Night. 2:00 AM. The forest is silent.
A girl walks alone along the empty road. Her footsteps echo in the stillness. From high up on a tree, someone—or something—is watching her silently.
She reaches the location where the tragic incident happened. The place is empty now. Only a few empty water bottles and yellow police tape remain, left behind by the media and officers who were there earlier in the day.
She looks around, carefully scanning the area. Her eyes stop at the exact spot where the boy and his mother were found dead.
Slowly, she walks to that place and sits down on the ground. No one is there, but she can feel something heavy in the air.
She closes her eyes. The wind grows cold. A thin fog begins to appear, curling around her like smoke.
Suddenly, a soft whisper reaches her ear—a cry.
Startled, Mahi opens her eyes and turns around quickly.
Behind her, glowing faintly in the fog, stands a white aura—the soul of the woman who died, the mother of the boy. She is crying silently, her face full of pain and loss.
Mahi stood still, uncertain. She looked around the dark forest, her breath visible in the cold air. Then, her eyes returned to the glowing soul of the woman—grieving, broken, but eerily silent.
Cautiously, Mahi stepped forward and asked, "W–What happened here?"
The soul whispered in a trembling voice, "They took him..."
Mahi's brows furrowed in confusion. "Took who? Who are they?"
The soul's red eyes locked onto Mahi's. They burned with fury and sorrow. Her voice cracked as she whispered again, "My baby… They took him."
Mahi, now deeply alert, stepped closer. "Who? Tell me, who took your child?"
The soul slowly raised her hand and pointed toward the dense jungle. "Behind that lake… That's where they took him..." she whispered.
Mahi pressed further, desperate. "Can you help us find him? Help us stop them?"
But the soul shook her head, whispering faintly, "I can't..."
Then, without another word, she turned and began to walk slowly toward the jungle.
Mahi followed, her curiosity building. The soul halted suddenly and looked down at the ground. Mahi stepped beside her and glanced where the soul was staring.
Something glowed faintly under the moonlight—a ring of white powder, arranged in an ancient pattern. Mahi crouched and touched it. The powder was cool… and pulsed faintly with energy.
Suddenly, a voice came from outside the circle.
"It's a boundary. She can't cross it."
Startled, Mahi looked up.
It was Rohan, standing a few feet away, watching the soul with calm eyes.
Mahi stood slowly, looking from Rohan to the weeping soul.
"This… this is magic," she murmured.
Rohan nodded, his voice steady.
"Yes. And someone doesn't want her to leave this place."
The crying soul began to fade, her form dissolving like mist in the cold air. Mahi watched, her chest tightening.
She turned to Rohan.
"Can you cross it?"
Rohan stepped closer, eyes on the glowing powder circle.
"Somehow... yes. I'm not bound like her."
He paused.
"But I don't know much about black magic. This looks like a prison—someone trapped her here."
Mahi kept her gaze on him.
"Someone took her child..."
Rohan looked at her, then slowly corrected:
"The child is dead. What they took… might be his soul."
Mahi's expression shifted from confusion to horror.
"And the man? The father?"
Rohan nodded grimly.
"He's missing. Taken alive."
A long silence followed as the fog swirled again between them. The magical boundary still glowed faintly on the ground, holding the soul back—and holding secrets deeper than either of them expected.
Mahi walked slowly toward her parked car, lost in thought about the soul they had just seen.
Rohan walked beside her in silence for a moment, then asked,
"What was the clue that brought you to Manali?"
Mahi kept her eyes forward.
"Same pattern… They killed a woman and a child. But this time, they took the child's soul and trapped the mother's."
She paused, thinking deeply.
"The pattern is changing."
They reached the car. Mahi stood still, staring back at the spot where the soul had vanished.
Suddenly, a loud voice came from behind the car.
"That was the third case here... and you're not scared of that unknown beast?"
Rohan turned, surprised—it was Suryavanshi.
But Suryavanshi couldn't see Rohan. He was talking to Mahi.
Mahi looked at him calmly.
"Hi, I'm Mahi. I was just passing through."
Suryavanshi studied her.
"Do you know what happened here last night?"
Mahi kept her face calm, showing no emotion.
