As laughter and music continued to echo through the hall, Gauri quietly slipped away from the crowd. The golden light of diyas flickered behind her as she walked toward a corner where a garlanded photo rested — her young parents, Vedika and Dev, frozen forever in time, smiling through the frame.
She knelt before the portrait, her fingers trembling as she lit a small diya, placing it gently at their feet. The flame shimmered, reflecting in her teary eyes.
"Happy Diwali, Maa… Papa," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the crackle of the wick.
"I don't remember much about you," she admitted softly, "I was too little when life took you away. But it's only because of your sacrifice that I'm here today. That's why… I'll always include you — in my joy, my sorrow, my everything. Because you are my heart."
Her words lingered in the still air, echoing like a prayer.
Suddenly, a hand brushed away her tear. Gauri turned — Vihaan stood behind her, his expression tender. Without a word, he knelt beside her, joining his hands in silent homage to her parents.
Then, with a gentle smile, he said, "Uncle, Aunty… please scold your daughter. Tell her today is a day of joy — not tears."
Gauri sniffled, then let out a small laugh through her emotion. "You'll never let me be serious for a minute, will you?"
Vihaan smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I can't bear to see tears in your eyes, Gauri. I promise… I'll give you every happiness you've ever missed."
Her heart swelled. Together, they bowed before the photo once more, seeking blessings from the two faces that had given them their strength.
The diya flickered brighter for a moment — as if the departed souls had smiled in silent approval.
Far away from the golden lights of the Kothari mansion, the night air over Pratham Vansh turned heavy.
A faint red mist curled above the ancient river, and the reflection of the moon rippled — darkening into shades of crimson.
Pratham Vanshi, seated cross-legged before the sacred pool, suddenly opened her eyes.
The once-clear water churned violently before her, and a faint tremor ran through the ground.
Her attendants — the other elder women of the Vansh — exchanged anxious looks.
"What's happening, Pratham Vanshi?" one whispered.
Pratham Vanshi's eyes glowed faintly, her tone grave.
"Someone is disturbing the balance…" she said slowly, her gaze fixed on the blood-tinged water. "I sense an aura rising — one that calls to the dead."
The pool flared red, and flickering images appeared across its surface — graves trembling, fog slithering like serpents, and a dark figure standing amidst them with a wicked smile.
"Kamini has been destroyed," Pratham Vanshi murmured, her brows tightening. "Then who dares summon such power again?"
The elders looked to her, fear lacing their faces.
Pratham Vanshi rose, her robe sweeping across the stone floor.
"This energy… it is unlike anything I've felt before," she whispered. "A shadow darker than Kamini's curse is moving — and it's coming for the Kotharis."
The flames around the pool suddenly flickered and went out, leaving only the crimson reflection of the moon — and the echo of distant thunder.
The ground quaked under Veer's feet as the ritual reached its peak. His smirk deepened — eyes shut, hands raised — feeling the surge of forbidden energy answering his call.
The once-still graves began to pulse with dull crimson light, and thick tendrils of dark fog snaked their way out, spiraling toward him like loyal subjects. The entire cemetery reeked of decay and power, the air heavy with the scent of burnt iron.
The Naashak's aura expanded, forming a swirling vortex around him. The cries of restless souls echoed faintly through the night — wails that rose and broke like waves against the darkness.
Veer's voice turned guttural, inhuman, as he whispered the final chant.
The fog suddenly flared, a dark flame twisting into the shape of demonic silhouettes bowing before him.
His lips curved into a mad grin.
"Perfect," he murmured under his breath, his tone dripping with cruel satisfaction.
The sky above him dimmed unnaturally — even the moonlight seemed to wither. He lowered his arms slowly, his eyes burning with red fire as he watched the fog spread outward, drifting in the direction of the Kothari mansion.
Veer exhaled, almost peacefully.
"Let the celebration begin," he whispered with a low chuckle — and his laughter echoed through the cemetery, mingling with the shrill cry of the dead.