Delhi – Present Day
The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the Kashyap mansion's prayer room. Brass lamps flickered, their flames dancing with the hush of early morning. Sapna Kashyap stood before her deities, her eyes closed, her hands folded.
"Bhagwan," she whispered, "you've given me two sons—two blessings. But they've become strangers to each other."
She lit the diya, its golden glow reflecting in her moist eyes.
"Sahir is so calm... so grounded. His heart beats for justice. Especially for women. And Mihir—he burns like wildfire. Fast, reckless... unreachable."
As the prayer bells chimed softly, the scene shifted.
---
At a College Auditorium
Professor Sahir Kashyap stood at the lectern, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his voice calm but piercing.
"Equality is not a favor men bestow on women. It is a truth—one long denied."
A student raised his hand, frowning. "Sir, women and men are biologically different. You can't say they're equal."
Sahir smiled. "Ah, but difference does not mean inequality. Women have carried civilizations on their backs—in silence. Strength isn't always in muscle. It's in endurance. Empathy. Intelligence. Resolve."
A girl at the back whispered, "He speaks like it's poetry."
Another nodded. "He makes you believe."
Unseen outside the hall, the sky began to shift—a faint darkening in the west.
---
Delhi – Race Track
Engines roared. Tires screamed. Mihir Kashyap sliced through the finish line like a bolt of lightning. The crowd erupted. His sleeveless shirt clung to his frame, hair damp and tousled. Adrenaline surged through his veins.
His female competitor pulled up, furious.
Mihir smirked, pulling off his helmet. "This is why I hate racing girls. No thrill, no chase."
The words hit like a slap. She walked away, seething. Mihir didn't look back.
Two brothers. One with reverence. One with rebellion.
---
Back at the Kashyap Mansion
Sapna sat quietly, her voice now a whisper to the heavens.
"They are drifting... like the sun and moon. I can feel something coming. Something that could tear us apart."
Outside, the wind stirred uneasily.
---
Old Delhi – Market Streets
"I'm dead. Grandma's gonna roast me!"
Maira darted between shoppers, her braid bouncing. She halted at a trinket stall, eyes locking on a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.
"How much?"
"Two thousand," said the shopkeeper.
"What?! I could get one for half that in Chandni Chowk!"
They haggled with familiar ease.
"Uncle Ji," she teased, "you really don't remember my name?"
The man laughed. "Maira, right? Alright, fine. ₹1,500."
She beamed, pocketing the pendant. "You're learning."
As she ran off, a faint rumble echoed in the distance—thunder without clouds.
Bandhap Village – Bridal Chamber
Tejaswini sat before an antique mirror, the weight of bridal jewelry digging into her skin. Crimson lehenga. Gold around her neck. Eyes... uncertain.
Her reflection didn't look like her. It looked like someone else—a doll dressed for someone else's dream.
Her gaze drifted to the worn medical textbook tucked behind a flower vase. Her fingers itched to touch it, to open it, to remember.
Her father's voice echoed in her memory:
"Choose, Tejaswini. Marry Raj and secure your future, or chase this doctor nonsense and walk out of this house forever."
Tears welled up.
Behind her, the door creaked open. Her mother, Ojas, entered—shoulders stiff, voice gentle.
"You don't have to do this, beta," Ojas said, stepping beside her. "Raj isn't right for you. He's not who you think he is."
Tejaswini's eyes brimmed. "But Papa—he'll disown me."
"Let him," Ojas whispered, pressing her forehead to her daughter's. "I'd rather lose his approval than watch you lose your life."
Tejaswini turned, stunned. "Are you saying I should run?"
Ojas nodded. "Yes. Run, Teju. You still have a choice. I will help you. We'll find a way."
For the first time in weeks, Tejaswini inhaled deeply—as if breathing had returned to her body. She turned toward the window. The moon had begun to bleed.
The Sky Above – Eclipse Begins
In Delhi, Maira paused as the bustling street fell into a strange hush. She tilted her head up—where once the sun had shone, now a shadow spread, dark and deep.
At the race track, Mihir froze mid-sip from a water bottle, his gaze pulled to the sky. His pupils dilated unnaturally, flickering crimson for a moment.
