The Last Bloom of Spring

The tense atmosphere in the great hall seemed almost tangible as the disciple knelt before the Sect Master and the founder, his voice trembling. "All the royals have reported strong objections to our attack against the Ninth Prince," he said, fear evident in his words.

A ripple of unease passed through the hall. The Hall Masters exchanged cautious glances, their usually composed faces now marked with worry. The founder of the sect, the enigmatic girl who rarely showed her emotions, simply smiled and nodded, as though expecting the news.

But her expression changed as she fixed her sharp gaze on the disciple. "Is there something more?"

The disciple hesitated, his lips quivering. "The royal protectors... they're going on full mobilization."

The Sect Master shot to her feet, her aura flaring. "What?" she roared, her voice reverberating through the chamber. "How dare they!"

But the disciple wasn't finished. Panic edged his voice as he continued. "It's the Ahoms. They've struck all our eastern bases and captured them. They claim it's a punishment for the injustices committed by the sect."

The hall fell silent. Even the Sect Master, known for her fiery temperament, froze in place. The Ahom Kingdom had long been a royal protector, but they were not the strongest of the Seven. For over a century, they had remained neutral, their actions subdued. Even when the sect's activities had occasionally spilled into their territory, the Ahoms had taken no action.

The Sect Master's eyes narrowed. "Why now?" she asked, her voice filled with restrained fury and confusion.

The disciple hesitated, his voice barely a whisper. "It was Princess Rooprekha who led the attack."

The name hit the room like a thunderclap. The Hall Masters began murmuring among themselves, the tension in the room thickening.

The Hall Master of the Heaven Sanctum stepped forward, her expression grim. "Princess Rooprekha is not acting alone," she said. "This is connected to Vikram, the Ninth Zamorin Prince."

The Sect Master clenched her fists, struggling to process the revelation. "Her fiancé?"

The Hall Master nodded. "Yes. She is his other fiancée."

The room fell into an even deeper silence. The founder, who had been listening quietly, closed her eyes, as if piecing together a puzzle only she could see. Finally, she opened them, her gaze cold and resolute.

"The bell of heaven," she said softly, yet her words carried an unspoken command.

The Hall Masters straightened in shock. The Bell of Heaven was a sacred relic, rung only in times of great peril to summon the master of the sect master and her founder and his most powerful disciples. Its ringing was a declaration that the sect was in grave danger.

"Let the master come with his disciples," the founder continued. "We cannot afford to take risks now. The sect's very survival is at stake."

The Sect Master, though reluctant, nodded. "And what of the Ahoms?"

The founder's gaze turned steely. "Send someone to sue for peace," she said firmly. "We cannot fight them—not now."

"But—" the Sect Master began, her voice rising in protest.

"Enough!" the founder interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "We do not act out of pride. We act to protect what we have built. Mobilize our forces, yes, but do not escalate this conflict further. Not until we know more about why this is happening and who is truly behind it."

The Sect Master exhaled sharply, frustration etched across her face. "Very well," she said finally. "But if this is a trap..."

The founder's lips curled into a faint smile, though her eyes remained hard. "If it is a trap, we will spring it on our terms."

As the disciples scattered to carry out their orders and the Hall Masters prepared for the worst, the Bell of Heaven's first toll echoed across the sect grounds. Its deep, resonant sound sent a chill through everyone who heard it, a somber reminder that the days of reckoning were upon them.

The founder stood at the center of the hall, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "Rooprekha, Vikram... what are you planning?" she murmured, her mind already racing to prepare for the storm that was surely coming.