The afternoon light had barely begun to fade when the sky cracked open with a violent rumble. Clouds rolled over the Kothari mansion, dark and turbulent, swallowing the last traces of sunlight. The air itself seemed to freeze, heavy with the scent of burnt incense and danger.
From that darkness, she emerged—Manmohini, the Pralay Daayan. Her eyes gleamed gold, her braid slithering like a serpent hungry for blood. Behind her, a swarm of daayans floated—pale, snarling, their laughter echoing through the courtyard.
"Vihaaan…" Mohini's voice stretched, honeyed and venomous. "You've escaped death once. Let's see how long Bholenath saves you this time."
Far away, in the ethereal sanctum of Pratham Vansh, the air shimmered with divine energy. The ancient stone pillars glowed faintly, each etched with celestial runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. The waters of the sacred pool rippled though no wind blew, as if disturbed by a vision unseen.
Pratham Vanshi stood before the pool, her silver robes trailing across the marble floor. Her eyes closed for a moment, then opened—golden light flickering within them as visions of the mortal realm danced across the water's surface.
The reflection showed the storm over the Kothari mansion, the merging of Vihaan and Sarvansh, and the descent of the Pralay Daayans. The air around her trembled with unease.
A younger wise woman stepped forward timidly. "Pratham Vanshi… the balance trembles again?"
Pratham Vanshi's gaze darkened. "The balance is not trembling," she said softly, her voice echoing like wind through hollow halls. "It is shifting."
Her eyes fixed on the image of Gauri, standing hand in hand with Vihaan, unaware of the chaos soon to unfold.
"The Jalpanchi's life," she murmured, "is about to take a turn none can undo."
The pool flared, showing flashes—Gauri's tears, Vihaan's shadowed face, fire and water clashing in a storm of destiny.
"She will soon have to fight," Pratham Vanshi whispered, her tone heavy with sorrow. "Not against her enemies… but against the one she loves."
The other women exchanged anxious glances as the sacred flames flickered blue.
Pratham Vanshi turned away from the vision, her expression solemn. "The prophecy awakens. What was written in the tides of fate will now begin."
Lightning illuminated the pool once more—showing Gauri's reflection fading into darkness.
And somewhere, deep beneath the rising storm, destiny began to turn its wheel again.
Meanwhile at the kothari mansion
But Vihaan didn't flinch. He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Gauri stood firm, her palms pressed together in divine defiance. The rest of the family—Sharda, Urvashi, Veena, Charvi, and Dadi—formed a protective line behind them.
Gauri's voice rang clear across the courtyard.
"Just as Savitri fought Yama for her husband's life, I brought Vihaan back. He carries the strength of light and shadow now. You cannot touch him."
Sharda joined her, raising her hand toward the sky.
"Daayans cannot harm those protected by dharma!"
Urvashi echoed sharply, "This house is not yours to claim, Manmohini. Leave before you're banished again!"
Even Dadi's trembling voice carried strength.
"You lost once to love, and you'll lose again!"
But Mohini only smirked. "Love?" she sneered. "That's what you call this illusion?"
Before anyone could react, Vihaan began walking toward her—slow, deliberate, his eyes unreadable. The family tensed, expecting him to strike.
Instead, to everyone's horror… Vihaan bent down and touched Mohini's feet.
"Vihaan!" Gauri's cry tore through the silence.
He rose slowly, and when he did—his gaze was no longer the Vihaan they knew. It was darker. Emptier. Sarvansh's shadow glimmered behind his eyes.
"Mother," Vihaan said softly, addressing Mohini. "Forgive me for being late."
A ripple of dread passed through the courtyard. Sharda's hands shook. Urvashi's voice quivered. "No… this isn't you, Vihaan. You're our son."
But Vihaan ignored them all. He turned to Mohini and gestured toward the mansion.
"Come inside. You deserve your rightful place."
The daayans parted as he led Mohini through the doorway. The Kothari family followed in stunned silence, their footsteps echoing in disbelief.
Inside, Mohini smiled cruelly, pulling out a glowing thread—the same one Vihaan and Sarvansh had once held. Its strands shimmered dark crimson.
"This," she said, "is the Daayan Dori. The thread of binding—not of souls, but of servitude. The one who holds this belongs to me."
The realization hit Gauri like lightning. "No…" she whispered. "You switched it. During the ritual—you switched the thread!"
Mohini's laughter was low and triumphant.
"And now your precious Vihaan is mine. What stands before you isn't your husband anymore—it's the shadow that obeys me."
"Vihaan!" Gauri cried, stepping forward, her eyes glistening with tears. "Please, look at me. You're stronger than her magic. You're my Vihaan!"
But Vihaan didn't move. His silence was colder than ice.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he hurled Gauri's belongings from her room.
"This house is no longer yours," he said flatly. "Leave before I make you."
Veena's scream broke the air. "No! You can't do this to her!"
She grabbed a knife from the fruit bowl and lunged at Mohini, rage trembling through her veins. But Mohini was faster—her braid shot forward, wrapping around Veena's wrist and twisting it until the blade clattered to the floor.
"Pathetic mortals," Mohini hissed, her eyes glowing. "You think you can harm me?"
Her palm rose, charged with dark fire—about to strike Veena down.
But before the spell could land, a burst of silver light filled the hall. Gauri stepped between them, her swirling chakram blazing with divine energy. The weapon spun in her hand like a shield of destiny, its edge humming with power.
"If you dare touch her," Gauri warned, her voice low and fierce, "I swear by the same god who gave you power—I'll end it."
The chakram's glow intensified, its edges sparking against Mohini's aura. The two forces collided—darkness against devotion, shadow against light—as the entire mansion trembled in the weight of their coming war.