The music from the wedding still echoed faintly through the fields as Kesar and her friends walked home, their anklets tinkling softly against the dusty path. The orange glow of dusk bathed the village in warmth, fireflies flickering like sparks in the distance.
Their laughter filled the air.
"Now that Meera's married, I'm next," one of the girls said dreamily. "I'll marry someone from the city—someone who'll take me far away from this village."
Another giggled, "And leave us behind? You traitor!"
Kesar smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You all talk as if marriage is an escape route," she teased lightly. "What if life out there is harder than the one here?"
Her friend nudged her shoulder. "Oh, come on, Kesar. You say that because no one's ever proposed to you."
Kesar laughed, the sound bright and confident. "Maybe I'm waiting for someone who can dance better than me—someone who can match my steps."
The girls burst into laughter again, their chatter fading into the wind. For a brief moment, the flame-shaped birthmark on Kesar's arm glowed faintly under the moonlight — unseen by anyone — before fading away again as if the night itself swallowed it.
The girls' laughter died abruptly when three silhouettes emerged from the shadows ahead, blocking their path. The men smirked, their eyes glinting wickedly under the flickering lantern light.
"Well, well… look who's walking home alone," one of them sneered. "Pretty girls shouldn't roam the streets after dark."
Kesar stepped forward, shielding her friends. Her tone was sharp yet calm.
"Move aside. You don't know who you're dealing with."
The leader laughed crudely. "Oh? And who are you, little firecracker?"
When he grabbed her friend's arm, Kesar's patience snapped.
"Let her go!" she shouted. Her palm ignited in an otherworldly glow — flames dancing over her skin like living fire. She seized his wrist; the man screamed, stumbling back as his arm smoked and blistered.
Her terrified friend clung to her.
"Kesar—!"
"Run!" Kesar ordered. "All of you, go!"
The three girls ran into the night, calling for help, while the remaining goons surrounded her.
"You shouldn't have done that," one growled.
Kesar's eyes blazed red-gold. "No… you shouldn't have attacked my friend."
The air shimmered around her — faint ripples of heat rising from the ground. Just then, from the darkness of the jungle, a pair of eyes watched her intently.
Suddenly, one goon struck her head from behind with a wooden stick. The flames vanished. Kesar staggered, her vision spinning — and collapsed.
A figure stepped out from the shadows, boots crunching softly on the dirt. He leaned casually against a stone stairway, smirking. His eyes glowed faintly crimson.
"Still the same fire," he murmured, voice deep and coldly amused. "But not tamed yet."
The moonlight revealed his face — Vihaan's face… but darker, sharper, alive with the arrogance of power once lost.
It was Sarvansh, the corrupted fragment of Vihaan's soul — the embodiment of his divine power, now free and dangerous.
He looked down at Kesar's unconscious form.
"So the fire awakens," he whispered with a smirk. "And soon, water will burn."
The night was silent except for the crackling of torches. The unconscious Kesar lay by the steps, her faintly glowing fire mark hidden beneath her sleeve.
The remaining goons stumbled back, staring at the man who had just emerged from the forest shadows. His presence was unnerving — eyes red like dying embers, a faint smile curving his lips.
One of the goons finally growled, "Who the hell are you?"
The stranger tilted his head, amused. "Who am I? Oh… your dad."
"What nonsense!" another snapped.
Sarvansh chuckled darkly. "Not nonsense. You see… some people are evil…" He took a slow step forward, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "…some are more evil…" His crimson eyes flared. "…but I—" his smile widened into a smirk "—I am the father of all evil. Which makes me your father."
The men exchanged uneasy glances.
"This guy's insane," one muttered.
Sarvansh's expression turned amused again. "Insane?" He raised a brow. "Who told you that?"
They charged at him with sticks — but before they could reach him, he snapped his fingers.
A wave of demonic energy surged through the air. The goons screamed as they were lifted off the ground, suspended midair — their limbs flailing helplessly. Their weapons dropped, clattering against the dirt.
Sarvansh looked up at them calmly, eyes glowing brighter. "Now, my children," he said mockingly, "tell me… do you still think I'm insane?"
The ground around him scorched, faint dark symbols spreading like veins in the soil. The air reeked of burning sulfur — the unmistakable presence of the dark Sarvansh reborn.