⚠️ Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction.

All characters, events, places, and incidents in this story are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This story contains dark and intense themes, including obsession, possessiveness, emotional conflict, and psychological elements that may not be suitable for all readers.

The male lead’s behavior is fictional and not intended to be idealized or encouraged in real life.

Reader discretion is advised.

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🖤 Author’s Note

This is not a soft love story.

This is a story of madness, obsession, pain… and a love that refuses to die—even across lifetimes.

If you are here for green flags— this is not your place.

But if you crave intensity…

Welcome to Ardhangi... You Are the Madness of My Dark Soul

(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

Note:- ❄️❄️ cold tone * * Actions (TRASLATION : ) "..." Taking in his mind 💢💢 anger tone

♥️ . . ♥️

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿: 1646 𝗔.𝗗.

𝗔𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗱𝘂 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗱𝗼𝗺

𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗶 𝗣𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲

The year 1542 A.D. would forever be remembered as the night the kingdom drowned in blood.

The palace gates had already fallen.

Enemy soldiers stormed inside like a raging flood—torches blazing, swords clashing, screams tearing through the royal corridors. The marble floors that once echoed with music and laughter now echoed only with death.

Flames climbed the golden pillars.

Smoke curled through the sacred halls.

The scent of ash and iron filled the air.

At the center of the chaos stood

𝙈𝙖𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙟𝙖 𝙈𝙖𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙖 𝘿𝙚𝙫𝙖

His sword moved like lightning—swift and merciless.

One soldier fell.

Then another.

Blood splashed across his royal armor as enemy bodies collapsed around him.

His eyes burned with rage and duty.

Mahendravarma Deva roared,

Suddenly—

A voice.

Weak.

Shaking.

Almost lost in the noise of war.

Mahendravarma froze.

His heart stopped.

That voice.

Only one person in this world called him that.

Slowly, he turned.

Behind him, near the shattered palace pillars, stood a woman.

A queen draped in a light ivory saree.

Now torn.

Now soaked with blood. Heavy royal jewellery hung around her neck.

One step.

Then another.

Her legs gave way.

Blood spread across his chest.

His hands trembled.

For the first time in his life—

He gently held her face.

His voice shook.

The cloth there was soaked in blood.

Blood was slowly dripping onto the palace floor.

They were filled with tears.

But there was no anger in them.

No hatred.

Only deep sadness.

A small, tired smile appeared on her lips.

Her breathing was fading.

A painful pause.

Her breath became weaker.

Her voice almost disappeared.

Her final whisper escaped her lips.

For a moment—

The world stopped.

Mahendravarma froze.

Then suddenly—

His scream shattered the burning palace.

He hugged her lifeless body tightly against him, rocking back and forth as tears streamed down his face.

The war around him faded into silence.

His gaze hardened. Possessive. Unbreakable.

The palace burned.

The Aravidu Kingdom survived.

The throne survived.

The crown survived.

But the man beneath it—

Maharaja Mahendravarma Deva

Died with her.

And the entire kingdom mourned their king…

…and his Ardhangi.

Note:- ❄️❄️ cold tone * * Actions (TRASLATION : ) "..." Taking in his mind 💢💢 anger tone

♥️ . . ♥️

𝗔𝗿𝗱𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶 ...... 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹 - Express Writer

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♡⋆ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 ⋆♡

𝗠𝗟 :- 𝗠𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗮 𝗗𝗲𝘃𝗮 They say power changes with time. Kings lost their crowns. Thrones turned into boardrooms. But some men are born to rule— no matter the era. 𝗠𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗮 𝗗𝗲𝘃𝗮 is one of them. At just twenty-seven, he is known as the richest man in India. The media calls him a business prodigy. The market calls him a storm. As the Chairman and Managing Director of Deva Automotive Group, he controls one of the country’s largest automobile manufacturing and distribution empires. Share prices rise when he speaks. Deals collapse when he refuses. Executives fall silent the moment he enters a room. Yet the man who owns everything sleeps like someone who has lost something priceless. Every night, the same dream returns. A burning palace. An ivory saree soaked in blood. A woman’s trembling voice. “𝗔𝗿𝗱𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶…” The name escapes his lips before consciousness reaches him. He does not know her face. He does not know her story. But his soul remembers her pain. Born into the legendary Deva family, he was named after the greatest king in Deva history— and unknowingly, he is paying the price for that name. They say money can buy anything. They are wrong. Because if it could… Mahendravarma Deva would have bought sleep.

𝗙𝗟 :- 𝗔𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝗥𝗮𝗼 And then— 𝗔𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝗥𝗮𝗼 is Just twenty years old. A first-year student at Vikram College of Law in Swarnapuram State. Naughty. Cute. Lazy. A walking bundle of mischief. She took life lightly. The future lightly. And rules—not at all. Serious discussions bored her. Long plans annoyed her. Responsibilities? She’d think about them tomorrow. She loved playing pranks on everyone— especially her sister. A lover of dark romance novels and a die-hard K-drama fan. She escaped household chores expertly and believed naps were far more important than career planning. Yet— She loved fiercely. Her mother. Her sister. But her father? He was her favorite human on earth.