THRONE
A Long-Form Indian Fantasy Story by Ayush Agarwal
PROLOGUE
The Throne in the Sky
Long before kingdoms carved their names onto the map of Bharatavarsha, before
temples rose like poems in stone, and before kings claimed the earth as their
dominion, there existed a legend older than human memory—
The legend of the
Akasha Simhasana, the Throne of the Sky.
It floated upon an island suspended in the heavens, drifting above the
mountains as though held by unseen hands.
The sages said the throne was carved by
Devas, its golden frame embedded with cosmic symbols, its cushion woven from
celestial silk that shifted colors with the changing winds.
Only one soul in an age could sit upon it.
Only one who had the heart of a king—and the humility of a servant.
But for centuries, the throne remained silent.
Waiting.
Watching.
Listening to the heartbeat of the world below.
Until destiny chose a boy named Aarav.
CHAPTER I
The Prince Who Spoke to the Wind
The kingdom of Vishudhapur lay cradled between the Vindhya Mountains, a prosperous land under King Devdutt’s rule. The palace, built of red sandstone and white marble, stood like a fortress of pride. Yet within its grand walls, a quiet mystery unfolded around the young prince.
Aarav was barely seven when the strangeness began.
The First Sign
One evening, as monsoon winds lashed against the palace courtyards, the king found Aarav sitting alone on the terrace.
The storm spiraled above, furious and unrestrained—
Yet directly above the boy, the sky was calm.
The wind seemed to circle him protectively, like a guardian spirit.
When asked, Aarav simply said:
“They were talking too loudly. I asked them to be quiet.”
No one understood what he meant.
Not the king.
Not the queen.
Not even the royal priests.
But the wind listened to him.
The Whispering Breeze
As the years passed, more signs emerged:
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When Aarav cried, the breeze turned cold and mournful.
-
When he laughed, flowers trembled as if swaying in joy.
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When he walked through the palace, lamps flared brighter for a moment.
-
Birds circled over him in spirals, as if acknowledging their airborne kin.
Word spread that Aarav was touched by Vayu Deva himself.
Some called him blessed.
Others called him dangerous.
And the king—torn between love and fear—kept his son hidden from the world.
CHAPTER II
The Curse That Devoured a Kingdom
On Aarav’s eighteenth birthday, Vishudhapur woke to a nightmare.
The sacred river Gandhini shrank overnight, revealing cracked
mud where water should have flowed.
The farmers cried out as their fields dried, crops curled, and the air turned
heavy with a strange restlessness.
Within a week:
-
wells emptied,
-
animals grew sick,
-
leaves turned to powder,
-
And a strange darkness veiled the sky at noon.
The priests conducted havans.
The people offered lamps at temples.
The king prayed to every deity he had ever known.
Nothing worked.
Finally, the palace summoned Rishi Anantya, a hermit whose age no one remembered and whose eyes gleamed with the knowledge of worlds beyond sight.
The moment he entered the court, a gust of wind circled him—acknowledging him.
The king bowed.
“Tell us, Rishi, what curse has fallen upon my land?”
The sage looked at Aarav.
“Your kingdom is not cursed, Maharaj.
It is being called.
The Akasha Simhasana has awakened.”
Gasps filled the court.
Stories of the floating throne were considered myths—fantasies told to
children.
Rishi Anantya continued:
“The throne seeks the one who can command the winds.
The one born once in an age.”
He raised his finger toward the prince.
“Your son.”
CHAPTER III
The Journey to the Skies
Aarav had always felt an invisible pull toward mountains, toward open skies,
toward thunder.
Now the call roared within his chest like a storm.
Guided by Rishi Anantya, the prince set out on a pilgrimage unlike any taken by rulers before.
The Forest of Echoing Whispers
Their path first led through the dense forests of Kanakavana, where sunlight rarely touched the ground. Strange chants echoed through the trees—ancient spells leftover from forgotten clans.
One night, Aarav heard the whisper again.
Aarav… Come…
Leaves rustled though there was no wind.
The forest itself was urging him forward.
The Valley of Silent Bones
Beyond the forest lay a valley littered with white, gleaming bones—the remains
of kings who sought the throne and failed its tests.
Aarav walked with trembling resolve, aware of the weight of destiny on his
shoulders.
The sage warned:
“The throne does not kill.
Fear does.
Courage is its first key.”
CHAPTER IV
The Floating Island Appears
On the seventh dawn, they reached the Peak of Echoes, a summit where even the air felt thin and ancient.
Aarav looked up.
The sky split open like a curtain of light.
From within descended a massive floating island, covered with lush green grass and stone cliffs that shimmered like molten gold in sunlight. It hovered effortlessly, its shadow blanketing the mountain.
On top of it sat the throne.
Not just golden—
but alive.
Radiant.
Breathing with cosmic energy.
Aarav’s heart pounded.
Every breeze in the world felt as if it were moving toward him.
Then the guardian appeared.
CHAPTER V
The Trial of the Celestial Lion
A roar shook the heavens.
From the edge of the floating island emerged a colossal lion—but one made of swirling winds and brilliant light. Its mane spun like a cyclone, its eyes glowing like twin suns.
The beast leapt from the island and landed before Aarav, shaking the mountain.
Most would have run.
But Aarav stepped forward.
The lion circled him.
Winds lashed at him.
His feet lifted from the ground.
Fear clawed at his chest—
But he remembered the words of the sage:
“The throne does not seek power.
It seeks surrender.”
Aarav closed his eyes…
and bowed.
The wind stilled.
The lion lowered its head.
The island began to descend toward Aarav.
He had passed the test.
CHAPTER VI
The Throne Accepts Its King
As Aarav climbed the floating island, he felt lighter with every step.
The air hummed.
The grass glowed.
His heartbeat synchronized with the winds swirling around him.
He reached the throne.
It was more magnificent than he had ever imagined—
Every carve, every symbol radiated ancient wisdom.
When he placed his hand upon its armrest…
The world exploded in light.
A pulse of golden energy burst outward from the throne, racing across the skies.
Below, rivers refilled instantly.
Fields turned green.
Rains fell like blessings.
Animals danced.
Children laughed.
And the darkness that had gripped Vishudhapur dissolved into pure dawn.
Aarav sat upon the throne.
The winds knelt.
And the floating island rose—higher, higher—until it became a drifting guardian in the heavens.
EPILOGUE
The King of the Skies
From that day, Aarav was no longer just a prince.
He became Akashadhiraj—the King of the Skies.
Legends say that on certain evenings, when the sun sets in shades of saffron and gold, one may spot a floating island drifting silently above the clouds.
Sometimes, if you look closely, you will see a golden throne glowing like a slice of the sun.
And upon it, a king whose kingdom is the sky itself.
“When the world closes its doors,
look up. The sky has never stopped opening.”
— Ayush Agarwal
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