Delhi Streets – Near Lajpat Nagar, 8:47 PM
The auto rickshaw rattled down the narrow road, the city lights flickering through gaps in the canopied lane. Teju sat quietly, arms folded over her bag as "Savi" chatted lightly beside her about what gift she might get—a scarf, maybe a perfume, or something handmade.
But then—
Ping!
Teju's phone buzzed in her hand.
She glanced down at the notification and frowned.
Savi: Hey, where are you? Why haven't you come back to the hostel yet?
Her heart paused.
The Savi sitting next to her wasn't holding a phone. Wasn't even looking down.
Teju quickly typed:
Teju: Send me a selfie. Right now. From our room.
The reply was almost instant. A photo.
Savi. Sitting on their bunkbed. Dressed in the same hoodie she'd left in earlier, textbook sprawled open behind her.
Teju's hand began to tremble slightly as she looked at the girl next to her, who was now staring straight ahead—expression blank, eyes glassy.
Teju slid her phone into her pocket slowly and cleared her throat. "Bhaiya," she called to the auto driver, "please pull over."
No response.
"Bhaiya?" she repeated, louder this time.
The auto slowed. Jerked to a stop near a dim roadside stall.
Teju got up and stepped out, still glancing at the driver's figure—slumped strangely.
Something inside her warned—don't look... but look.
She leaned slightly forward—
And gasped.
The driver's eyes were wide open.
But lifeless.
Grey. Clouded. Skin pale.
Dead.
Yet the vehicle had driven itself.
Teju's chest tightened. Her breath caught.
Behind her, the girl stepped out silently.
Teju turned slowly.
Her voice barely above a whisper. "Who are you?"
The girl smiled.
But it wasn't Savi's smile.
It was wide. Sinister. Empty of warmth.
The girl stepped forward—and her form began to shimmer.
Hair grew longer, black as night. Nails sharpened like bone-tips. Skin turned dusky as ash.
And then—
Her feet.
Reversed. The toes curled backward into the gravel.
Teju stumbled back, her throat dry.
"What... what are you?!"
The creature grinned, her voice like cracked bells. "Sunehri."
Her eyes gleamed red beneath the moonlight. "Sunehri Daayan."
Teju's mind reeled. Her ears rang with the echo of one memory—
Her grandmother's voice, calm and old and always whispering at bedtime:
> "If you ever see a woman with feet turned backward... run, Teju. Because she's not a woman. She's a daayan."
She had laughed back then.
Said Dadi, daayans aren't real.
Now, her blood ran cold.
They were real.
And one was standing three feet in front of her.
Urvi's Farmhouse – Private Suite, 9:30 PM
The room was drenched in golden light. Soft silk curtains billowed in the breeze, and the air carried the subtle scent of roses mixed with something darker—something spiced.
Mihir stood by the full-length mirror, dressed in crisp white trousers and a loose white shirt, its buttons undone halfway down his chest. He looked effortlessly disheveled—like the beginning of a love song gone wrong.
He ran a hand through his hair, slightly damp from a recent splash of water, his expression somewhere between boredom and anticipation.
Then the door creaked open.
Urvi stepped in, draped in midnight blue satin that hugged her curves like liquid. Her hair fell over one shoulder in lazy waves, her eyes gleaming with intention.
Without a word, she turned toward the vintage record player in the corner and placed a vinyl on it. A slow, sultry jazz number drifted through the room—low saxophone notes curling like smoke around them.
Urvi swayed to the rhythm, her hips moving in deliberate, slow motion.
Mihir raised a brow, amused. "We're doing this now?"
She didn't answer.
She danced toward him, twirling once—then let her fingertips graze down his chest, following the path of his open shirt. Mihir's breath hitched, and his smirk deepened, arousal flickering in his eyes.
Urvi leaned in close—lips just brushing his cheek, but never landing—before she moved to the bar counter behind him.
She picked up a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket and popped the cork effortlessly.
