Across the Kothari mansion, shadows writhed unnaturally, stretching along the walls as if alive. Mohini's voice rose in dark, melodic incantations, each syllable curling through the air like living smoke, searing the senses with an icy dread. She lifted her head, eyes gleaming in the dim light. "The Sarvansh rises. The Pralay has arrived," she whispered, triumph dripping from every word. The dawn was near, and with it, a catastrophe that none could stop—unless Gauri succeeded.
The night wrapped the jungle in an almost suffocating darkness. Branches clawed at the sky, and shadows twisted like living things, slithering through the undergrowth. Each step Gauri took was careful, deliberate, her boots crunching softly against fallen leaves, her heart pounding as if trying to escape her chest.
Her hands trembled slightly around the knife at her waist, though she tried to steady them. The pendant against her chest pulsed faintly—a soft, warm glow reminding her that the jal mani was near. Somewhere ahead, it waited, its light invisible to the naked eye but alive in her senses.
She paused, inhaling sharply. A branch snapped behind her. Her breath caught, and her eyes darted through the darkness. Nothing moved. Only the wind whispered secrets through the trees, carrying the faint, ominous hum of Mohini's magic from the mansion behind her.
"She's waiting," Gauri murmured under her breath. "She knows I'm coming."
The forest seemed to respond, the shadows deepening, rustling unnaturally, as if testing her resolve. Every step forward felt heavier than the last, each movement a battle between fear and determination. Her mind raced: Vihaan, the family, the mani… the lives depending on her courage. She could not falter.
Then a faint glow appeared between the trees, soft and beckoning. Her pulse quickened. The mani… She took a deep breath, pushing aside the fear creeping along her spine. Branches whipped at her face and arms, leaves clinging to her hair and clothing, but she did not stop. Every step was a heartbeat of resolve.
A sudden rustle to her left made her spin, knife raised, eyes wide. Her instincts screamed danger, yet she forced herself to calm, whispering, "Focus… the mani is near. Don't let fear rule you."
The glowing pulse grew stronger as she moved closer. Her chest heaved, sweat mixing with the cool night air. Somewhere ahead, the jal mani awaited—its magic sensing Vihaan's rising peril. She felt it in her bones, a call she could not ignore.
And then she heard it—a faint, almost mocking laughter carried on the wind. Mohini. She knows I'm here… she's watching…
Gauri's grip on the knife tightened, and she lifted her chin. "Then let her watch," she whispered, her voice fierce despite the quiver in it. "Because I will succeed. I have to. For Vihaan… for the family… for all of them."
The forest seemed to tighten around her, branches swaying as if alive, testing her resolve, testing her courage. But with every step, every heartbeat, she pressed forward. The glow of the jal mani pulsed brighter, guiding her deeper into the jungle, toward destiny, toward danger, toward the fate she had sworn to face.
Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her eyes burned from the effort of holding back panic. Yet she did not falter. Not now. Not when the lives of everyone she loved depended on her bravery.
And in that suffocating, shadowed jungle, Gauri pressed on—a lone figure against the night, armed with courage, love, and the desperate hope that she could face whatever darkness awaited her, and return victorious.
Back in the mansion, the Pratham Diya flickered, its golden light barely holding against the rising power of Sarvansh. Sharda's eyes swept the room, calculating. Every heartbeat mattered. She picked up a plate of salad and held it lightly in front of him, her hands steady, her posture calm.
"Vihaan…" she began softly, tilting her head just slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. "…I made this for you."
His eyes lifted, narrowing as he studied her, the dark light of Sarvansh glinting in them.
"You… cooked for me?" His voice was low, slow, dangerous, but there was something curious in it too, a flicker of recognition that made Sharda's chest tighten.
"Yes," she said gently, taking a small step closer. "Do you remember… when I used to prepare it for you? Just for you?" She let her voice linger on the words, soft and nostalgic. "No one else ever got it quite right. Not even your mother… Veena. She doesn't know the secret touch I add."
Vihaan's lips twitched—not quite a smile, but something like it. "The secret touch…" he repeated, voice almost amused, as if tasting the memory. "You've been hiding little things from me all this time?"
Sharda's eyes sparkled, though she kept her calm, measured tone. "Perhaps," she said lightly, tilting her head. "But it was always for you… so that every bite would remind you of home. Of simpler times."
He leaned back slightly, his dark aura radiating like a storm held just at bay. "Do you think… such memories can sway Sarvansh?" His words were low, teasing, almost playful, but edged with menace.
Sharda stepped a little closer, holding the plate out as if offering it freely. "I don't know, my boy," she said softly. "But I do know that even monsters… even Sarvansh… can't resist something familiar. Something… comforting."
For the briefest instant, the mask of Sarvansh faltered. Vihaan's eyes glimmered, caught off guard by the warmth and intimacy of her gesture. Sharda held his gaze steadily, letting the weight of memory and subtle affection anchor him just enough to buy precious moments.