The salty breeze tugged at Varun's hair as he stepped onto the creaking wooden platform of the magical seaport. Lanterns swayed gently, casting flickering shadows over the water, which glimmered with a strange, otherworldly light. Beings of all kinds moved around him—some human, some not. Their eyes shimmered with hidden power, their movements deliberate, purposeful.
Varun's hand tightened around the strap of his bag, the magical backpack humming softly with contained energy. He reached into a small pouch and dropped a few glittering coins into the merchant's hand. The coins vanished in a flash of golden light, accepted without a word, the transaction as seamless as magic itself.
The merchant gave a curt nod, and Varun boarded the waiting ship. The deck creaked beneath his boots, the sails snapping softly in the wind. Around him, other passengers were whispering quietly, exchanging secrets of their own worlds, yet none seemed to notice him. The aura-concealing locket around his neck shimmered faintly, hiding him from prying supernatural eyes.
He leaned against the railing for a moment, watching the magical waters ripple and sparkle, letting the sounds of the harbor settle in his mind. The map in his hands glowed softly, the lines shifting and twisting as it guided him forward.
Dilruba. Nine years. The thought had haunted him for nearly a decade. She had vanished after the Great Eclipse War, leaving a void in his heart he could never ignore. He traced the glowing path on the map with a finger, a quiet determination hardening in his eyes.
No matter what it took, he would find her. He would cross seas, forests, and shadows. He would confront whatever danger lay ahead. Time had given him skill, patience, and resolve—but not mercy. Dilruba's trail would not elude him this time.
With a deep breath, Varun stepped fully onto the deck, gripping the railing as the ship began to glide away from the port. The supernatural beings around him chattered in low tones, unaware of the hunter hidden among them. And somewhere ahead, through mist and magic, the next path awaited him.
Yuvaan paused at the edge of the drawing room, his expression serious yet tinged with relief. "Thank you, Rani… for informing me about all this," he said quietly, his gaze fixed on her. There was an unspoken weight in his voice, a mix of gratitude and trust he rarely extended.
Rani's lips curved into a gentle, almost motherly smile. "Of course, Yuvaan," she said softly, her voice smooth as silk. "Kiaan is like my own son. I would never want him to follow the paths of lies. It's for his own good, really."
Yuvaan nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "I appreciate it," he murmured, turning toward the staircase. "I need to check on a few things… but this helps more than you know."
As he disappeared up the steps, Rani's eyes lingered on the doorway, a faint smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Mission accomplished," she whispered to herself, her tone a mixture of satisfaction and hidden triumph. The room seemed to darken around her, the shadows stretching like silent accomplices to her scheme.
She straightened, adjusting her posture to perfect poise, her smile unchanged. To anyone watching, she was the concerned, caring figure Yuvaan had come to rely on. But beneath that mask, her thoughts raced, plotting the next move carefully, ensuring that Kiaan remained unwittingly within her grasp.
Yuvaan's Room — Late Afternoon
The door clicked shut behind him with a soft finality.
Yuvaan stood still for a moment, fingers curled loosely around the doorknob… as if the last thread of strength in him lived there.
Then, slowly, he exhaled—a shaky breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
He stepped inside.
The room was dim, quiet, the curtains half-drawn. The fading sun painted faint amber lines across the walls, landing softly on the framed photograph placed on the bedside table.
Kiara.
Her smile—gentle, luminous—felt like a whisper from another life.
Yuvaan walked toward the photo with slow, heavy steps. Every movement felt like wading through memories he hadn't yet learned to stop drowning in.
He sat on the edge of the bed… elbows on his knees… head bowed for a long, silent moment.
Then he lifted the frame.
His thumb brushed along Kiara's cheek in the picture—a touch that trembled.
"Kiara…"
The name left him in a breath more fragile than sound.
He swallowed hard, his eyes stinging.
"You must be thinking…" he whispered, voice cracking, "…why I scold him so much. Why I behave like this with our little champ."
He forced a tiny smile—broken at the edges.
"You know I don't want to," he said slowly, taking little pauses between each confession, as if each word carried weight. "Every time I raise my voice… every time I look into those big, scared eyes of his… something inside me just…"
He drew a long breath, steadying himself. "…breaks."
The silence around him deepened.
"But I have to, Kiara."
His grip on the frame tightened, knuckles whitening.
"I have to be strict. I have to be strong. If I don't guide him now… if I don't teach him what's right…"
His voice faltered.
"…what if life becomes harsher to him later?"
His shoulders trembled once—brief but undeniable.
"He lost you."
His voice turned raw.
"He already lost the softness… the warmth… everything you would've given him."
His eyes glistened.
"So I… I try to be both."
A painful smile touched his lips.
"His mother's gentleness… and his father's discipline."
He looked away… just for a second… because the weight of it all pressed too hard.
"And today…"
Another pause—long, suffocating.
"…today he lied. For the first time. And it scared me, Kiara. It scared me because I don't ever want him to drift to a place where I can't protect him."
A tear finally slid down, silent.
"But the truth is…"
He laughed a small, broken laugh.
"…sometimes I feel like I'm the one drifting."
The room felt too quiet.
Too still.
"I just…"
His fingers traced the frame again.
"…I just wish you were here. To show me how to do this right. To tell me if I'm doing enough… or if I'm ruining everything."
His voice fell to a whisper.
"I miss you… every second. And I'm trying, Kiara. I really am. For him. For us."
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the photo frame… closing his eyes as if hoping to feel her warmth through the cold glass.
The pain, the love, the loneliness—everything pulsed around him in slow, aching waves.