"I was just getting some fresh air, sir," she replied casually.
Suryavanshi took two steps closer, his sharp eyes fixed on her.
"Mahi... You helped Raju and Rohan with the Kadambari case, right? To catch Sakharam?"
Mahi's breath caught for a second, but she didn't let it show.
She looked back at him, calm but alert—trying to decide what to say next.
Rohan stood silently next to Mahi, his eyes fixed on Suryavanshi.
He whispered softly, only Mahi could hear:
"He's a good man... still haunted by my death."
Suryavanshi's voice broke the silence.
"So, you remember what happened that night?"
Mahi nodded slightly and replied in a calm tone:
"Yes. When I reached there, I saw Sakharam and Raju unconscious on the ground. I called a police constable nearby and handed them over. Later, they found Rohan's body. That's all I know."
Rohan smiled faintly, standing beside Mahi.
"He won't believe you," he whispered, "Just pretending he does."
Mahi heard him but stayed silent. She opened the car door calmly.
Suryavanshi watched her, unconvinced. His voice was firm but casual.
"So… what do you think about this case?"
Mahi looked at him, surprised.
"Wh-What do you mean, sir?"
Suryavanshi didn't answer right away. He pulled a cigarette packet from his pocket, took one out, lit it, and walked a few steps toward the spot where the soul had appeared.
He exhaled smoke, eyes on the forest.
"Do you believe the stories these villagers tell?"
Rohan smiled faintly, watching Mahi.
Mahi, confused, kept her eyes on Suryavanshi.
"I don't know, sir. I never spoke to the villagers," she replied.
Suryavanshi nodded slowly, the smoke from his cigarette curling in the cold air.
"They say it's some magical monster," he said quietly.
"A punishment. For hurting their local deity... Cutting trees around the forest."
Mahi's eyes narrowed. She remembered a newspaper article from a few days ago—about a new jungle resort in Manali.
"Is this about the jungle resort project?" she asked.
Suryavanshi took a deep drag from his cigarette, then replied.
"Yes. That project has been stopped. The man who went missing..."
He paused.
"He was the lead architect for that resort."
He turned slowly, staring at the dark patch near the forest edge where the soul had appeared.
"And he was my friend."
Suryavanshi stood still, eyes fixed on the forest's shadowy edge. The smoke from his cigarette drifted into the cold mountain air.
Without turning, he asked in a low, steady voice:
"Tell me, Mahi… do you have powers like Rohan?"
Mahi froze.
She glanced at Rohan, who stood silently beside her, expression unreadable.
Her voice came out calm but cautious:
"I don't know what you mean, sir."
Suryavanshi's jaw clenched.
He threw the cigarette to the ground, crushed it under his boot with quiet frustration, and muttered to himself—
"Wish Rohan could be alive…"
The words hung heavy in the air.
Mahi looked away, her throat tightening.
Beside her, Rohan—now only a silent shadow—watched the man who once led him, the man still mourning him.
His eyes softened.
But he said nothing.
Mahi quietly got into her car, the weight of the conversation settling on her shoulders. She started the engine and drove off, the headlights cutting through the misty forest road as she made her way back to the hotel.
On the other side, Suryavanshi climbed into his police van. He didn't say a word. His driver glanced at him, sensed the mood, and silently started the engine. The vehicle moved slowly through the night-shrouded road.
Hovering above them, unseen, Rohan watched both—his gaze lingering on Suryavanshi's worn face and Mahi's distant expression through the windshield.
His eyes softened.
The man's eyes fluttered open to pitch darkness—damp, cold, and echoing. His body ached. As he tried to move, he realized his leg was injured—badly. Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself toward a faint shimmer of light at the cave's mouth.
With great effort, he pulled himself out. The jungle opened before him—vast, green, and eerily silent. Mist rolled across the hills. He called out, "Help! Anybody!"
No answer. Only the rustling of leaves.
Then—drip.
Warm liquid hit his cheek.
He looked up slowly.
High above the cave, crouched on a ledge, was a shadowy figure—feral, hunched, gnawing on a live chicken. Blood dripped from its claws.
The man's breath caught. Eyes wide with primal terror.
The figure stopped eating.
And turned its head.
Straight at him.