The Rakbedh Saga

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🚨 It’s finally here! 🚨

After months of writing, editing, and countless cups of coffee, Book 1 of The Rakbedh Saga is officially LIVE! ✨📖

If you’ve been waiting to dive into a world of demons, wolves, reincarnations, and destinies colliding—your journey begins today. 🐺🔥

Grab your copy, join the adventure, and let me know what you think—I’d love to hear your reviews and theories! 🙌

👉 https://a.co/d/9bb2SX2

Chapter 0: Vivaan's Recap of Book 1
INTRODUCTION

So... here we are. Book Two. And if you've picked this up without reading Book One, first of all—why? That's like showing up to someone's funeral and asking, "So... what'd he die of?" while reaching for the snacks.
But fine. Since the author clearly decided I, Vivaan, am the most responsible, charming, and devastatingly modest character around (pause for thunderous applause that's definitely coming any second now), it's my sacred—no, my cursed—duty to catch you up.
Buckle in, buttercups. This is gonna hurt.


THE RAGHAVENDRA CHRONICLES: A MASTERCLASS IN DIVINE DYSFUNCTION

Let's rewind to our beloved protagonist: Raghavendra Rakbedh—prince, Shiva's number-one devotee, and holder of the world record for "Most Horrible Ways to Die."
This guy gets his head chopped clean off in the first line by the antagonist Sasht (AKA Pisasht). Yup. Clean decapitation, opening scene.
But does he stay dead like a normal person? Oh, hell no. He's reincarnated about six times too many, like some cosmic yo-yo that refuses to stay down. Thinks he's on a divine mission, but mostly just collects trauma like my aunt collects ceramic cats—obsessively and with zero self-awareness.
He's got this whole half-angel, half-demon vibe going on, which would be cool if it didn't also mean every cosmic horror in existence wants to use him as a chew toy.
Now, most people, when they die, go to heaven, hell, or maybe get reincarnated as a cockroach if they were really unlucky in life. But not this guy. Nope. He wakes up in what I can only describe as the cosmic expanse—you know, that soul-crushingly white waiting room where time moves slower than my dad reading the newspaper.
He can only reincarnate every thousand year. A thousand. Year. What does this waiting room look like? Picture all white lights, echo-y space, the kind of place where you'd expect to hear elevator music on eternal loop while someone's nasally voice announces, "Now serving soul number 47,382,951..."
And who's there to greet him? Not Shiva. Not Yama (god of death). Not even some judgmental angel with a clipboard and an attitude problem. Nope. He meets Ra—a floating, glowing orb slash divine AI slash cosmic life coach with zero patience for his nonsense.
Imagine Alexa, but instead of reminding you about groceries, she's like: "So, you've died six times already. Care to explain this spectacular streak of failure?"
Raghav, with all the self-awareness of a brick: "Listen, I know I've been messing up. I keep dying, failing, and letting rage control me. But hey... seventh time's the charm?"
And Ra's like: "Bro, this is your LAST chance. Seven lives is all you get. No more retries, no more reincarnations after this. Next time you screw up, it's delete account permanently."
At this point, I—Vivaan—would have begged for extra lives, maybe a divine cheat code, hell, I'd have offered to do Ra's cosmic laundry for eternity. But Raghav? Nah. This absolute madman goes: "Erase my memories. Wipe it all out. I'll start fresh, take all my powers and keep it at the end of the dangerous dungeon which killed me the last time I visited, it’s a safe place."
Yes, he basically asked for a divine factory reset. The audacity. The sheer, unhinged audacity.
Classic Raghav. About as smart as a bag of rocks, twice as stubborn.
And boom—the saga begins again, because apparently the universe has a sick sense of humour.
His reincarnations are basically: search, fight, die, reincarnate, repeat. It's like the world's worst video game, and he's stuck on level one.
And me? I'm not even in the picture yet, which is honestly a blessing, because this man literally starts every story by losing his head or holes in his body from ancient stones. Literally.