As she turned her back to Mihir, her other hand slipped a faint grey vial from the satin sash at her waist. A single drop—thick and inky—fell into his glass.
It dissolved instantly.
She smiled, the kind that never touched her eyes.
Turning back around, she sauntered over, holding both glasses.
"Let's toast," she whispered, easing onto the couch beside him, her thigh brushing his.
"To the night," Mihir said, taking the glass without suspicion.
He took one sip, then two.
Urvi leaned in, her fingers tracing his collarbone. Their faces hovered close—breath mingling, lips about to meet.
But then—
His fingers loosened.
The champagne glass slid from his grip and clattered to the rug.
"Mihir?" Urvi whispered.
His eyes fluttered. His body slumped slightly into her.
"Mihir?" she repeated—now smiling wider.
His breathing slowed.
His head fell against her shoulder.
Completely unconscious.
Urvi tilted his face toward her and placed a soft kiss on his lips—not of affection, but of possession.
She whispered, "Perfect."
Her eyes gleamed not with desire—but with victory.
Because Mihir Kashyap was now exactly where she wanted him.
And the night had only just begun.
Urvi's Farmhouse – Secret Corridor, 10:05 PM
The hallway outside Urvi's private suite remained quiet, drowned beneath the beat of music and clinking glasses from the party outside.
Inside, Mihir lay still on the velvet settee—his head lolling, chest rising in steady, drugged breaths.
Urvi moved swiftly now—gone was the seductress, replaced by a calculating shadow.
She opened the ornate wardrobe at the far end of the room, revealing not clothes but a hidden door—narrow and carved into the very bones of the old farmhouse. It creaked slightly as she pushed it open, revealing a dim stone corridor leading underground.
"I told you this party would be fun," she whispered, brushing her fingers over Mihir's cheek before hoisting him upward with alarming strength for her frame. She threw one of his arms over her shoulders, supporting his weight as she guided him through the secret passage.
Torch-like sconces flickered to life with her touch—enchanted flames lighting her path.
Every few steps, Mihir stirred faintly but never woke.
Urvi smirked. "Sleep, baby. You'll be wide awake when it matters most."
---
Main Hall, Moments Earlier
Maira stood at the edge of the crowd, her eyes scanning every corner of the ballroom.
Something was wrong.
Her locket hadn't pulsed since the earlier witch circle, but a strange emptiness had settled in her chest—as if someone had snatched the wind from the air.
She hadn't seen Mihir in over twenty minutes.
She approached one of the bartenders. "Have you seen Mihir Kashyap?"
The guy blinked. "He was here earlier, with that woman in blue. They left together, I think."
Maira's stomach sank. "Left? Through the front gate?"
He shook his head. "Didn't see them exit. Maybe upstairs?"
But Maira was already moving.
Room by room she searched—through the guest lounge, poolside lounge chairs, and hallways. Nothing. No sign of Mihir. Not even Urvi's perfume, which had earlier lingered everywhere.
She stormed toward the guest suites, calling his name under her breath.
Then her pendant glowed. Once. Then again. Weak, like a fading pulse.
Maira froze.
Her eyes turned toward the far side of the farmhouse—the wall where Urvi's suite sat.
She sprinted.
Bursting into Urvi's room, she found it—
Empty.
No Mihir. No Urvi.
Only a half-filled glass of champagne on the floor... and a faint trail of moisture leading toward the wardrobe.
Maira's breath caught.
She approached slowly, and opened the ornate wooden doors.
Nothing but silk gowns... until her fingers brushed the back panel.
A cold breeze struck her face.
Her eyes widened.
"A secret passage."
She didn't hesitate.
Maira pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight and ducked inside.
---
Underground Tunnel
Far ahead, Urvi's footsteps echoed as she dragged Mihir deeper into the dark.
But just behind her—unseen and quiet—Maira had entered the maze.
And though the locket around her neck flickered uncertainly, her resolve had never burned brighter.
Whatever Urvi was planning... she was going to stop it.
Even if it meant facing darkness alone.