The car raced through the dark countryside, its headlights slicing through the thickening fog that seemed to follow them. The festive echoes of the Kothari mansion had faded far behind — replaced by an uneasy silence that clung to the air.
Gauri held Vihaan's hand tightly, her other hand gripping the window ledge. The mist swirled strangely around them, almost alive.
"Vihaan," she whispered, "this fog… it's the same as the one that entered the mansion."
"I know," he replied grimly. "It's not natural. And if what Sharda Ma said is true, then only Pratham Vanshi can help us now."
Moments later, the car turned onto a secluded path, lined with ancient trees whose twisted branches loomed like guardians of a forgotten world. At the end stood a small stone cottage — faintly glowing with a golden aura.
Vihaan parked the car, and the two stepped out cautiously. The night air here was different — dense with the hum of old power.
Inside the cottage, Pratham Vanshi sat before a sacred flame, her silver hair flowing over her shoulders like threads of moonlight. Her eyes opened slowly as if she had been waiting all along.
"I've been expecting you both," she said calmly, her voice echoing with ancient strength. "The winds whispered your arrival."
Gauri and Vihaan exchanged a startled glance.
Pratham Vanshi rose gracefully, her gaze deep and knowing. "Tell me… did Charvi deliver my message?"
Both of them froze. Gauri's heart sank as memories flashed before her —
Charvi running up to her during the Diwali preparations, a flicker of worry in her eyes.
"Didi, I… I want to tell you something—"
Then Gauri busy with arrangements tells Charvi to wait and the moment was lost.
.
Gauri looked down. "She tried to tell us something," she admitted softly, "but when I asked her later, she said she couldn't remember."
Pratham Vanshi's expression darkened. "So he's already begun," she murmured under her breath.
Vihaan stepped forward. "Who are you talking about? What do you mean by he?"
Pratham Vanshi turned toward the sacred flame, her reflection flickering within it.
"You have a new enemy — one unlike any you've faced before," she said gravely. "Someone who walks in shadow, yet commands the power of the dead."
Vihaan's eyes narrowed. "A new enemy? But who?"
"I haven't discovered his true name yet," Pratham Vanshi admitted, "but his energy… it reeks of decay and betrayal. And it's growing stronger even now."
Gauri's breath caught. "Then the fog— the guests—"
Pratham Vanshi nodded. "Yes. They are no longer themselves. They have become Walkers — living bodies possessed by the aura of the dead. Their souls are trapped, their will stolen."
Vihaan's fists clenched, crimson light flickering faintly around him. "Then we have to stop this — right now."
Pratham Vanshi's gaze softened. "Yes, my children. You must save them. But remember — the dead obey no one easily. Whoever controls them wields a power born of darkness itself. Be cautious."
Gauri stepped closer, her voice firm but laced with worry. "We'll bring them back, Vanshiji. All of them. I promise."
Pratham Vanshi looked at her — pride and fear reflected in her eyes.
"I know you will, Gauri. You both carry the light. But beware…"
Her voice lowered, echoing through the flickering cottage.
"The deeper this darkness runs, the closer it comes to home."
Vihaan and Gauri exchanged a heavy look, realizing what that meant.
The battle wasn't far away anymore — it had already begun within their own walls.
The sacred flame flickered wildly, its glow painting ripples of gold across Pratham Vanshi's weathered face.
She moved toward an ancient scroll resting on a stone pedestal and slowly unrolled it. The map upon it was drawn in faded crimson ink — symbols, runes, and a mountain crowned by a bell etched at the top.
Pratham Vanshi's voice carried the weight of prophecy.
"To heal the Walkers," she began, "you must awaken the Bell of Paanchgiri — a divine relic forged by the guardians of both light and death. When rung with pure intent, its vibration severs the connection between the living and the dead, freeing all trapped souls."
Gauri's eyes widened. "Paanchgiri… that's the mythic hill near the valley where the two rivers meet, isn't it?"
Pratham Vanshi nodded solemnly. "Yes, the hill was blessed by the goddess herself. But the path that leads there has long been cursed. The forest surrounding Paanchgiri is haunted by the blood demon — Raktabeej."
Vihaan frowned, his crimson aura flickering faintly in response. "Raktabeej? I've read legends of him… the one whose every drop of blood births another like him."
"The same," Pratham Vanshi confirmed gravely. "He was once destroyed, but his essence could never be erased. His spirit lingers in the forest, feeding on fear and trespassers. No mortal or magic has crossed those woods unharmed in centuries."
Gauri swallowed hard. "Then how can we reach the bell?"
Pratham Vanshi looked at her, eyes glowing faintly with divine fire.
"You both can, because your powers are bound to the elements that oppose him. Vihaan's crimson flame — the energy of destruction. Gauri's water — the force of purification. Together, you can balance the curse of blood and silence his regeneration… if you remain united."
Vihaan took Gauri's hand, his expression set with quiet determination. "We'll go. Whatever it takes, we'll bring everyone back."
Pratham Vanshi stepped closer, placing her hand gently on their heads in blessing.
"Then go before the night deepens. The fog will spread soon beyond your home. Remember — the Bell will only ring for those whose hearts are untainted by vengeance."
Gauri looked up, her voice steady. "We will not fail, Vanshiji."
The sacred flame suddenly flared, casting a blinding light as if blessing their vow.
And as they turned to leave, Pratham Vanshi's final words echoed behind them — soft but haunting:
"Beware the forest of Raktabeej… for every step taken in fear shall multiply your doom."