The ground beneath Mohana cracked again—this time deeper, louder, as if the very island was rejecting her presence.
Yuvaan and Kiara stepped back from her weakening form, still holding the baby between them protectively.
Behind them, Vikram and Varun exchanged a grim look.
They knew what had to be done.
Without a word, both Father-son duo reached into the satchel of protective relics Vikram always carried during hunts.
Their fingers dipped into the golden sand—the sacred Suvrata Raksha-Reti, used only for binding the darkest beings.
They walked in slow, deliberate steps around the weakened daayan.
The sand poured in two graceful arcs, forming a perfect glowing circle—warm gold against the trembling earth.
The moment the circle closed, a pulse of light rippled outward like a heartbeat.
Mohana flinched.
Her powers recoiled violently.
She was trapped.
Her voice cracked into a mixture of rage and disbelief.
"You think this pathetic sand can hold me?"
But her attempt to rise failed.
Her knees buckled.
The silver anklet glowed brighter.
Her braid slithered, powerless and limp.
Kiara stepped forward, her baby against her chest, eyes filled not with fear—but fire.
"You've spent your life tearing families apart," she said quietly, every word sharpened by pain and courage.
"You thought darkness made you invincible."
Yuvaan stood beside her, shoulders squared, gaze steady.
"But look at you now," he said. "Your power meant nothing the moment you touched what you could never understand—love. You call it weakness. But it's the one thing that will always outlive monsters like you."
Mohana's breath shook.
Her white hair clung to her face as she glared at them.
"You insolent children…"
Kiara's voice softened, but the steel remained.
"Evil can win battles. But it never wins the ending."
A violent tremor shook the island.
Rocks tumbled into the sea.
Palm trees cracked.
The entire landmass tilted like a sinking ship.
Vikram shouted above the rising roar.
"We need to leave—NOW! The island won't last ten more minutes!"
Varun was already gathering weapons.
Aakash and Vinod lifted Moti Baa carefully.
Bhoomi and Riddhi secured the boat ropes.
Angad steadied Kajal, who was still half-shifted, panting from battle.
Everyone moved with urgency but also with the shared pain of what they'd just survived.
The boat rocked violently as they boarded.
Kiara stepped in last, cradling her son as if holding the last piece of her soul.
Yuvaan helped her sit, then wrapped one arm around both of them, anchoring them against his chest as the storm winds pulled at their clothes and hair.
The family crowded close—not out of fear, but out of sheer relief.
Bhoomi touched the baby's cheek, tears glistening.
"He's a miracle…"
Riddhi leaned over from her seat.
"He's the reason we fought today."
Even Vikram—stern, iron-hearted Vikram—softened.
His voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"He looks like our Yuvaan… and yet… something divine in him."
Kiara smiled weakly, exhaustion and love blending on her face.
"He saved us too."
The boat pushed off just as another slice of the island sank beneath the waves.
The golden sand circle around Mohana cracked, but still held.
She struggled to her feet inside it, waves rising behind her, her silhouette framed by the sinking land.
Her voice carried across the water—broken, furious, echoing like a curse and a promise.
"This is NOT the end…
I will rise again…
Your child—your precious miracle—will be MINE.
I WILL RETURN!"
The last chunk of land collapsed under her.
Water swallowed her form.
The golden circle sank with her.
The sea closed.
Silence.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Only the baby let out a soft, tiny cry—just one.
Kiara kissed his forehead.
Yuvaan pressed his cheek against Kiara's hair.
And the family, battered but alive, watched the island disappear into the depths.
The world felt strangely quiet.
But also—strangely hopeful.
Their fight wasn't over.
But their miracle was safe.
For now.
The boat creaked softly as it slid through the calm waters, the storm now a distant memory, leaving nothing but an eerie silence in its wake.
Yuvaan held Kiara close, his hand gently resting on her shoulder as she clutched their son, still wrapped in the cloth that had once been his lifeline. His tiny face, still wet from the sea, was now peaceful in his mother's arms. His little chest rose and fell with each soft breath.
Kiara's eyes never left the baby—those eyes that had seen so much darkness, so much fear. But now, in the silence, they held only hope.
Yuvaan couldn't find the words. Every time he tried, his throat tightened. He looked down at their son, his heart swelling with an emotion he didn't quite understand—so intense, so raw.
"Yuvaan…" Kiara's voice, soft and full of awe, broke through his thoughts. "Look at him… he's ours."
Yuvaan nodded, but there were no words to explain the flood of emotion inside him. The world had been crashing around them. And yet here they were—alive, together, with a child of their own.
A new chapter.
He squeezed her hand.
"We're home now," he whispered.
The boat neared the shore, the familiar silhouette of the Pratap Singh mansion coming into view against the setting sun.
The mansion was calm, untouched by the storm, its grand structure standing tall and proud. The wind whispered through the trees that lined the estate, carrying with it the promise of peace.
As they disembarked, the family—still battered but victorious—was already there waiting. Vikram stood tall, as always, his eyes searching them both as they made their way up the shore.
Varun stood beside him, his usually calm demeanor replaced by something deeper—something that had been forged in the battles they'd fought together.
Angad, Bhoomi, and the others gathered around them. A soft, collective exhale filled the air as they saw the baby—alive, well, in Kiara's arms.
"You did it," Varun murmured, his voice barely audible. "You really did it."
Kiara looked at him, her lips trembling as she spoke, "We did it. Together."
"Together…" Yuvaan echoed, the weight of the word hanging between them, a promise to never break again.
As they made their way back to the mansion, the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of gold and purple. The warmth of the evening wrapped around them, soothing their battered souls.