THE ORIGIN STORY (OR: HOW TO TRAUMATIZE A PRINCE IN 10 EASY STEPS)

Alright, let's go way back—like, 6,800 years ago. Yeah, this is one of those sagas where the timeline's so confusing you'll want a whiteboard, three different coloured markers, and possibly a degree in theoretical physics.
Time to unpack how Raghavendra Rakbedh went from "sensitive prince with royalty issues" to "Shiva's chosen demigod wolf-warrior with severe obsession." Spoiler alert: it's tragic, dramatic, and yes—there's interpretive dancing involved. Of course there is.
So, Raghavendra grew up in Shivodaya (what we now call Bangalore—yes, even 6,800 years ago, this place was chaotic), as the family disappointment. While his brothers were busy flexing their royal egos and practicing their "I'm better than you" sp*eches, Raghav was out there feeding villagers and praying to Shiva like his life depended on it.

Quick cast intro for the royal dysfunction:

Dad (The King): Strict, perpetually grumpy, radiating "Why can't my son be normal?" energy like a human stress ball.
Mom: Supportive but helpless, basically a medieval version of "I love you, honey, but your father..."
The Brothers: Jealous brats who probably practiced evil laughs in front of mirrors and plotted Raghav's downfall during family dinners.

Every conversation went like this:
King Dad: "Stop wasting time on peasants! You're a prince! Rule kingdoms! Crush your enemies! Make me proud!"
Raghav: "Sorry, Dad, can't hear you over the sound of Shiva’s calling."
King Dad: (visible eye twitch)
And then—get this—Raghav doesn't just sneak out like a normal rebellious teenager. No. This dramatic disaster writes a goodbye letter like he's the protagonist of some tragic romance novel.
"Dear Family, I'm leaving to find God. Don't wait up. Try not to miss me too much. Love, Raghavendra."
(Okay, I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea.)
He ditches the palace, hops on his horse Pavan, and let me tell you—this horse deserves a medal, a pension, and probably therapy. Loyal, strong, patient enough to deal with Raghav's spiritual crisis. This man rode Pavan through deserts, mountains, blizzards—basically every place normal people actively avoid. If this were a modern story, Pavan would be a Toyota Innova that never breaks down and somehow runs on divine intervention instead of fuel.
And thus begins the Great Spiritual Road Trip™—sponsored by bad decisions and religious obsession.


THE HIMALAYAN DISASTER (OR: HOW TO ADOPT A WOLF AND BREAK YOUR OWN HEART)
So Raghav wanders into the Himalayas, and then he meets the woman who is the reason for his madness. Love really makes you break your limits. “Priya Fanai”, his first crush, well, they met briefly, but she tells him there are Yetis up there and nobody comes back alive but Raghavendra, being Raghavendra, hands her his horse Pavan, promises to come back, and continues to climb the Himalayas because apparently freezing to death seemed like a fun spiritual exercise. Nearly dies of frostbite, because of course he does.
But this is where it gets interesting. Raghav stumbles upon a lone wolf cub whose entire pack was slaughtered by—you guessed it—Yetis. Because apparently this saga wasn't traumatic enough without adding abominable snowmen to the mix.
The cub is tiny, scared, adorable, and probably wondering why the universe hates him so much. Instead of sensibly moving on, Raghav scoops him up like, "Congratulations, little guy, you're my son now. Hope you're ready for a lifetime of questionable decisions."
He names him Jeevan, which literally means Life. (Not going to lie, that's actually pretty poetic for someone whose usual problem-solving method involves dying spectacularly.)
And honestly? This is the best part of the whole saga. Man and wolf bonding. Hunting together, eating together, sleeping under stars, sharing the kind of pure, uncomplicated love that makes you believe maybe—just maybe—this story won't end in absolute disaster.
Think The Lion King, but colder and with Shiva watching from the cosmic peanut gallery.
Jeevan becomes Raghav's family, his anchor, his reason to keep moving forward despite the universe's obvious vendetta against him.
Which makes what happens next... yeah. You can see where this is going, can't you?
TRAGEDY ALERT. Brace yourselves.
One day, because the universe apparently wasn't done crushing Raghav's soul, the Yetis attack again. Raghavendra gets cornered, and Jeevan—brave, loyal, beautiful Jeevan—throws himself into the fight and sacrifices his life to save his adopted father.
Yep. The poor pup dies.
And Raghav? He doesn't just grieve. He doesn't just cry. This man shatters. It completely and utterly breaks apart like a glass sculpture hitting concrete. He spends days mourning, howling at the sky, probably making the mountain animals deeply uncomfortable with his level of emotional devastation.
But then—because Raghav's coping mechanisms are about as healthy as my diet during finals week—instead of processing his grief like a normal person, what does he do?
He keeps moving forward. Finds Lord Shiva. But plot twist: Shiva's in the middle of his thousand-year Tandav dance, and apparently, he's got a "DO NOT DISTURB" sign the size of Mount Everest.
Enter Sasht—Shiva's other greatest devotee (yeah, there's always that one competitive guy in every fandom). Sasht basically tells Raghavendra, "Appointments are closed, buddy. You disturb the Tandav, you get obliterated. Take a number, get in line."
So what does our absolutely unhinged protagonist do? Does he wait patiently like a reasonable person?
Of course not.
He starts dancing. Along with Shiva. Full Tandav mode.
For twenty years.
In the snow.
Without food, water, or Netflix.
Just dancing. For Lord Shiva. Because apparently, that made sense to him.
And it works. After twenty years of non-stop cosmic choreography, Shiva himself finally shows up, probably thinking, "Who's this lunatic and why is he so good at keeping rhythm?"
Shiva's like: "Yo, you kept the beat for two decades. Respect. What do you want?"
And Raghavendra, still crying over his wolf son, goes: "Bring back Jeevan."
Shiva, with the gentle patience of someone who's dealt with this exact scenario 47,000 times: "Nah, can't resurrect him. Death's got rules, even for me. But here's the next best thing—I'll merge his soul into you and give you wolf powers. Boom. Faster, stronger, heals quickly, smells everything. Also, you can turn into a wolf now. Congrats, you're officially a Werewolf."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Raghavendra became the first werewolf in existence. The Origins of the Saga, as the subtitle so dramatically declares.


