hand toward him.

Aman's heart began pounding.

He slowly started walking toward the palace.

One step.

Then another.

As he moved closer to the palace, he began to hear a faint voice in his ears.

“Aman…”

He stopped.

The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away.

“Aman…”

This time, the voice was clearer.

Aman nervously looked around.

“Who are you?”

Suddenly, tears began flowing from the girl's eyes.

She said something again.

This time, Aman heard only two words—

“Come back…”

Aman's heart seemed to stop.

“Come back where?”

he shouted.

“I don't even know you!”

The girl slowly lowered her head.

Then a deeply sorrowful smile appeared on her lips.

“You have forgotten…”

Aman's eyes widened.

“Forgotten what?”

Suddenly, a scream came from inside the palace.

The girl turned around in fear.

Terror appeared on her face.

Then she looked back at Aman and screamed—

“Run!”

At that exact moment, the enormous palace doors opened on their own.

Complete darkness lay beyond them.

And from within that darkness came the sound of a sword being dragged across the floor.

Aman stepped back.

But suddenly, someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around.

A blood-covered warrior stood before him.

An arrow was embedded in his chest.

His face looked exactly like Aman's.

The warrior pointed toward the palace with a trembling hand and said—

“Save her…”

“Who?”

Aman screamed.

But at that very moment, lightning flashed across the sky.

The palace was suddenly engulfed in flames.

The princess's scream echoed throughout the surroundings—

“Virendra!”

Aman was terrified.

And in the very next moment, he woke up.

Aman suddenly sat upright in bed.

His breathing was rapid.

His entire body was drenched in sweat.

He looked around his room.

Everything was normal.

The same table.

The same books.

The same wall.

The same window.

The same clock.

It was five in the morning.

But the girl's scream was still echoing in his ears.

“Virendra…”

He ran a hand over his face.

“Who is she?”

For several months, he had been asking himself the same question.

At first, he thought it was nothing more than a strange dream.

But when the same dream appeared for three nights in a row, he began taking it seriously.

The same palace.

The same girl.

The same window.

The same voice.

And every time, the dream ended at the exact moment someone called him “Virendra.”

Aman had no idea who Virendra was.

He had even asked people in the history department at his college about the name, but no one knew anything about it.

He spent hours searching the internet for information about ancient kingdoms and historical palaces.

But he could not find a palace that looked anything like the one from his dreams.

So he began drawing the things he saw in his dreams in a diary.

First, he drew the palace's main entrance.

Then the stone elephants.

Then the towering spires.

Then the window.

And finally, the girl's face.

The strange thing was that Aman had never received any training in drawing.

Yet somehow, he could draw the girl's face with remarkable accuracy.

It was so accurate that sometimes even looking at the picture frightened him.

He closed the diary.

But then his eyes fell on his hand.

There was a small red mark on his palm.

He was startled.

“How did this get here?”

He examined his palm carefully.

The mark looked like an old wound.

And the strangest thing was—

The mark was exactly where the warrior in his dream had suffered a sword wound on his hand.

Aman stared at his palm for several moments.

Then he tried to convince himself.

“Maybe I hurt myself somewhere yesterday.”

But somewhere deep inside him, a voice was saying—

This was no coincidence.

Over the next few weeks, Aman's life began to change.

He was no longer as cheerful as before.

He sat in class, but his mind was never focused on his books.

Whenever his friends talked to him, he would suddenly drift away into his own thoughts.

Sometimes, without any reason, he would remember places he had never seen before.

One day, while looking through a book of paintings of ancient kings in the college library, his eyes fell upon a sword.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of galloping horses.

For a few moments, a battlefield appeared before his eyes.

Thousands of soldiers.

A dusty battlefield.

Fluttering flags.

The clash of swords.

And a girl screaming from the balcony of a palace—

“Virendra!”

Aman quickly shut the book.

His friend Karan, who was sitting nearby, asked—

“What happened?”

Aman looked up.

“Nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

But he wasn't okay.

That night, he wrote in his diary—

“For the first time, I feel as if I have lived in that palace before.”

A few seconds later, he wrote another sentence beneath it—

“And perhaps that girl knows me too.”

A few days later, an announcement was made at the college.

The history department was organizing a trip to an old village where students would study ancient architecture and the ruins of a centuries-old palace.

