The Room of Unfinished Fire

The mansion fell back into its familiar silence as Devanarayanan climbed the wide staircase, his leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the Italian marble steps. The golden chandeliers above cast a warm, polished glow, but no amount of light could chase the coldness in his eyes tonight.He'd silenced fools. Burned trails. Cleaned blood without flinching.But as he reached the east wing corridor, something caught him off guard.A door.Wooden. Heavy. Locked.

Dustless. Untouched.But hauntingly familiar.

His steps halted.His jaw tightened.And in that moment, for the first time today, the fire in his chest flickered.The brass nameplate still read:"Devanandan"That name alone was enough to trigger chaos inside him.

He stood still, staring at the locked door like it might suddenly open and drag him into another lifetime. The corridor was silent—but his mind? Loud. Violent. Rewinding years.

Seven years ago.Two boys. One storm. One silence.Devanarayanan and Devanandan were never ordinary brothers.They were two sides of a broken blade.One—fire and dominance.The other—mind and

mischief.One destroyed with action.The other ruined with silence.Their childhood was war dressed in brotherhood—fights that broke glass, schemes that broke bones, pranks that terrified guards. But amid all the bruises and curses, there was something terrifyingly powerful:Loyalty.They would die for each other.Or kill.And then, just like that, Devanandan was gone.Sent away to England, handpicked by Devendra Nathan himself—Because he said, "The younger one is too dangerous to be raised next to fire. Let him grow with silence instead."And now...He was coming back.In three days.To stay.To study.To live in this house.To be under this roof again.Deva's fist clenched as memories surged. The laughter, the betrayals, the way Devanandan used to look at him with those sharp, unreadable eyes that said "I know your weakness, hyung."He whispered under his breath, lips curling into a dangerous smile."Will you be the same, Nandan?"His knuckles brushed the door gently. Almost fondly. Almost threateningly.

"Or have you forgotten how we loved and hated each other in the same breath?"He stepped back. Looked at the locked room once more. And then turned.As he walked away, the flames in his eyes had shifted—

From rage…To anticipation.Three days.

And a storm that had once gone quiet...

...would rise again.In another corner of the world, in a private airport lounge in London, a tall, sharply dressed 19 old boy closed his book, slid on his sunglasses, and smiled to himself.A men leaned in. "Sir, your jet is ready for departure to Chennai."He stood up, eyes unreadable.Devanandan Devendra—The Silent Serpent."Good," he said calmly. "Let's go home."