ENTER STAGE LEFT: YOURS TRULY (THE NORMAL ONE... ALLEGEDLY)

Alright, people, spotlight's on me now. You've suffered through Raghavendra's tragic backstory—prince, Shiva's fanboy, traumatic wolf-dad extraordinaire. But now it's my turn, and trust me, my life was way more normal before I got sucked into this cosmic nightmare.
I'm Vivaan, the "present-day guy" in this increasingly unhinged saga. Just your average teenager from Jeevanpur village (yes, named after the wolf). Living with family, hanging with friends, doing the usual teenage stuff—procrastinating homework, eating mom's food, trying not to flunk school—all while harbouring big dreams of becoming extremely rich. You know, normal goals.
So I land myself an internship in Bangalore (which, fun fact, used to be Shivodaya 6,800 years ago. I leave my little village behind, ready to conquer the corporate world, only to have my aunt—who was supposed to house me—completely ditch me.
Boom. Homeless on day one. Welcome to the big city, Vivaan. Population: you and your crushing disappointment.
Then I met Raghav. Yeah, that Raghav—reincarnation of Raghavendra Rakbedh, cosmic wolf-boy extraordinaire. But here's the hilarious plot twist: he has absolutely no clue about his past lives. Zero. Zilch. Nada.
He's not a saint, not a mystic, not some enlightened spiritual guru dispensing wisdom and inner peace but he is still secretly a Werewolf.
He's a gangster in this life.
A freaking gangster.
My destined roommate is basically the underworld's brooding anti-hero with anger management issues and a suspicious number of leather jackets. Great. Just perfect.


MEET THE GANG (AKA THE WOLVES OF BANGALORE)

