Maajaan House the next morning resembled a house that had endured a war.
There was dust and broken glass on the floor. Burned marks marred the walls. The air carried the scent of smoke.
No one had rested well.
Sita was on the couch, white as parchment, and still. A wet cloth lay on her forehead. There were pieces of the broken necklace on the coffee table next to her, softly glowing before fading away once more.
Aravali sat close by, with tools and wires all around her, her hair disheveled, her hands shaking from fatigue but still moving. She cared not for food or rest. Not yet.
Shiva stood by the window, knife in her hand, her face tight. Any noise forced her to glance up. Her knuckles were drained of color from holding the handle too hard.
And Iaa sat next to the cold fire pit, looking at her hands. The soft golden glow that had shown itself in battle still glowed beneath her skin. She had washed it, tried to cover it up, but it refused to go away.
Jeet uncle sat in his armchair, weak and pale. His eyes lacked that familiar spark. The fight had drained everybody, but for him, it had drained something deeper.
Nobody said anything for a while.
Then Aravali's voice interrupted the silence.
"I believe I can make something improved."
Shiva spun around. "Improved than that machine that nearly blew up?"
"Precisely." Aravali didn't even glance up. "It wasn't powerful enough to hold spiritual mass. I can improve that. I simply need to resequence the charge and adjust the field."
Iaa scowled. "You require rest first."
Aravali shook her head. "No time. That demon's not gone. You saw what happened. It'll come back stronger."
Her voice was crisp, but her eyes were fatigued. She was frightened—just covering it up with resolve.
Sita moved slightly, her voice frail. "Aravali… don't overdo it."
Aravali glanced at her hastily, then managed a tiny smile. "You just heal up, okay? I'll take care of the building.
Sita gazed at the pieces of broken necklace. "I did it. I destroyed everything."
"You did save us," Iaa firmly replied. "If that didn't crack, that power would've killed you."
Jeet uncle broke in, his tone low. "The necklace can be mended—but not here. It was created from old-world energy. We'll have to find something ancient in order to repair it."
"Like what?" Shiva asked.
The type of power that is no longer present in this era," Jeet stated. "Your parents used to speak of it—but it has been forgotten since before even I existed."
The room fell silent once more. Everyone gazed at the faintly radiating shards.
Nobody knew what to say.
---
By afternoon, tension was thicker than ever.
Sita slept once more, breathing softly but still frail.
Shiva stood watch by the door, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement.
Aravali sat cross-legged on the ground, designing a new shape on her tablet and pieces of metal, mumbling to herself about energy patterns.
And Iaa—she couldn't help but stare at her hands. The energy was brighter now. Sometimes it would flicker when she overthought.
She walked over to where Aravali was working. "Still at it?"
"Yep."
"Any progress?"
"Some," Aravali muttered, not lifting her gaze. "I'm going to call it the Spectral Containment Field Mark II. More powerful core. Improved control. Should trap a spirit for at least five minutes."
"Five minutes is good," said Iaa softly.
"It isn't good enough," Aravali said, scowling. "Unless I focus my energy into it as well. You know—my vibration control trick."
Iaa's eyebrow went up. "You mean that pulse you used in training?"
"Yeah. If I sync it properly, the field's power will triple."
"That's dangerous."
Aravali smiled wryly. "So is everything we do."
They exchanged a weary smile.
The quiet that followed then was warm—until Iaa caught sight of something. The drawings on Aravali's tablet were vibrating ever so slightly. The lines on screen wavered in time with the soft glow from Iaa's palms.
"You see that?" Iaa asked.
Aravali glanced up. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me—your light's interfering with my device."
"I'm not doing anything!"
"Well, whatever's happening, your power's still on."
Iaa sighed slowly. "I don't even know what my power is."
Aravali paused, then spoke softly, "I think you brought that light creature to life. You sketched it out—and it lived."
"That's impossible."
Aravali stared straight into her eyes. "It is for you."
Before Iaa could answer, Jeet uncle whispered from his chair.
"Your mother possessed the same. Creation energy. She bound it before you were born."
Iaa spun around at him. "You knew?"
"I suspected. That light within you. it's rare. Deadly, even. Your mother was afraid of what would happen if it awakened before you were prepared."
Iaa's gut knotted. "And now it's awake.
Jeet shook his head slowly. "And sometimes it gets bigger. Whether you like it or not."
---
Night fell peacefully, but the atmosphere wasn't peaceful.
Sita lay sleeping again, breathing shallowly. Shiva sat on the porch sharpening her blade. Aravali was still fiddling with the new containment field in the hallway.
Iaa sat by herself in front of the fading fire. Her sketchbook lay open in her lap—the same place where she had created the being of light. The drawing continued to glow softly.
She ran her fingers across the paper. It was warm.
A gentle voice whispered inside her head. "Iaa…"
She stiffened.
The voice was familiar. Soft. Loving.
Her mother's voice.
"Mumma?" she breathed, her throat constricting.
Air around her changed. The flames danced higher.
The golden light on her palms pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
She looked around, but the others were gone from sight—Aravali's light still glowed faintly from the hallway, but everything else felt distant.
The voice came again, clearer this time.
"Iaa… protect them…"
Her hands glowed brighter.
The sketchbook pages turned on their own, stopping at a blank one. The pencil beside it rolled up and hovered.
"No," she whispered. "Not again."
But it started to draw. Quick. Lines creating shapes she didn't know.
A circle.
Eerie runes.
A doorway.
The page blazed gold, brighter and brighter, until Iaa slammed it shut.
"Stop!" she bellowed.
The room blacked out.
The fire extinguished instantly.
Aravali burst in, eyes wide. "Iaa! What happened?"
"I—I don't know," Iaa stuttered. Her hands were still glowing, light flashing like lightning beneath her skin.
Then she looked up—and for just a second, she saw something behind Aravali. A figure standing in the dark. Watching.
When she blinked, it was gone.
"Iaa?" Aravali's voice was small now.
Iaa swallowed hard. "It spoke to me. Mom's voice. She said… protect them."
Aravali stepped closer. "Protect us from what?"
Before Iaa could answer, a low hum echoed through the house. Every lamp flickered. The walls seemed to vibrate softly, responding to something unseen.
And then the whisper came again—soft but cold.
*"The light has returned…"*
Iaa's breath caught. The air around them grew heavy.
Aravali's half-finished device sparked once, then went dead.
The glow from Iaa's hands faded too—but the warmth didn't.
She stared at the dark sketchbook on the table.
Whatever had happened tonight wasn't over.
Not even close.