The moonlight spilled gently through the curtains, casting a soft silver glow across the room. The storm of the day had passed, but the silence that followed carried its own weight — heavy and thoughtful.
Gauri entered quietly, a tray balanced carefully in her hands. The faint aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the air. Vihaan stood by the window, his gaze lost in the night sky, where the stars shimmered faintly — as though the heavens themselves were watching over them.
"Here," Gauri said softly, stepping closer. "Have a cup of Gauri's special tea."
Vihaan turned slightly, managing a faint smile as he took the cup from her. "Thank you."
She picked up the other cup, setting the tray aside on the small table. Then, with that gentle, knowing look in her eyes, she asked, "Why are you so quiet, Vihaan? You look… worried. As if something's still troubling you."
Vihaan let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening around the cup. "Of course I'm worried, Gauri," he admitted, his voice low, almost breaking. "Today, we almost lost our family. It was a close call — too close."
Gauri nodded quietly, her expression softening. "True," she murmured.
He turned to face her, his crimson eyes dim under the soft light. "You know, I thought that after Kamini's death, our family would finally be safe. That the darkness was behind us. But now… there's another enemy out there, someone powerful — someone who wants to hurt us again."
His voice trembled slightly. "Sometimes I wonder… am I the reason all this happens? Every curse, every danger — it always comes back to me."
Gauri's expression changed — from concern to fierce tenderness. She took a step closer, placing her hand gently on his arm.
"You're wrong, Vihaan," she said, her tone steady but warm. "You are not the reason for the danger — you're the reason we survive it. You're the one who always protects this family, no matter the cost."
Vihaan met her gaze, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased.
Gauri smiled faintly. "And I believe that as long as the Lord is with us — no evil, no darkness, no enemy — will ever truly harm us or our family."
Vihaan's eyes softened, the weight in his chest slowly lifting. He looked at her — his anchor, his light — and for the first time that day, he felt peace.
The two stood by the window, side by side, their cups of tea growing cold as the night wrapped around them — silent, calm, and deceptively serene.
"Now stop worrying," Gauri said softly, setting the steaming cup on the low table with a small clink. She folded her hands over his and smiled, steady as a promise. "Have your tea. We will find out who this enemy is. Together."
Vihaan tried to answer, but the warmth of the cup and the steadiness in her voice loosened the knot in his chest. He sipped, breathed, and let himself be steadied by the ordinary weight of porcelain and the extraordinary steadiness of her hand in his.
Far away under a sky that had never known warmth, the lunar fort was a ring of ice and shadow. Moonlight pooled into a throne carved from frozen light, and from that throne Laila—red-moon princess of the crescent court—rose like frost freed from glass. Her robe whispered; the staff in her hand drank the dim air and made it dense.
"Who dared to break my moon?" she demanded, her voice a cold bell in the silent hall.
A shadow moved through the columns, and Veer stepped forward as though the floor welcomed him. He bowed, but the bow was a blade.
"I can tell you," he said, and the words carried like a promise and a threat.
Laila's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
Veer smiled, a slight, dangerous curl. "Who I am is not important." He held up his palm and the air shivered—images unfurled like the surface of a pond. He painted them with his will: the red moon sundered, the tidal chakram cutting through ice, Vihaan and Gauri locked in that ferocious, luminous strike.
Laila leaned forward. "Who are they?"
"My enemies," Veer said simply. "Jalpanchi and Sarvansh."
She tasted the names, and a thin, cruel smile pulled at her lips. "Kamini's son," she said, amusement threading the words. "And the river-born God gift—together."
Veer's voice was colder than the frost at his boots. "Strange, isn't it? Two lines destined to clash, wound each other, die… and instead they joined. Lovers, of all things."
Laila's laugh was small and sharp. "Enough romance. The moon is broken. The law is clear for anyone who dares to break my red moon,the punishment for that is..."
"Death," Veer finished for her, watching the expression flicker across the frozen princess's face—surprise, then hunger. "Exactly. And that is why I will help you."
Laila fixed him with a stare that unmade warmth. "Why would you help me?"
He stepped closer until the moonlight braided his shadow with hers. "Because I want them dead."
Silence wrapped them for a heartbeat—thin, fierce—and then Laila nodded as if a bargain had just been named in smoke and frost.