At the college gates, Sahir shielded his eyes, watching the eclipse without knowing that his own were beginning to shimmer faintly.
In Bandhap, bells tolled. Villagers poured into temples, flinging marigolds and lighting camphor, their voices rising in fear.
And in her bridal chamber, Tejaswini stood by the window, her reflection forgotten. She stared at the eclipsed moon as a chill rippled through her body.
"Why does it feel," she whispered, "like something is waking up?"
Voiceover:
"When the light retreats and the sun turns its face away, destinies begin to shift. What was written may be undone. What slept beneath the surface... begins to rise."
The solar eclipse had begun its slow descent over the day, casting a strange pall over the sky. The sun, once blazing in the heavens, dimmed to a ghostly disk.
Maira's voice was barely above a whisper as she turned to her friend. "I don't know why, but I feel like everything is going to change after this eclipse."
Her friend nodded in agreement, but Maira's mind was already elsewhere. "I need to go check on Nana," she said, quickening her pace.
As she hurried home, the eerie light filtering through the half-eclipsed sun cast long, flickering shadows behind her. The unease inside her grew, like a silent drumbeat building in her chest. What if something happened to Nana?
Her sandals slapped the pavement as she picked up her pace.
When she reached home, the door creaked open beneath her touch. "Nana? Nana, where are you?" she called out, her voice trembling.
Only silence answered.
Panic rose.
Maira rushed toward her grandmother's room-and nearly collided into her.
Relief surged. "Nana!"
Kailashi smiled, calm and grounded as always. "I'm right here, beta."
Maira threw her arms around her, trembling. "I was so worried about you."
Kailashi ran her fingers through Maira's hair. "I'm fine, dear. But what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Maira pulled back slightly, her face serious. "Nana, I have this bad feeling about the eclipse. Like something's off."
Kailashi's expression turned grave, eyes reflecting something ancient. "Your fears are justified, beti. Something is indeed stirring."
Maira's heart quickened. "What do you mean?"
Kailashi lowered her voice. "They are gathering under the shadow of this eclipse."
Maira blinked. "Who, Nana?"
Kailashi's voice chilled the air. "The Daayans."
Maira's breath caught. Childhood stories returned-whispers of witches who consumed souls, extended their lives through fear, and lived between death and shadow.
"The Daayans?"
Kailashi nodded. "They are real, and they are coming."
Maira swallowed hard. "Why now?"
"To free their leader," Kailashi said, her voice barely audible. "Ekaayan Daayan Mohana... Freedom."
The name echoed through Maira's bones. Something deep in her soul stirred-an instinctual terror.
At the Kashyap Mansion
The sky outside had darkened to an unnatural twilight. Shadows pooled across the courtyard like spilled ink.
Sapna's gaze remained locked on the eclipse. "I'm getting a bad feeling about Mihir and Sahir," she whispered.
Uma, ever composed, placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Sapna. It's just an eclipse."
But Moti Baa stood near the temple bell, her eyes sharp. "We need to call them home. It's not safe."
Akhil reached into his kurta pocket and pulled out his phone. "I'll call Sahir."
Moti Baa's voice echoed low. "Yes, beta. Bring our boys back before the darkness takes hold."
The call connected after a few rings.
"Sahir, beta, where are you?" Akhil asked, tension in every word. "Your mom's been worried sick."
Sahir's voice came steady. "I'm at the college ground, chachu. I'll come home right away. Please tell mom not to worry."
Akhil exhaled. "Okay. Be careful. Drive safe."
He ended the call, but the unease in his chest did not lift.
At the Forest's Edge
Far from city lights, where the jungle swallowed sound and light, shadows moved. They were robed and silent, their forms blurred as though the earth itself wanted to reject their presence.
The eclipse reached its peak.
A jagged cave yawned before them like a wound in the forest floor. The witches-the Daayans-stood in formation, their eyes glowing faintly in the shifting twilight.
They began to move, one by one, into the darkness.
As they vanished into the cave, a pulse rippled through the earth-cold, ancient, malevolent.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
The Daayans had returned.
And somewhere within the cave, something older than death stirred in response.
Voiceover:
"As the sun bows to shadow and the veil grows thin, forgotten evils awaken. The day of Mohana's return begins-not in thunder, but in whispers."