The next morning was strange.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that makes your chest feel heavy.
Iaa sat near the big window in Maajaan House, watching the light crawl across the floor. The house looked normal, but it didn't feel normal anymore. There was something in the air—something that made her skin prickle.
She didn't even realize Aravali was in the room until she heard her voice.
"Still not eating?"
Iaa didn't look up. "Not hungry."
"Same," Aravali sighed and dropped onto the old chair beside her. She had oil stains on her hands and dark circles under her eyes. "Been working on that gadget thing. Might actually work this time."
"Might?"
"Well, unless it explodes."
That made Iaa smile for half a second. The kind of small smile that doesn't reach the eyes.
They sat in silence for a while. Just the wind outside and the faint ticking of a clock that hadn't worked in years.
"You think Jeet uncle's going to be okay?" Aravali asked.
Iaa finally turned her head. "He's trying to act fine, but he's not. His energy's fading. You can feel it."
"Yeah," Aravali whispered. "I hate seeing him like that. He's always been so… unshakeable."
"He still is," Iaa said quietly. "He just doesn't have much left to give."
They both knew what that meant.
It meant whatever was coming next—they were mostly on their own.
Downstairs, the smell of toast and tea filled the air. Shiva was humming something loud and dramatic while Sita stirred sugar into everyone's cups. Hari floated around like he owned the kitchen.
"Good morning, ghosts and mortals!" he grinned, holding a teapot that somehow wasn't falling through his hand.
"Morning," Shiva mumbled through a mouthful of toast. "We've got a big day ahead. Gotta load up."
"By load up you mean eat five slices of bread?" Sita teased.
"Hey, carbs are fuel."
When the twins came down, everyone turned to look. Iaa's serious face told them the morning chatter was about to end.
"Where's Jeet uncle?" she asked.
"Here," came his tired voice from the doorway.
He looked worse. Pale, drained, leaning hard on his cane. Even Hari's glow dimmed a little seeing him like that.
"The time has come," Jeet said, lowering himself into a chair. "Before sunset, the seal will weaken. When the reflection of the sun touches the river, the second sun will rise. That's when Varkash will come."
The name filled the room like smoke.
Sita froze. "Varkash?"
"It feeds on regret," Jeet said. "On guilt. On what people wish they could change. The more you think about what hurts you, the stronger it gets."
"Then we can't doubt ourselves," Iaa said quietly.
"Exactly," Jeet nodded. "And I can't fight it this time. My powers are almost gone. This one's on you."
Silence again. Nobody moved.
Until Shiva broke it. "Then we'll handle it. Together."
Her voice was steady. Confident. Brave.
By afternoon, Maajaan House was alive with motion.
Sita drew protective circles with salt and incense, singing softly as she worked.
Aravali was in the hallway, connecting wires, adjusting her strange glowing device.
Shiva trained outside, swinging her blessed knife until her arms shook.
And Iaa moved from room to room, checking every sigil, every mark, every weapon.
When the sun began to drop, Jeet gathered them one last time in the main hall. The floor still bore the scars from the ritual circle—the one that had given them their powers.
"Stay close," he said. "The demon will try to separate you. Do not break the circle unless you must."
Hari floated forward, his expression serious for once. "If you get lost, follow the blue lights in the east wing. I'll guide you."
The twins nodded.
Outside, the sky turned orange, then red.
Inside, the candles flickered.
Then the light shifted. For a second, the reflection of the sun on the river shone through the window.
Two suns in the sky.
And that's when the ground began to shake.
The first sound was a growl. Deep and wrong.
Dust fell from the ceiling. The walls shivered.
Sita clutched her necklace. It glowed faint blue. "It's here."
Then—darkness. The candles blew out.
Everyone froze.
A pair of red eyes appeared in the dark.
"Scatter!" Iaa shouted.
The thing that stepped forward was not human. Smoke, fire, shadow—it was all of those and none. A monstrous figure with horns like broken glass and a voice that scraped across the floorboards.
"So… the daughters return," it hissed.
"Not for a reunion," Shiva yelled and charged, knife in hand.
Her blade hit its arm—but passed straight through. The demon laughed, a low, awful sound that made the walls pulse.
Shiva flew backward, slamming into a pillar.
"Shiva!" Iaa ran forward, but invisible pressure pinned her in place. The air itself had weight.
"Hey, flame-face!" Aravali shouted. "Catch this!"
She fired her containment beam. A bright bolt of blue slammed into the demon's chest. For a heartbeat, its body glitched—smoke thinning, form flickering.
"Now!" Iaa yelled.
Sita stepped into the light circle, hands shaking. She began to sing. The melody was fragile at first, but her voice grew steadier. Notes filled the air, shimmering like ripples on water.
The demon recoiled.
Its growl turned to a scream.
But Sita's necklace started cracking, light bursting from it. "I can't—hold—it—"
"Stop!" Aravali shouted, running toward her.
Too late. A shockwave burst out from Sita, shattering windows and shaking the floor. The demon was thrown back, but Sita fell to her knees, clutching her chest, breathing hard.
"Sita!" Shiva crawled to her side. "You okay?"
"I—I think so," she whispered, though her necklace was dull and broken.
And then Iaa's sketchbook flew open on its own.
Pages flipped wildly until one stopped—blank, waiting.
The pencil beside it rolled, then lifted.
It started drawing by itself.
A circle. Wings. A sword.
The lines glowed.
"Iaa…" Aravali whispered.
But Iaa couldn't move. Her hand was glowing too. The same light as the page.
A figure rose from the drawing—a being made of light and fire, faceless but strong. It turned toward the demon.
Varkash roared.
The light figure didn't speak. It just moved.
The clash lit up the whole hall.
Every strike shook the ground, light and shadow tearing through the air. The demon's screams echoed like thunder.
Then—an explosion of white.
The light creature drove its sword into the demon's chest. The mark burned bright before the creature dissolved into dust.
Varkash stumbled back, its form breaking apart—but not gone.
Smoke swirled, thick and angry.
"You… will… regret this," it hissed, before vanishing into the shadows.
Silence.
Only the sound of their breathing.
Aravali's device fizzed and went dead.
Sita's necklace lay cracked on the floor.
Shiva's knife was scorched at the edge.
Jeet appeared at the top of the stairs, pale as chalk. "What happened?"
Iaa looked up at him, her hands still glowing faintly. "It came. We fought it. It's not dead… but it's weaker."
Jeet nodded slowly, eyes full of pride and sadness. "You've done what even your parents couldn't—wounded Varkash."
Iaa frowned. "It said something. About my mother fearing what I awakened."
Jeet looked down. "Your mother sealed that power inside you before she died. She never wanted you to use it. But destiny doesn't care for wishes."
Nobody spoke.
Outside, thunder rolled.
In the distance, red smoke curled into the night sky, rising from the forest.
Aravali exhaled shakily. "So, we didn't win, did we?"
"No," Iaa said softly, staring at her still-glowing hands. "We just survived round one."
And somewhere far away, in the heart of the forest, the demon's laughter echoed—faint, but promising.
The fight was only beginning.