In the dimly lit basement, the shadows stretched long. Gauri burst in, breathless, her eyes locking on the figure leaning lazily against a cage bar.
"Sarvansh," she said, voice shaking. "You must come with me. Kesar will kill you otherwise."
Sarvansh smirked, brushing dust off his sleeve as if her words were mere noise. "Let her try. She's lost control—once my powers return, she'll crawl back, begging forgiveness."
Veena, standing nearby with a lamp in hand, snapped in disbelief. "You heartless creature! Even now you mock her pain?"
Sarvansh's eyes glinted, half amused, half dark. "Pain? She was a pawn. I gave her a taste of my world—she couldn't handle it."
Gauri stepped closer, fury flashing in her eyes. "You're wrong. She loved you. That's why her pain burns so deep."
She clenched her fists. "And if you truly want to survive, you'll have to face that pain."
Sarvansh tilted his head, curiosity flickering for a moment. "And what does your saintly heart suggest I do?"
"Merge," Gauri said softly, her tone trembling between resolve and sorrow. "Merge with Vihaan before your shared soul destroys you both."
Sarvansh's smirk faltered—just slightly—as if the words struck something deep within him.
Then he laughed, low and dangerous. "You think you can force me to become him? Never. I was born from his darkness. I am what he hides."
Gauri's voice broke. "Then maybe it's time you faced what he hides—and what you fear."
Their eyes locked—his with defiance, hers with desperate faith—while upstairs, the mansion trembled again under the sound of Kesar's cry, a shriek that split the air like thunder.
The sun hung low but not yet soft—gold dust still clung to the sky as Yug and Charvi reached a quiet corner of Kesar's village. A row of neat cottages stood in silence, each with flowering pots by the windows and the faint smell of cooked lentils wafting through the air. The calm belied the urgency burning in their veins.
They stopped before a cream-painted cottage with a small porch and a blue wind chime that tinkled faintly in the breeze. Yug glanced at Charvi, nodding once before knocking firmly.
The door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman in a faded green sari—her hair tied in a rough bun, her eyes cautious but sharp.
"Yes? Who are you two?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
Yug straightened. "We've come for Kesar's bird," he said evenly.
The woman froze. "Kesar sent you?" she asked, her tone unreadable.
"Yes," Charvi replied softly. "She's in danger. We need her bird to help her."
The woman—Surekha—hesitated for a moment, then gave a stiff smile. "If that's so, come inside."
They followed her in. The house looked modest but well-kept: the faint hum of a ceiling fan, a shelf filled with brass idols, and a photo of Kesar as a child tucked beside them. There was warmth in the room, but beneath it—a tension too thick to ignore.
"Wait here," Surekha said, disappearing into the bedroom.
Yug's voice dropped to a whisper. "Something's off. Be ready."
Moments later, Surekha returned—no longer calm. Her husband, Surya, came out beside her, holding a polished shotgun. Surekha's smile was gone.
"You shouldn't have come," Surya said coldly. "That bird is ours now."
Charvi's brows knit. "Yours? It was never yours! That bird is a part of Kesar—her spirit, her bond to life!"
Surekha's face hardened. "That bird was the only thing that made her listen. We raised her, fed her, and she repaid us by running away. She owes us."
Yug's temper flared. "You kept her in chains! That's not love—that's greed!"
Surya cocked the gun, his jaw tight. "You have till three to leave, or you won't walk out of this house."
Before Yug could move, the wind outside shifted—violent, sudden. The blue wind chime spun wildly, its gentle music turning sharp and hollow.
A chill swept through the cottage, and the lights flickered. The scent of lentils turned to iron.
Then came a whisper—soft, echoing—followed by a shape forming in the doorway. Mist rolled across the floor, and through it stepped Adrija. Her pale eyes glowed faintly, her dark hair floating as if underwater.
Her voice slithered through the air. "How touching… everyone chasing one small, helpless bird."
Surekha's hands trembled on the gun. "Who—who are you?"
Adrija smiled, her expression both beautiful and terrifying. "Someone who hears what others try to hide. I heard its wings calling."
Yug instinctively moved in front of Charvi. "She's not here for us," he murmured. "She's here for the bird."
Adrija's eyes gleamed. "Clever boy." She tilted her head slightly, her gaze drifting toward the back room. "I can feel its pulse… burning… waiting to be freed."
Surya lifted the gun, but before he could fire, Adrija's smile faded. Her face went blank—then dark.
"Then let it scream with me."
Her mouth opened wider than humanly possible, and a horrifying sound tore through the cottage—a scream that shook the walls, rattled the idols, and shattered every piece of glass in the room.
Charvi clutched her ears, falling to her knees, while Yug pulled her close, shielding her with his body as the air itself seemed to rupture.
The wind chime outside twisted into a spiral, the sound warping into silence—
and Adrija's scream filled the world.