Meanwhile, at the Raizada Villa
Ranav nearly slipped on the last step as he ran down the staircase.
"Bhaiya… Bhaiya isn't in his room."
The words hung in the air, unfinished, as though they themselves were afraid to land.
Arav followed him, gripping the railing, his knuckles white. His eyes searched every face in the hall, silently begging someone—anyone—to tell him this was a misunderstanding.
Vedshree turned slowly.
"What do you mean… he isn't there?" Her voice barely carried.
Vanraj straightened, instinctively protective. "Ranav," he said, measured but sharp, "check again."
"We did," Ranav whispered. "Three times."
He swallowed.
"He sent this."
His thumb hovered over the screen for a second longer than necessary—hesitation, fear—before pressing play.
Arnav's voice filled the hall.
It wasn't frightened.
That was what hurt the most.
"Maa… Vedshree Maa," he said softly.
"Badi Maa Suman… Papa Vanraj… Chachu Sanjeev… Super Dadi…"
Vedshree's breath caught. Her heart began to pound—not loudly, but unevenly, like it already knew what was coming.
"I know how much you love me," Arnav continued. "And I know how much I mean to you."
A pause.
"I wish that was enough."
Suman's hand slid instinctively into Vedshree's, squeezing tightly.
"I can feel it," Arnav said quietly. "Something inside me… waking up. Growing louder every day."
Vedshree shook her head. No. Not today. Not now.
"The bracelet Divya Maa gave me…" His voice faltered for the first time. "It kept me human. Kept me safe."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"But after today… it won't."
A low sound escaped Vedshree's throat—half sob, half prayer.
"I don't want you to be afraid of me," Arnav went on. "I don't want you to bleed because of me."
His breath shuddered.
"I was born with this darkness. I've run from it long enough."
He exhaled slowly.
"I am a Daavansh."
The words struck like a death knell.
Vedshree crumpled, clinging to Suman as though the floor itself had given way.
"No…" she whispered. "Arnav… come back. Please. You're my son."
The recording ended.
Silence swallowed the room.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Ranav wiped his eyes angrily, refusing to let the tears fall. "We'll find him," he said, voice raw but determined. "I promise."
Arav nodded beside him, fear and resolve warring in his eyes. "He's not alone. He won't be."
Vanraj looked at the empty staircase—at the space Arnav should have occupied.
"This family does not lose its children," he said, quietly but firmly. "Not to blood. Not to fate."
Outside, unseen, the air shifted.
Something ancient had stirred.
And it was listening.
Meanwhile, on the highway
The sun hung low in the sky, its light dull and tired, stretching long shadows across the asphalt.
Arnav drove in silence.
The highway was quieter than usual—too quiet. The pale afternoon light poured through the windshield, warming his skin, yet doing nothing to calm the unease crawling beneath it. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles tight, as if letting go would unleash something he could no longer hold back.
The hum of the engine filled the car, steady and relentless.
Memories surfaced without warning.
A door ripped from its hinges.
A mirror shattered with a single blow.
Vedshree's sharp intake of breath—quickly masked by a smile that came too late.
Suman's trembling hands as she reached for him, refusing to step back even when fear flickered in her eyes.
"I didn't want this," Arnav murmured, staring straight ahead.
He never did.
The heat beneath his skin pulsed again—slow, insistent. His jaw tightened. He loosened one hand from the wheel and flexed his fingers, grounding himself, reminding his body who was in control.
At least for now.
Today changed everything.
The bracelet on his wrist felt heavier than usual, cold against his pulse. After today, it would no longer bind what lived inside him. The thought settled like a stone in his chest.
If he stayed… someone would get hurt.
And he would never forgive himself for that.
"I can't protect them from me," he said quietly. "So I'll protect them by leaving."
The road stretched ahead, sunlit and merciless, carrying him farther away from the people who had chosen him despite his blood, despite the monster he feared becoming.
Behind him, home shrank into memory.
Ahead of him, fate waited—unhurried, patient.
Something ancient had already felt the shift.
And the day itself seemed to hold its breath.
---
To be continued...