The story recap:
Moksh and Albert arrive in a remote village on Ross Island, where the locals are wary of outsiders. The village elders initially show disdain for Albert's light magic but hold respect for Moksh, a known mediator with the Paranormal Police.
Moksh and Albert discover a hidden chamber beneath a shrine, where they find evidence of an ancient curse. An old prophecy and a historical scroll reveal that the witch's murders are not random acts but a deliberate series of elemental sacrifices. These rituals are designed to corrupt the island's elemental balance—fire, water, earth, and thunder—to pave the way for her full awakening and vengeance.
The witch unleashes a violent storm, forcing Moksh to use his Sage Eyes to deflect dark thunder magic while Albert's Holi magic creates a sanctuary for the villagers. Seeing the two work in harmony, the elders finally accept that only a combination of both light and dark magic can defeat the growing threat. The newly found information gives Moksh and Albert the knowledge they need to stop the witch before she completes her final sacrifice and unleashes an eternal elemental storm.
After that:
The village lay cradled between dense jungles and the restless sea, wrapped in a mist that clung low to the earth like a shroud. The salty air bit at exposed skin, and every sound—a distant howl of wind, a branch snapping underfoot—felt magnified in the silence.
As Moksh and Albert entered, with Paranormal police trailing, every villager paused their work to watch. Fishermen gripped their nets tighter. Children ducked behind mud walls. And through it all, the village elders—stern faces framed by years of ritual—guarded the square from a stone platform shaded by mossy trees.
Here, everyone knew Moksh; the Paranormal police did, too, nodding respectfully as he strode ahead. But the rest looked askance at Albert, his aura bright—an outsider and a council mage whose presence was met with wary glances and curt nods.
Albert cast his gaze around, sensing the elemental imbalance—fouled water sources, strange patterns scorched into the earth, gusts of wind that felt unnatural. Light shimmered faintly around his hands with each pulse, warning him of something corrupt at work.
Moksh, meanwhile, walked with a casual confidence, scanning every detail with Sage Eyes, reading every hint of dark magic woven into the corners and alleys. Though the elders were annoyingly stubborn, they recognized Moksh's rare status—a bridge between the village and the Paranormal police, earned through sharp intellect, elemental mastery, and deep-rooted ties to West Asia.
The Paranormal police split off, interviewing villagers who pointedly ignored Albert but watched Moksh with hope reserved for those who've seen miracles.
Moksh approached the council—a semicircle of elders seated under an ancient fig tree whose roots tangled like secrets in the earth. They greeted him with curt nods but remained cool. Albert stood beside him, radiant and calm, but the distance in the elders' gazes was palpable.
"Old friends," Moksh began, voice low but commanding. "Elements fracture, wells dry, crops wither, skies rage uncontrollably. Who poisons the balance here?"
The eldest, a woman whose eyes held storms and sorrow, answered with care, "The shadow witch's corruption runs deep. Fire consumes where water should heal. Thunder booms without warning. Our talismans vanish, and darkness blooms."
Albert stepped forward, hands glowing faint with Holi magic that shimmered like liquid light. "To cleanse such corruption, light must meet shadow with no compromises. I bring purifying power, though I am but a servant to balance."
A younger elder snorted, "Light burns fiercely, but shadows protect ancient truths." His gaze flicked challenging to Albert.
Moksh's dark eyes glimmered. "It is the balance, always. Both light and darkness wielded with wisdom will break this curse."
Reluctantly, the elders led them through fog-dwelling alleys, the air thick with electric tension and whispered warnings. They stopped before a moss-choked shrine half-swallowed by roots and shadows.
Inside, the walls bore etched runes—some faded by time, others slick and freshly bloomed with dark stains. Moksh lowered himself, eyes flickering violet as the Sage Eyes sought movement beyond sight.
Suddenly, a tendril of hostile shadow magic shot forth—a trap laid by unseen hands. Reflexively, Moksh mirrored the spell, absorbing its bitter essence and twisting it back as a dark blade.
The spell's recoil revealed a hidden door behind the altar, swinging open to a descending stair.
Albert moved quickly, channeling Holi light into the opening, flames of radiant energy dissociating the foul haze and illuminating a narrow passage lined with strange symbols.
The underground chamber breathed shadow and earth alike, a living tomb of corrupted elemental power. Walls pulsed with stolen talismans, each draining precious balance from the village above.
Scattered bones clawed the ground, etched with bone-carved scriptures hinted of an ancient prophecy:
"When all elements rot, the shadow's master rises."
Albert traced his fingertips over the carvings, his Holi magic burning gently like dawn's first light, revealing names carved beside elemental marks—victims, their deaths mapped with cruel precision.
Moksh translated the warning: the witch was no mere sorceress but a predator weaving fire, darkness, and thunder into a devastating storm—hunting and corrupting to hasten an elemental apocalypse.
Without warning, above ground, a thunderous rupture shattered the night—a wild tempest unleashed by the witch's furious hand. Trees bent, earth cracked, and lightning speared the soil like rage made manifest.
Moksh's voice sharpened as he trapped the incoming dark thunder spell with his Sage Eyes, bending it aside with practiced mastery and shielding frightened villagers. Albert's hands blazed with purifying light, building a sanctuary wall of Holi flame that held the convulsing elements at bay.
The elders, shaken by the raw force, saw the truth: light and shadow united are the only hope against this growing darkness.
In the heart of the chamber amongst relics, Albert found an ancient scroll, wrapped in brittle silk and sealed with a dark emblem. The council stepped back, murmuring in fear.
Albert carefully unfurled the document, its faded ink revealing a historical record, intertwined with elemental lore and sinister prophecy:
The Curse of the Shadow Witch
Within these lands, centuries ago, a mage of unparalleled power sought dominion over all elements—fire, water, earth, thunder, wind, light, and darkness. Betrayed by her kin and cast into exile, she bound her soul to dark magic, vowing vengeance.
Her corruption grew through stolen talismans, merging with the primal forces of the island's ancient ley lines. The murders, each brutal and ritualistic, were sacrifices to channel the elemental chaos needed to break the bindings that held her in shadow.
Each victim corresponded to elemental marks—those who opposed her or guarded the balance paid with their lives. The witch's goal: a devastating surge that would rend the veil between light and darkness, drowning the region in chaotic power, irreparable and eternal.
Only those who master both shadow and light, wielding elemental harmony, can confront and purify the curse—stopping the witch before the final sacrifice completes her awakening.
Moksh and Albert exchanged grim looks. The murders weren't random but precise—a calculated elementally charged campaign by a witch driven by vengeance and ancient, forbidden sorcery.
As dawn bled pale light over the misty village, the fragile peace held. The witch's shadow loomed large, but the combined forces of Albert's Holi magic and Moksh's Sage Eyes mastery marked a turning tide.
The elders bowed not only to tradition but now to necessity, allowing the Paranormal police and their champions room to act.
"We stand on the edge," Moksh said, voice steady but fierce. "But together, we hold the power to banish the shadow."
Albert nodded, palms still aglow with fading Holi light. "Balance must be reclaimed, no matter the cost."
Their journey was far from over. The elemental battle—between light and shadow, fire and thunder, earth and wind—had only just begun. But armed with the truth and ancient power, they faced the coming darkness with unshakable resolve.