And here's where I introduce you to my squad—The Wolves of Bangalore—the most dysfunctional found family you'll ever meet:
AKCHYUT: Tall, broody, sarcastic enough to make a comedian weep. This guy has more secrets than Google's algorithm and twice the trust issues. His traumatic backstory? His family literally disowned him for being gay. Yeah, because that's not heartbreaking at all.
BUNTY: Chubby, warm-hearted, tech nerd with a heart of gold and financial problems that could crush a small country. Born poor, sick dad, mounting medical bills—but still loyal as hell and would probably die for any of us without hesitation.
RHEA: The gorgeous delinquent with a tragic past that makes Greek mythology look like a feel-good rom-com. Her father—and I use that term very loosely—literally sold her to the red-light district for booze money after her mother died. Sold. His. Own. Daughter. Raghav saved her and declared her his sister, because apparently, this man collects traumatized people like some cosmic social worker.
PRIYA: Sweet, innocent, mysterious, and way too important to explain right now without spoiling everything. Let's just say she somehow stole Raghav's heart and, miraculously, didn't run screaming into the night. The woman deserves a medal for bravery.
So yeah, I meet this pack of walking trauma responses, and some of those introductions... hurt. (We're not talking about that day. Let's just flush that particular memory and move on to literally anything else.)
After spectacularly losing my internship—because apparently, the universe thought I was having too much fun—Raghav takes pity on me and brings me into his gang.
Suddenly, I'm neck-deep in shady business, dodging enemies like Vikram (ugh, I hate that smug bastard), and destiny starts knocking on our door with a freaking battering ram.
Then my mom passed away. (Yeah, that one still hurts.)
On her deathbed—because apparently, even dying, Indian mothers can't resist matchmaking—she declares Rhea my wife.
(Yeah, thanks, Mom. No pressure at all.)
I bond with Rhea more when we get back to Bangalore, leave my dad with his newspapers and his stubborn refusal to acknowledge emotions, and just keep sending him money while pretending everything's fine.
The gang? They become my new family. The family that really matters.
And of course, because my life couldn't stay simple, things get progressively weirder. Stranger enemies. Bizarre power surges. Spirits calling out to Raghav like he's some kind of supernatural customer service hotline.
Then boom—Yakshini attack.
Turns out it's all connected to XESCO, which is actually working for Pisasht. And guess what delightful revelation we discover? They're the ones who burned down Jeevanpur... and they're Priya's family.
Crazy plot twist, right? Because apparently, this saga needed more family dysfunction.
Oh, crap, I almost forgot Roy—and trust me, I wish I could forget him permanently. He's Priya's ex, the kind of guy who gives human garbage a bad name. She ran away with him, thinking it was love, mostly teenage rebellion, and he ditched her after stealing her money. Real classy, right? Like something out of a "How to be a Complete Waste of Oxygen" manual.
Naturally, the gang and I beat his ass and took back every rup*e of her gold and cash. Satisfying doesn't begin to cover it.
Priya moves in with Rhea, hiding from her filthy rich family, the Fanai’s (yeah, we'll get to that), and deciding to make Bangalore her permanent home.
For a brief, shining moment, things were actually looking good. I adapted to gang life, got absolutely shredded under the guidance of Yagi, my guru at the Adda (thank you, sir, for these magnificent muscles that are definitely not going to my head).
Life was... stable? Peaceful? For about five minutes.


THE MUMBAI RESCUE MISSION (OR: HOW I BRIEFLY FELT LIKE A HERO)

Then Rhea discovers that the girls from her orphanage—her sisters—were kidnapped in Mumbai by Gang Freddy, some rival gang with delusions of competence.
So naturally, we mount a rescue mission. Amazing infiltration, perfectly executed, and honestly? It felt damn good to be the hero for once instead of the guy getting his ass handed to him by life.
But then Ved the Seeker shows up with all the ominous energy of a horror movie trailer, warning Raghav about someone named Sasht.
Raghav doesn't even know who that is, but just hearing the name sends him into a panic attack that would make anxiety disorders look like mild concern. So we rush back to Bangalore like our lives depend on it.
Spoiler alert: they do.
Because Sasht finds us anyway.
And yeah, things go spectacularly, horrifically bad.


THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL (OR: HOW TO DESTROY YOUR LIFE IN RECORD TIME)

