The storm came without mercy.

Rain crashed against the windshield like shards of glass, blurring the world into streaks of silver and black. The mountain road twisted dangerously, swallowed by fog so thick it felt alive.

Inside the car, warmth tried to survive the chaos.

A woman’s soft laughter.
A man’s reassuring hand on the steering wheel.
And in the backseat — a little girl clutching a worn-out plush rabbit, fast asleep, unaware that her world was about to break.

Thunder exploded across the sky.

The tyres skidded.

The headlights flickered.

And fate took a sharp turn.

The sound of the crash was not loud.

It was… final.

Metal screamed as the car spun. Glass shattered like stars exploding into the night. The vehicle slammed against the guardrail, then twisted violently as it hit the rocky slope.

Inside, time fractured.

The child woke with a scream stuck in her throat.

Her small fingers tightened around the seatbelt.

Her eyes — wide, confused, terrified — searched for her mother.

“Ma…”

But the word never came out.

The impact threw her forward.

Something warm touched her forehead.

Blood.

Rain.

Chaos.

Somewhere in the forest beyond the broken barrier…

branches cracked.

Leaves rustled.

Tiny footsteps ran blindly through the storm.

A small body fell over sharp stones.

A soft toy dropped into the mud.

But the child did not stop.

Fear dragged her feet forward.

Shock stole her voice.

And darkness swallowed her.

By morning…

The rain stopped.

Rescue teams arrived.

Red and blue lights flashed through the mist.

Doors were forced open.

Stretchers were pulled out.

Two bodies were found.

Two breaths barely beating.

Two lives clinging to broken hope.

But the backseat was empty.

No child.

No heartbeat.

No trace.

Only…

a small, blood-stained rabbit.

At a palace miles away, a temple bell rang.

A diya flickered.

A mother’s heart was shattered.

A father fell to his knees.

Brothers searched the corridors in silence.

And in the oldest wing of the palace, an ancient prayer was whispered:

“Bring our daughter home.”

But destiny had already written something else.

The child didn’t die in the storm.

She didn’t disappear.

She was being carried toward a life that would harden her, shape her, and crown her.

She was lost…

So she could rise.

That night, a royal family lost their daughter.

And the world unknowingly gained its future queen.