Mohana lifted her arm slowly, deliberately, as if commanding the night itself to listen.
From the darkness behind her, fire bled into shape.
A bird emerged—its feathers crimson as fresh blood, eyes glowing like dying embers. Its wings unfurled with a shrill cry that cut through the battlefield, sharp and unnatural.
"Laal Chakor," Mohana whispered, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. "Go."
The bird leapt from her hand, slicing through the eclipsed sky, circling once before shooting upward like a living flame.
"Search every shadow," Mohana commanded, her voice echoing unnaturally. "Every tunnel. Every root. Every breath of this land. Find the Rivanshi."
She laughed softly, cruel and certain. "She cannot escape. I have stationed my daayans at every exit of Reevavansh. The forest itself answers to me tonight."
Her red eyes narrowed. "Bring her to me."
The bird vanished into the clouds.
---
Divya ran.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she clutched her child tightly against her chest, the secret passage twisting endlessly ahead. The walls felt closer now, as if the earth itself were tightening around her.
"Shh… shh, gudiya," she whispered desperately, pressing her lips to the child's forehead. "We are almost there… please…"
The passage opened suddenly into the forest.
Moonlight—darkened by eclipse—spilled across the clearing.
And then—
They stepped out.
Divya froze.
Figures emerged from the shadows, one after another, forming a cruel circle around her. Their eyes glowed sickly yellow, their smiles sharp with hunger.
Daayans.
"So this is where you were running," one hissed, her voice layered and distorted. "The chosen one… wrapped in mortal arms."
Divya staggered back, heart pounding. "Stay back," she warned, though her voice trembled. "Don't come near my child."
The daayans laughed.
Dark energy gathered in their palms, swirling into dense black orbs that pulsed with malevolence.
"End this," another sneered. "The Rivanshi dies tonight."
The black magic balls shot forward.
Divya screamed, turning instinctively, shielding the child with her body—
And then—
Light.
From beneath the cloth wrapped around the baby's arm, a golden glow burst forth.
The OM mark blazed.
The air shuddered.
The black orbs froze midair, trembling violently as if struck by an unseen force. The forest fell into sudden, absolute silence.
The daayans' laughter died on their lips.
"What—what is this?" one whispered, panic bleeding into her voice.
The golden light intensified, pure and blinding. The frozen black magic began to tremble… crack… distort.
Then—
It reversed.
The orbs hurtled back with terrifying speed.
Screams tore through the clearing as the daayans were struck by their own darkness, their bodies disintegrating into ash, their cries swallowed by the forest.
Silence returned.
Divya stood frozen, tears streaming down her face, staring at the space where the daayans had stood moments ago.
The glow faded.
The OM mark dimmed, settling once more into the child's skin.
The baby stirred softly, unaware.
Divya fell to her knees, clutching her daughter to her chest, sobbing—fear, relief, awe crashing through her all at once.
"You…" she whispered, her voice shaking. "You protected us…"
Far away, high above the forest, the Laal Chakor screeched—its cry echoing ominously through the eclipsed sky.
The hunt was not over.
But the world had just witnessed its first mistake.
Divya ran until her legs betrayed her.
The forest thinned, opening toward the edge of the land where earth met endless water. The sea lay ahead—dark, vast, breathing softly under the eclipsed sky. Waves rolled in slow, heavy rhythms, as if aware of what was about to be lost to them.
Divya stopped.
Not because she was tired.
Because she understood.
Her breath shuddered as she looked down at the child in her arms.
Even now… even wrapped in cloth… the baby carried light.
Not visible to the eye—but felt. A presence. A pulse. A warmth that did not belong to the night. Divya swallowed hard, realization cutting through her like a blade.
"Light never hides," she whispered brokenly. "Not even a spark."
Her hands trembled.
The Rivanshi bore light by nature. And in a world drowned in shadows, even the smallest glow became a beacon.
Divya's eyes filled as she pressed her forehead to the child's. "They will find you," she whispered. "Not because they are powerful… but because you are."
The baby stirred softly.
Divya closed her eyes.
Slowly, reverently, she placed her palm over the child's upper arm—where the OM mark slept beneath the skin. Her breath steadied as she reached inward, drawing upon knowledge passed down through centuries of Reeva blood.
She did not chant aloud.
The forest listened anyway.
The air thickened. The sea stilled. A faint hum filled the night—not sound, but presence.
Golden light seeped through Divya's fingers.
The OM mark flared once—soft, sorrowful—then loosened, unraveling like a thread of dawn pulled gently from flesh. The glow streamed into a small crystal Divya held tightly in her other hand.
The Reeva Mani.
The light condensed within it, swirling, alive—then settled.
The baby whimpered once.
Then silence.
Divya gasped, clutching the child to her chest as the glow vanished completely. The child's arm bore no mark now. No light. No call to the dark.
Only skin.
Only life.
Tears streamed down Divya's face as she rocked her gently. "Forgive me," she sobbed. "Your power is a blessing… and a danger. The world is not ready for you yet."
She kissed the child's brow, her voice breaking. "But it will find you again. When the time is right."
Divya turned toward the sea.
With shaking hands, she lifted the Reeva Mani, staring at it one last time—at the light trapped inside, beating softly like a heart.
Then she threw it.
The crystal arced through the air, catching the faintest trace of moonlight, before disappearing into the black waters below. The sea swallowed it whole, waves closing over the secret without a sound.
Divya exhaled—long, hollow.
Behind her—
Laughter.
Slow. Delighted. Applauding.
"Well done, Divya."
Divya froze.
Her blood ran cold as she turned.
Mohana stood among the trees, her black saree unmoved by wind, red eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. Her long braid slithered slightly, as if pleased.
"I couldn't have planned it better myself," Mohana continued, smiling broadly. "You removed the Rivanshi's light with your own hands."
She tilted her head, eyes flicking toward the child. "Now she is nothing but flesh."
Mohana's smile sharpened. "And flesh is so easy to destroy."
Divya tightened her hold on the child, dread crashing over her as Mohana took a slow step forward.
The sea roared softly behind them.
And the night leaned in to watch.
To be continued…