The moon hung crimson in the night sky, swollen like an omen. In the heart of the forest, fire crackled in a circle of black stones, its smoke heavy with venom and ash.
Kaamini screamed—not in pain but in triumph. Her hair writhed like serpents, her eyes glowed with witch-fire. She was Sarpdaayan—witch and serpent entwined, terror of both realms.
Her body heaved once, twice—then a child's wail split the night.
Kaamini lifted her newborn, her smile sharp as fangs.
"Sarvansh," she hissed, rocking him in her arms. "You carry my venom, my witchcraft, my soul. You are my key to immortality."
Unseen in the shadows, Ravikant Kothari pressed his back to a tree, every word stabbing into his chest. This was his son—his sin. He stumbled away, his heart breaking, already knowing what he must do.
---
Far from the forest, at the river's edge, another cry filled the air. A girl had been born in the humble hut of the Reevavanshis, sworn hunters of witches. Her skin shimmered faintly like moonlit ripples.
"A Jalpanchi," the midwife gasped, her voice trembling.
The child's mother wept with joy, but the joy did not last. An elder of the Prathamvansh entered, her eyes clouded with visions. Her voice carried the weight of fate itself.
"This girl will rise as light. She will guide the Sarvansh. And through her hand, the Daayan bloodline shall fall."
The mother's arms tightened. She knew a prophecy was as much a curse as a blessing. That night, she sealed away her daughter's powers, locking them deep within the child's soul until destiny chose to awaken them. With a heart torn in two, she placed the infant in a cradle of reeds and set her upon the river.
"Your name is Gauri," she whispered. "The goddess will guard you when I cannot."
The current carried the cradle into the moonlight, the child cooing softly as if the river itself sang to her.
But Kaamini's spies had already whispered of the Jalpanchi's birth. Before dawn, the Sarpdaayan descended on the Reevavanshi hut, her serpents hissing, her nails dripping venom. By sunrise, blood stained the earth, and Gauri's parents were no more.
That same night, Ravikant stood before his wife, broken. His voice trembled as he confessed everything—his sin, his weakness, the child Kaamini had claimed as her weapon.
"Veena," he begged, falling to his knees. "Save him. He is my son, but he does not deserve her fate."
Veena's heart twisted. Betrayal burned her, yet when he showed her picture of the infant he secretly took,she saw only innocence staring back. "If I save him," she whispered, "he will be mine, Ravikant. Not yours. Not hers."
Next scene
Ravikant's hands trembled as he wrote the letter, every stroke a betrayal that still burned his heart.
Kaamini… come tonight. Veena and my family have agreed to accept you, to welcome you with our son. At last, we will be united.
He sealed the note with shaking fingers. The lie cut deeper than any blade, but he told himself it was the only way. If Kaamini believed she was walking into acceptance, she would lower her guard. Only then could Veena and the Reevavanshi crystals hope to bind her.
When the Sarpdaayan arrived, her silken steps echoed in the marble hall. She carried Vihaan proudly.Her smile was sharp with triumph.
"So," she purred, "at last, your wife bends before me."
Veena stood waiting, the enchanted crystals clutched in her palms, her jaw tight with fury and fear.
"This is no welcome, Kaamini," she said coldly. "It is an ending."
Kaamini's eyes flared with betrayal, snapping to Ravikant. "You dare deceive me?"
Ravikant's voice cracked, but he stood firm. "I will not let you damn my son."
At that moment, footsteps thundered down the marble stair. Ravikant's younger brother and his wife appeared, their hands glowing with the same enchanted shards Veena held. Behind them came their mother, the matriarch of the Kotharis, her lips murmuring a sacred chant taught by the Reevavanshis.
"Now!" she cried.
The crystals flared to life, beams of pure light crossing the hall like chains. Kaamini shrieked as the glow seared her serpents, forcing them to retreat into her hair.
In the chaos, Veena lunged forward, ripping the infant from Kaamini's arms. The child cried, but she clutched him close, whispering, "You are safe now, my Vihaan."
Kaamini's fury shook the walls. Her nails lengthened into talons dripping venom as she fought against the crystal light. "You dare steal him from me? He is Sarvansh—he is mine!"
The crystals burned brighter, pinning Kaamini in place as her serpents writhed and screamed. Veena clutched Vihaan protectively, edging back toward the door.
Kaamini's stone-scaled arms strained against the glowing chains. Her eyes, once molten gold, now flickered with icy fury as they locked onto Ravikant.
"You… tricked me," she hissed, her voice splitting into a serpentine rasp. "You swore we would be united!"
Ravikant stepped closer, grief and resolve tearing through his face. "I had no choice, Kaamini. You wanted to damn our son—I chose to save him."
Her lips curled, half frozen, half alive. "Then you will never see him grow."
Before the light could seal her completely, Kaamini's hand shot forward like a viper's strike. Her clawed fingers pierced Ravikant's chest. He gasped, blood flooding his lips as she whispered in his ear:
"Your betrayal will be his curse."
Ravikant collapsed into his brother's arms, eyes glassy, voice faint. "Protect… Vihaan…" And then, he was gone.
The hall fell silent except for the baby's cry, echoing like a prophecy fulfilled.
And the Kotharis stood united tears in their eyes for ravikant death, their crystals trapping her in a tightening circle. Light crawled over her skin, hardening it, freezing it. Kaamini's scream turned to a hiss, then to silence as her body stiffened into cold, pale stone.
Her last words echoed in the chamber:
"He will come for me… Vihaan will wake me… and when he does, your world will drown in fire and fang!"
The hall still reeked of venom and smoke. The marble glistened with Ravikant's blood, and his body lay still beneath the chanting glow of the crystals. The Kotharis stood over the petrified Kaamini, her face frozen mid-scream, her serpents trapped in stone coils.
But though her body was stone, her presence lingered—a shiver in the air, a whisper crawling along the walls like unseen snakes.
The matriarch of the Kotharis pressed her trembling hands to the baby's forehead. Vihaan's cries quieted, his eyes glowing faintly gold for an instant before softening into human brown.
"The Daayan's venom is in him," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But so is Ravikant's blood. He is neither wholly cursed nor wholly pure."
Veena tightened her hold on the child. "He is mine now. I will raise him as a Kothari. He will never know her shadow."
The matriarch's eyes, old and wise, filled with warning. "You cannot chain destiny with love alone, Veena. The Sarpdaayan's last breath clung to him. Her curse will grow with him, like a serpent waiting to shed its skin."
Thunder rumbled outside as if echoing her words.
And in the forest, where stone Kaamini stood, faint cracks already lined her petrified fingers, glowing faintly with venomous light.