The night after Mukul vanished, the great house of the Sharmas and Yadavs fell into a silence heavier than stone. Every portrait in the hall seemed to mourn, every shadow whispered the absence of the youngest child. The boy of prophecy, the heartbeat of the family, was gone.
But grief did not weaken them. It forged vows—each elder member swore to search for him, no matter how many years it took, no matter what price they paid.
At the head stood General Raghav Sharma, his uniform crisp, his eyes hard. He gathered the family in the courtyard where the stars glimmered faintly. Raising his hand, he declared, "By every soldier under my command, by every battle I have fought, I vow that Mukul shall be found. If I must turn armies into shadows and sweep every corner of the earth, I will not rest until my grandson returns." His vow was a general's promise: relentless, iron-bound.
Beside him, Upasana Sharma, the fearless reporter, placed her palm on the ground. "The truth always reveals itself," she whispered. "By every word I have written, by every lie I have exposed, I vow to uncover the truth of where he has been taken. Even if I must pierce the world's darkest secrets, Mukul will come home."
Devendra Yadav, patriarch of the Yadav family, stepped forward, his voice thunderous. "By the strength of my political will, I swear that no nation, no leader, no conspiracy shall keep my grandson hidden. I will bend parties, parliaments, and borders until the world itself yields him back to us."
Dr. Ragini Yadav, his wife, stood serene yet unshakable. The greatest surgeon of her age pressed her hand to her chest. "By every life I have saved, by every life yet to save, I vow my knowledge and my years. If Mukul is wounded, I shall heal him. If he is lost, I shall guide him. I will not leave this world until I have looked into his eyes again."
The vows of the younger generation carried the same fire.
Rajesh Sharma, eldest son, clenched his fists. "By my oath as an officer, I swear the government's eyes and hands are mine to command. I will find the boy no matter how far the map stretches." His wife, Dr. Priya Yadav Sharma, stood beside him, her eyes wet yet unyielding. "By my scalpel, by my skill, by my very soul as a healer, I swear Mukul will live under my care again."
Rajendra Sharma, the diplomat, raised a glass of water and let it spill into the earth. "By every treaty I have signed and every war I have ended, I vow to search across nations. If Mukul is hidden beyond seas, I will bring him back with words or with war." His wife, Dr. Shalini Verma, pressed her hands together. "By the mysteries of the human mind, I swear to seek the truth behind this disappearance. No illusion, no trick of memory, will hide him from me."
The twin daughters, Sunita and Tanushree, made their vows together. Sunita, the judge, raised her gavel before the family altar. "By law, by justice, by the voice of truth, I will tear apart corruption and deceit until I know where Mukul is." Tanushree, the intelligence chief, placed her dagger on the ground. "By shadows and secrets, by every spy and whisperer at my command, I swear I will follow every trail, even into hell itself, to find my nephew." Their husbands, the Malhotra twins, touched swords together in silence, their vow unspoken but clear: to defend until Mukul's return.
Mukesh Sharma, the youngest, poured oil into the courtyard flame. "By every coin I earn, by every empire I build, I will fund the search until gold itself runs dry. Mukul will have the world waiting for him."
On the Yadav side, the vows burned no less fiercely.
Dr. Arvind Yadav, the cardiologist, touched his stethoscope. "By every beating heart, I swear Mukul's heartbeat will return to this house." His wife, Meera, added, "By every cure I pursue, no poison, no disease shall harm him when we find him."
Dr. Aarav Yadav, the pediatric surgeon, clasped his brother's hand. "By the children I heal, I swear Mukul will be safe, for he is my child as much as theirs." His wife, Ishita, whispered, "By every gene and discovery, I will chase destiny itself to return him."
Finally, Dr. Anamika Yadav knelt before the family shrine. "By the knives and threads I wield in surgery, I vow to cut through fate itself if I must. Mukul will live." Her husband, Justice Aditya Singh, placed his oath in thunderous words: "By justice itself, I vow. If the world conspires against Mukul, I will judge it guilty."
One by one, every hand was raised toward the night sky. The stars above flickered brighter, as if listening.
A child was missing. But a dynasty had sworn to find him.