The moment the professor announced the name of the village, the pen slipped from Aman's hand.

It felt as if someone had struck him hard in the chest.

The name of the village was—

Devgarh.

He had never heard the name before.

And yet, for some unknown reason, a strange sense of familiarity awakened inside him.

That night, he had the dream again.

But this time, something was different.

He was inside the palace.

The same girl was standing before him.

For the first time, she came closer to Aman and touched his face.

Her fingers were cold as ice.

“You are coming…”

Aman asked—

“Where?”

The girl replied—

“Home.”

Fear appeared on Aman's face.

“This isn't my home.”

Tears filled the girl's eyes.

“You really don't remember?”

Aman remained silent.

Then the girl opened her hand.

Inside it was an old silver ring.

The same symbol was engraved on the ring as the mark on Aman's palm.

She placed the ring in his hand.

“When you recognize this… you will remember everything.”

Suddenly, a deep male voice came from behind them—

“Princess!”

The girl became frightened.

She looked at Aman.

“Come quickly…”

“But who are you?”

The girl replied—

“I am the one whose soul has been waiting for yours.”

Before Aman could ask anything else, the dream shattered.

He was sitting upright in his bed.

Something cold was resting in his palm.

Slowly, he opened his hand.

His heart began pounding.

A small silver ring was lying in his palm.

Exactly like the one he had seen in his dream.

The day of the college trip finally arrived.

The bus left the college early in the morning.

Students were singing songs.

Some were taking pictures.

Others were joking around.

But Aman sat silently by the window.

His fingers repeatedly touched the silver ring.

As the bus moved farther away from the city, his uneasiness grew stronger.

He felt as if something was pulling him toward it.

After nearly four hours, the bus reached a deserted rural area.

The professor announced—

“We have arrived in Devgarh.”

Aman's breath caught in his throat.

The bus stopped outside the village.

Old trees surrounded the area.

The air carried the scent of soil and wet grass.

Villagers stood at a distance, watching the students.

The professor began explaining the temple and the historical sites surrounding the village.

But Aman's attention was elsewhere.

His eyes were fixed on the forest.

Somewhere inside it, he could hear a girl crying.

Very softly.

Very far away.

But it was exactly the same voice he had heard in his dreams.

Aman suddenly separated from the group.

Karan called after him—

“Aman! Where are you going?”

Aman did not even turn around.

His feet seemed to be carrying him toward the forest on their own.

As he walked between the trees, he noticed an old stone.

Dust covered its surface.

But the moment Aman saw the symbol carved into it, he stopped.

The same symbol.

The exact same symbol that was on his palm.

With trembling fingers, he touched the stone.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head.

For a few moments, a vision appeared before him—

The same palace.

The same princess.

And himself…

Kneeling before her as a warrior.

“I will definitely return.”

His own voice echoed in his ears.

Aman opened his eyes with a start.

The forest had ended in front of him.

And behind the trees…

stood a massive ruin.

Aman's eyes widened.

His entire body seemed to turn to stone.

The palace…

The same entrance.

The same towers.

The same stone elephants.

The same window.

Everything was exactly the same.

With trembling hands, Aman pulled out his diary.

He held the drawing in it beside the palace.

Every single detail matched.

He could only whisper—

“This wasn't a dream…”

He slowly moved toward the palace.

The main entrance had been sealed for centuries.

But the moment Aman reached it, the door opened on its own.

Creeeeak…

A cold gust of wind rushed out from inside.

And with that wind came a soft whisper in his ears—

“Why did you take so long, Virendra?”

Aman's face turned pale.

Because this voice was not coming from a dream.

The voice was truly coming from the palace standing before him.

He slowly stepped inside.

The door slammed shut behind him.

BANG!

Aman turned around.

There was no one there.

But at the far end of the dark corridor stood a white silhouette.

Long black hair…

A white dress…

And those same eyes.

The princess.

She slowly lifted her face.

Tears filled Aman's eyes, although he himself could not understand why he was crying.

The princess extended her hand toward him.

And this time, her voice was perfectly clear—

“I knew it… one day, you would come back.”

Aman stood frozen in place.

He had no idea yet that the palace was not waiting only for the spirit of his lost love.

Buried within the walls of those ruins was a secret that would change everything—

his past life,

his death,

and the unfinished love story of the princess—

forever.