Suman's eyes, sharp and discerning, softened as she looked at Vedshree. "I have always trusted your judgment, Vedshree," she said, her voice steady. "If you believe they can help… then we must go. But… we must be cautious. We do not know what awaits us."
Vedshree nodded, pulling a small locket from beneath her saree. Its smooth, cold surface pressed into her palm, grounding her. She had carried it for weeks now, waiting for the right moment. This locket was not just jewelry—it was a lifeline. It had been given to her by Divya herself, a conduit to summon her when the time came.
"We must do this carefully," Vedshree murmured, holding the locket close. "I will call her. You stay close. Observe. Nothing else matters tonight."
Suman inclined her head in silent agreement. Vedshree closed her eyes and whispered the words Divya had taught her, slow, deliberate, reverent. The locket vibrated faintly in her hand, a subtle hum that seemed to harmonize with the night around them. The wind stilled. Even the rustle of leaves seemed to pause, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
And then, as if materializing from the darkness itself, Divya appeared. Calm, imposing, and radiating an air of authority, she stepped forward. Behind her, Avinash followed, his eyes sharp, scanning the surroundings with measured attention.
Vedshree's heart thudded in her chest. She rose immediately, bowing slightly before embracing Divya. "Divya… thank you… thank you for coming," she whispered, her voice tight with emotion.
Divya returned the embrace briefly, then stepped back, her eyes locking onto Vedshree's with a piercing clarity. "Tell me everything," she said softly but firmly. "Every detail. The smallest signs can reveal the greatest truths."
Vedshree drew a deep breath, steadying herself. "Since Mohana arrived… since Rajeev's death… the house has changed. Lamps blacken without reason. Flowers that were fresh… wither overnight. Rajeev… he grew weak. Then he died… mysteriously. And Mohana… she disappears at night. Always alone. We don't know where she goes, but…" Vedshree swallowed, her throat tight. "…the air itself feels poisoned in her presence."
Suman, standing slightly behind Vedshree, spoke next, her voice calm but firm. "And there are more signs. Footprints that sometimes appear reversed, sometimes normal. The house… it seems to obey her. The servants… they fear her presence."
Divya listened without interruption, her eyes narrowing slightly, taking in every word, every pause. Avinash's hand rested lightly on the hilt of the dagger at his waist, a subtle but unmistakable signal of readiness.
"This is serious," Divya said finally, her voice measured. "And you acted correctly by contacting us. The first step is to confirm her nature. For that…" She reached into a small pouch at her side and drew out a fine, silvery dust, glimmering faintly in the dim light. She held it up so that the moonlight caught its shimmer.
"This is Saarpmani dust," Divya explained, letting the words fall slowly, deliberately. "It is sacred, ancient, and powerful. When sprinkled in every corner of a house—thresholds, doorways, windows, altars—it compels a daayan to reveal her true nature. If Mohana is what you suspect, the dust will force her truth to the surface."
Vedshree's hands trembled slightly as she took the packet, the grains almost vibrating in her palms. "Every corner?" she asked, her voice steady despite the fear threading through it.
Divya nodded. "Every corner. You must not confront her directly. Darkness is patient. It watches. It waits. The dust forces her hand, but you must observe, quietly, carefully, without hesitation. Even the smallest error can cost dearly."
Suman stepped closer to Vedshree, placing a reassuring hand lightly on her shoulder. "Then we do this together," she said. "I will follow your lead, Vedshree. You guide us. I trust you."
Vedshree inclined her head, humbled by her sister-in-law's trust and calm presence. "We will protect the house. We will protect the family. And we will uncover the truth. Tonight… we begin."
Divya's hand rested gently on Vedshree's shoulder, grounding her. "You are strong, Vedshree. That is why you were chosen. But remember… witches like Mohana are patient, clever, and observant. She will test your every move, your every thought. Stay vigilant. Observe her carefully. When she shows even a flicker of her true self… act wisely, and with caution."
The garden fell silent. Even the wind seemed to still, waiting. Vedshree and Suman turned toward the mansion, their resolve hardening with every step. The responsibility pressed heavily on their shoulders, the weight of Rajeev's death, the unborn child, and the entire household looming over them.
Vedshree clutched the packet of Saarpmani dust, feeling the centuries of Reevavanshi training and knowledge, the lives of generations, pressing against her palms. "We have no choice," she whispered, glancing at Suman. "We must see the truth… for Rajeev, for the baby, for the house, and for the family."
Suman's hand rested lightly on Vedshree's, a quiet anchor in the tense night. "Then we do this… together."
And as the two women stepped closer to the darkened mansion, the house seemed to watch, holding its breath. Somewhere inside, Mohana moved silently, unaware that the first threads of suspicion, carefully spun by Vedshree, were already tightening around her.
The night stretched endlessly. The lamps along the corridor flickered faintly as if testing them. The flowers in the courtyard trembled in the breeze, wilting imperceptibly. And the mansion, once silent and mourning, waited for the first confrontation between light and the darkness that had claimed it.
To be continued…