Urvi let out a low laugh that slithered through the chamber like smoke. Her eyes glowed a cruel crimson as she watched Kiara steady herself after the backflip. There was no hurry in her movements, no rush, only the satisfied grace of a predator that believed the hunt was already won.
She tilted her head, the long braid swaying like a serpent.
"You and Yuvaan," she said softly, "are still pretending to be warriors. Still clinging to some forgotten glory. You lost your powers. You lost what made you special. And now you think you can save your son."
Her smile deepened, cold and triumphant.
"Face it, Kiara. You will not reach him. Not today. Not ever."
The words struck Kiara like shards of ice, but the freeze lasted only for a breath. Something deeper began to crack through her—a tremor, small at first, then growing, spreading, anchoring itself into every muscle of her body. She looked past Urvi, toward the cradle where little Kiaan's tiny chest shuddered with helpless cries. His sobs echoed off the stone walls, fragile and sharp.
Kiara inhaled slowly.
The world narrowed to a single point.
Her fear softened, melted, and then hardened into something diamond-pure.
When she lifted her gaze again, Urvi took a single step back without meaning to.
Kiara spoke, her voice quiet, almost tender.
"You think I need power to protect my child."
For a moment there was nothing but the crackle of dying embers and Kiaan's broken hiccupping cries. Kiara walked forward, each step grounded, steady, ancient in its determination—as if mothers through centuries were walking with her.
"I am no longer Jishwa," she murmured. "And Yuvaan is no longer the Warlock King. That much is true. But you are mistaken if you think that makes us weaker. You are mistaken if you think magic was the only strength we ever had."
Her words deepened, carrying an ache and a fire that made the air throb.
"Powers fade. Titles crumble. Crowns are taken. But the moment a child is placed in your arms, something else is born. Something that does not disappear when kingdoms fall."
She touched her own chest lightly.
"Parents rise. Not from magic, but from love so fierce it can quiet storms. From a devotion so stubborn it survives every darkness thrown at it. From a strength that appears in the bones when the world tries to take your child from your hands."
Urvi's jaw tightened, but Kiara continued, voice rising like the first push of a gathering hurricane.
"You call yourself powerful. You boast about spells and darkness and rituals. But you forget the oldest truth of all. A mother and a father do not fight with magic. They fight with themselves. With everything they are. With everything they are willing to break or become."
Her voice trembled now, not from weakness, but from something too full, too overflowing.
"And I will break the world before I let you touch my son. I will walk through fire. I will bleed, I will fall, I will get up again. Because he is mine. Because he is ours. And no curse you cast, no ritual you perform, no whip of shadow you unleash will ever match the strength that lives in a parent's heart."
She raised her bow again.
The torchlight clung to her face like gold.
Kiara's final words came out soft, steady, and devastating.
"You are strong, Urvi. But you are not a parent. And that is why you will lose."
The air between them tightened like the pull of a bowstring.
And Kiara, no longer queen, no longer vessel, no longer chosen one—
stood there glowing with a strength that was older than magic itself.
While Kiara's words echoed through the chamber like a vow carved into stone, Yuvaan was fighting with a storm inside him.
Ratri and Nishi circled him like wolves. Shadows clung to their fingers, ready to slice into him, ready to end him. They thought they were hunting him.
They did not realize he had already become the monster they should fear.
Yuvaan's breaths came slow… too slow for a man in battle. His shoulders rose and fell with a kind of calm that felt wrong, unnerving, like the moment before lightning hits the earth. His eyes were no longer the warm brown Kiara loved. They were colder, darker… touched by something feral that had slept inside him for years.
Nishi lunged first, thinking she could catch him off guard.
She was wrong.
Yuvaan didn't step back.
He stepped into her attack.
His hand shot up, catching her wrist mid-air with a force that made her bones crack. Nishi screamed, but the sound was swallowed when Yuvaan jerked her toward him—hard.
Before Ratri could strike from behind, Yuvaan twisted, catching her wrist too. Both witches froze, trapped, breathless, their claws inches from his throat but completely useless.
Yuvaan looked at them as if they were already defeated.
A slow, cold smile curved at the edge of his lips. Not kind. Not gentle. Not heroic.
This was the smile of a man who had crossed into something darker because someone dared touch his child.
"You should not," he whispered, voice low and edged like a blade, "have taken my son."
Ratri tried to slash at him with her free hand.
Nishi tried to conjure dark runes with her fingers.
Yuvaan tightened his grip.
A sickening crack rang out as both witches cried out in shock, their arms locked in his iron hold.
His voice deepened into something that didn't sound fully human.
"You think I lost power. You think I am weaker. But I do not need magic to break you."
He inhaled once, steady.
Then with a surge of raw strength—
a strength born from fury, terror, love, and something darker threading through each emotion—
he flung them.
Ratri and Nishi soared across the chamber, their bodies slamming into a stone wall with a bone-shaking crash. Dust rained from above, cracks split through the ancient bricks, and both witches collapsed to the floor, gasping, stunned, their pride shattered along with the pillars they hit.
Yuvaan stood there, chest heaving, sword gleaming, jaw clenched.
For a moment, the entire chamber seemed to hold its breath.
He looked like a man who had walked through hell—
And come back carrying its fire in his veins.