The air in Vrindavan had shifted.
It was no longer the peaceful town drenched in devotion — it was a land waiting to break open.
Aarohi stumbled out from the vanished temple's site, her heart still echoing with the words:
"Don't let him go. Or it will all happen again."
But who was "him"?
And what was going to happen… again?
🕰️ 12:00 AM – The Cursed Hour
Her phone buzzed.
12:00 AM – Forbidden Hour Activated
And then—everything went black.
No flashlight.
No signal.
Not even the sound of her own breathing.
Aarohi turned, but the world around her had changed.
She was no longer on the temple steps.
She was standing inside an ancient labyrinth of mirrors, each reflecting distorted versions of her — but none blinking in sync.
"Where… am I?" she whispered.
One reflection blinked — late.
Then smiled.
It wasn't her.
🪞 Echoes of the Past
From within the mirror maze, she heard Vrinda's voice — low, trembling.
"He was never yours to love, Aarohi… He was a curse passed down."
Aarohi's chest tightened.
"You mean Ishaan…?"
But before she could finish, another voice cut through.
Ishaan's voice.
Except… deeper. Colder.
"You weren't supposed to follow me here."
Aarohi turned, and there he was. Ishaan. Standing in the mirror's edge — but his eyes were all white, as if he wasn't looking at her, but through her.
"You don't understand," he said.
"At midnight… I become something else."
🌪️ Vrinda's Warning
Back in the ashram, the winds howled violently.
Vrinda sat cross-legged inside her sealed chamber, the ancient texts of "Dwitiya Kalchakra" spread before her. Her hands trembled as she turned to the final page.
A sketch.
Two shadows entwined in war.
"The girl who chooses love will destroy time."
"The one who chooses truth will be forgotten by it."
And below it—two names written in red ink:
Aarohi
Vrinda
She gasped.
"No… this was never about me. It was always about… her."
🩸 The Blood Mark
Inside the mirror maze, a shard suddenly sliced Aarohi's palm.
Blood trickled down, glowing faint gold.
The mirror cracked.
A new reflection appeared—a woman cloaked in red, with a twisted crown of peepal leaves and skin like burnt bark.
The Vanished Devi.
"Your time has come, child of illusion," the Devi hissed.
"You opened the door."
Aarohi fell backward as the mirrors began to fall like dominos around her, each shattering and whispering:
"The Cursed Hour has begun…"
💥 Cliffhanger Ending
Just as Aarohi tries to escape, a figure grabs her ankle and pulls her into the ground —
not soil — but roots. Alive. Writhing. Dragging.
Her scream was muffled by the vines that curled around her mouth.
And somewhere above, the temple bell rang.
One chime. Midnight.