It had been two days since the battle. Maajaan House was quiet again, but not peaceful. The air still carried the smell of burnt wood and iron. The halls were filled with silence, broken only by the creak of old floors and the faint wind slipping through cracked windows.
Iaa stood near the main door, staring out at the forest. The morning light barely reached the porch, and everything felt heavier now. They had won… sort of. The demon was gone, for now, but the cost was visible in all of them.
Sita still couldn't walk properly without support. Her voice was softer, weaker, and the broken pieces of her necklace were sealed in a box Aravali had made to keep them safe. Aravali hadn't stopped working, her eyes red from sleepless nights, always adjusting something on that new device of hers. Shiva had gone silent. She wasn't cracking jokes anymore or training either—just sitting outside, staring at her knife. And Iaa couldn't look at her hands without seeing that golden light. It was still there, faint, glowing under her skin whenever she felt too much of anything.
Jeet uncle hadn't left his room since the fight. He was recovering but weak. They barely heard his voice. It was around noon when they heard it—an engine outside. A car. Then another. The sound rolled through the valley like thunder. Aravali looked up from her work. "No one knows we're here, right?"
Iaa's heart sank. "Our parents." Shiva ran to the window. "You've got to be kidding me." The cars stopped at the front gate. Doors opened. Voices followed. When the doors of Maajaan House creaked open, Iaa didn't need to look twice. Her father was there—Ravi. His face was pale, eyes filled with something between anger and fear. His coat still carried dust from travel, but his posture—rigid and sharp—said everything.
Behind him stood Sahiram and Devi, Shiva's parents. Both looked equally shaken, eyes darting around the ruined hall, taking in the sight of cracked walls, broken glass, and four exhausted girls. Sita stayed seated on the couch, too weak to stand. Kuwarjeet appeared slowly from the hallway, leaning on his cane. He looked older than ever.
"Ravi," he said softly. Ravi's eyes flared. "Don't. Don't you dare say my name like that."
"Please, listen—"
"Listen?" Ravi's voice rose. "You had no right! No right to drag them into this madness!"
Kuwarjeet's voice trembled. "It was their choice. They found the diary, they awakened what was already inside them."
"Because you didn't stop them!" Sahiram barked. His usual calmness was gone. "You should've sent them back home the moment they arrived!"
Devi stepped forward, her voice shaking. "Do you have any idea what could've happened? Shiva could've died!"
Shiva finally spoke, her voice quiet but firm. "But I didn't. We handled it."
Ravi turned to her. "Handled it? You call this handling it?" He pointed at the shattered floor, at Sita's bandaged leg, at Iaa's trembling hands. "You're children playing with forces you don't understand."
Iaa met his gaze, anger boiling under her calm tone. "You think hiding from it makes us safe? The demon came because of our bloodline. If we hadn't fought, it would've found us anyway."
Ravi's face froze for a moment. "You sound just like her," he muttered.
Iaa frowned. "Like who?"
He looked away. "Your mother."
The silence that followed was heavy. Kuwarjeet stepped forward slightly, his voice hoarse. "Ravi, please. Don't punish them for what fate has already chosen. They are part of this now, whether we like it or not."
Sahiram shook his head. "I don't care about fate. I care about keeping my daughter alive."
Devi nodded quickly. "All of them. They've been through enough."
Kuwarjeet's tone hardened. "You think running will help? The darkness doesn't care about distance. It follows blood."
Ravi glared at him. "Then we'll find another way."
The argument went on for nearly an hour. Voices echoed through the house—old guilt, old anger, everything unsaid for years spilling out at once.
Shiva slammed her hand against the wall. "Enough! We fought. We survived. You weren't here!"
Devi's eyes widened. "Shiva!"
"No," she said, breathing hard. "You weren't. None of you were. You left us in the dark, and now that we finally did something right, you're angry?"
Sita tried to speak but coughed instead. Aravali went to help her sit up. Iaa stayed where she was, her voice low but cutting through the noise. "You can take us away, but you can't undo what's happened. We're not the same anymore."
That made everyone stop. Even Ravi went silent.
Jeet's voice came from behind them, soft but steady. "Let them choose their path."
He stood in the doorway, holding onto the wall for balance. His eyes were dim, but his voice carried strength. "You think keeping them away from Maajaan will protect them? You're wrong. The power has already awakened. Denying it will only make it worse."
Ravi turned to him. "Then what do you suggest?"
Jeet sighed. "Let them live. Let them learn to control it. But not here. The spirits will return, and the house will need time to heal."
Sahiram crossed his arms. "And where do they go? You want them to just… go back to school like nothing happened?"
Jeet smiled faintly. "Yes. Let them study. Let them have a life. Make them apply to universities abroad. Keep them apart for a while—it will help them learn who they are individually."
The room fell quiet again. It wasn't what anyone expected, but somehow, it made sense.
Ravi exhaled slowly. "You're saying distance is the solution?"
Jeet nodded. "It's not distance. It's time. Time to grow. To understand what they carry."
The parents exchanged glances. No one spoke for a long moment. Then Devi finally said softly, "If it means keeping them alive… I agree."
Sahiram followed. "So do I."
Ravi looked at his daughters. Iaa met his gaze without flinching. Aravali just looked tired. "Fine," he said finally. "You'll all apply abroad. Finish your degrees. Then we talk again."
The words felt like both punishment and protection.
Later that evening, the parents began making arrangements. Calls were made. Papers signed. Bags packed. Shiva sat with Sita near the fire, both quiet. Aravali worked one last time on her device, not saying a word. And Iaa stood outside on the porch, staring at the fading sunset over the valley.
Kuwarjeet came to stand beside her, slow and weak. "They're doing what they think is right," he said.
"I know," Iaa whispered. "But it feels wrong. Like we're abandoning Maajaan."
"You're not," he said gently. "You're carrying it with you."
She turned to look at him. "And what about you?"
He smiled faintly. "I'll be here. The house needs someone to listen when it starts whispering again."
They stood there in silence, the evening air cool and calm. Iaa looked back at the doorway where her friends were. "We'll be separated soon."
"Yes," Jeet said. "But the bond you four share isn't easily broken. Maajaan chose you. It will call you back when the time is right."
She didn't know what to say to that. As the last light faded, she caught her reflection in the window—gold still faintly glowing beneath her skin. She didn't understand her power yet. None of them did. But she could feel it, deep inside—this wasn't the end. Just the pause before the next chapter.
And somewhere far away, in the ruins of the forest, a red spark flickered in the dark. The demon wasn't gone. Just waiting.