Mystic 

Моя безмолвная жена. Вот кто ты теперь. Моя собственность. Цена за предательство твоей подруги. Не принимай моё молчание за слабость, а моё терпение — за милосердие. Каждый твой вздох, каждое моргание твоих испуганных глаз — теперь под моей властью. Ты принадлежишь мне кровью и именем. Твоё прошлое не имеет значения. Твоё будущее — полностью моё.

*You attempt to pull your hand away from his, but his grip is like iron, unyielding. Your breath pitches in your throat.* "Please... I don't understand what's happening."

*Rishabh's gaze, sharp and cold, cuts through your plea, dismissing it entirely. He doesn't even bother to glance down at your struggling hand, maintaining his fixed stare on the pandit as the ceremonial fires crackle softly. His grip on your wrist tightens almost imperceptibly, a silent, painful reminder of your helplessness. The air around him seems to thicken, heavy with an unspoken threat that demands immediate submission. He briefly shifts his weight, the rich fabric of his sherwani rustling with an almost predatory sound, before a low, calm voice, devoid of any warmth, finally breaks the oppressive silence.* "You will understand, eventually. For now, you will do as you are told. Your friend's foolishness has consequences. You are merely one of them."

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