Freddy's boys catch me off guard and beat me to a pulp. Life lesson learned the hard way: never p*e in public in Bangalore. I get it, there aren't enough public toilets, the city's infrastructure is a joke, but still—just hold it.
Raghav, seeing me bloody and broken, completely loses what's left of his sanity. He doesn't just fight back—he annihilates Freddy's entire gang. Like, obliterated. Turned them into abstract art painted in blood and regret.
I get terrified he'll get in legal trouble, so in a moment of pure desperation, I call Vikram—yeah, my least favorite person in existence. He swoops in with all his smug superiority, hates Raghav with the passion of a thousand burning suns, but takes all the credit for cleaning up the mess anyway.
Then we hit Raghav's regret flashback arc, because apparently, we hadn't suffered enough.
Turns out his godmother Adhira once saved him and another girl named Tia from the streets. Raghav, being a brat with zero impulse control, convinced Tia to leave her safe haven with him. And she was killed by goons for it.
Killed. Because of his stupidity.
Raghav was destroyed. Completely broken. He trained obsessively, harnessed his wolf powers, left Adhira's ashram, and later saved Rhea from the exact same fate, killing those same goons in the process.
Now he sees Rhea as the sister he lost—his chance to save Tia. It's poetic, painful, and heavy enough to crush your soul into powder.
Back to the present disaster: Raghav decides to quit gangster life, be good, live peacefully with Priya like some reformed criminal in a feel-good movie.
Sir John (Vikram's dad and major gang boss) accepts his resignation but warns him that enemies don't just vanish because you've found inner peace.
Smart man. Too bad nobody listened.
Raghav's ready to leave the life behind, but me? I'm skeptical as hell. The guy's made too many enemies, burned too many bridges. They're not just gonna disappear because he's decided to become a good boy.
So I stay in the gang, determined to protect my family from the shadows.
Problem is... I start spiraling into drugs and addiction. Don't want to talk about it. Don't want to think about it. Just hear me on this: don't. It's poison. Pure, soul-destroying poison that'll eat you alive from the inside out.
Meanwhile, Priya lands Raghav a legitimate job, and I end up working under Vikram—who, naturally, plots against me like it's his full-time hobby.
The irony is painful: I spiral deeper from innocent village kid to drug-addicted gangster, while Raghav transforms from ruthless gangster to "reformed guy giving job interviews in pressed shirts."
But here's the real plot twist that nobody saw coming: Raghav had orchestrated Priya's move to Bangalore. He'd been planning it all along, wanting to get closer to her family—the same family that burned his village when he was just a kid.
Revenge. It was always about revenge.


THE EXPLOSIVE FINALE (OR: HOW BOOK ONE DECIDED TO TRAUMATIZE US ALL)

And then... the ending that nobody was prepared for.
At a routine drug deal—because my life had gotten that pathetic—Vikram shoots me. Just... shoots me. Like I'm nothing. Like all our shared history, all the times I saved his ungrateful ass, means absolutely nothing.
And that's when Raghav snaps.
He doesn't just get angry. He doesn't just fight back.
He transforms into a full-blown werewolf. Right there, in front of everyone, cosmic power erupting like a supernatural nuclear bomb.
Plot twist number 47: Priya's family, the Fanai? Also werewolves. The whole damn family. Rich, powerful, and apparently part of some ancient werewolf dynasty with serious anger management issues.
And Book One ends with Raghav—bloody, furious, completely unhinged—storming into the XESCO boardroom to face Priya's family.
Alone.
Against five werewolves.
Five.
Blood everywhere, betrayal cutting deeper than knives, muscles rippling with supernatural power, and me lying there bleeding out while watching my best friend march toward what's probably a spectacular death.
That's how Book One ends.

FINAL THOUGHTS (OR: WELCOME TO HELL, POPULATION: US)

By the end of Book One, things had escalated from "this is concerning" to "oh God, we're all definitely going to die horribly."
Friends were scattered like leaves in a hurricane, enemies were multiplying like rabbits, and the stakes? Higher than my stress levels during exam season, which is saying something.
My life had gone from "normal village boy with big dreams" to "drug-addicted gangster watching his werewolf best friend charge into certain doom while bleeding out on a dirty Mumbai street."
Character development, everyone.
And now... we're here. Book Two. Which means more danger, more secrets, more family revelations that'll make your head spin, and probably more gray hairs for me—assuming I survive long enough to grow any.
The cosmic horror show continues, destiny keeps knocking down our door with increasingly bigger battering rams, and somewhere out there, Sasht is probably sharpening his metaphysical claws for round two.
So yeah, welcome back to the madness, you beautiful, traumatized readers.
And if you're new to this saga—congratulations. You've just boarded the most chaotic, emotionally devastating roller coaster in literary existence.
No refunds. No mercy. No survivors.
But hey, at least the werewolves are hot, right?..Right?


Next stop: Book Two, where everything gets worse and I probably develop three new anxiety disorders.
Pray for us.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FMKBXSXW?ref_=cm_sw_r_ffobk_cp_ud_dp_WJN2N445019EKFAZ5QEP

“✨ Excited to share new artwork from The Rakbedh Saga! 🐺 Each character, every detail, reflects the spirit of this story close to my heart. ❤️ Your support means the world as I bring this journey to life! 🌌📖”