Pranati's hands shook as she fumbled for her phone.
"No… no…" she whispered, fingers slipping against the screen. "Please… please pick up."
She turned back toward the wreckage, her breath hitching painfully in her throat.
That was when it happened.
A heavy thud echoed against the ground.
Something had fallen out of the burning car.
Pranati froze.
Her phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the road unnoticed as she stared.
A body lay sprawled near the flames—limbs bent at impossible angles, skin blackened and blistered beyond recognition. One arm was twisted backward, bone jutting grotesquely through torn flesh. The smell of burnt metal and charred skin filled the air.
Pranati slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Oh my God…" she choked.
Her knees threatened to give way as she staggered back, tears burning her eyes. "No… this… this can't be…"
She turned her face away, unable to look, unable to breathe.
Behind her—
There was a sound.
A wet, unnatural crack.
Pranati stiffened.
Slowly, against every instinct screaming at her to run, she turned back.
The body moved.
The burnt figure twitched—once… twice.
Then, with a sickening snap, the broken neck twisted sharply and slid back into place, bone grinding against bone until it aligned perfectly.
Pranati screamed.
The body rose.
Charred skin began to change—blackened flesh tightening, peeling away as raw burns healed at a terrifying speed. Blisters vanished. Torn muscle knitted itself together. Broken bones shifted, twisting audibly until they locked back into place.
She stumbled backward, terror stealing the air from her lungs.
"No… no… no…" she whispered, shaking her head violently.
The flames licking the man's clothes flickered once—then died as if pushed away by an unseen force. He reached up, gripping the burning fabric, and tore it from his body with a sharp rip, tossing it aside.
Beneath the ruined shirt, his skin was unmarked.
Perfect.
Unharmed.
Alive.
Pranati backed away until her calves hit the roadside barrier. Her legs gave out, and she slid down, staring up at him in utter disbelief.
The man straightened fully.
His chest rose slowly as he inhaled—deep, deliberate—like someone waking from a long restraint.
Then his eyes opened.
They burned.
Not human brown. Not black.
A molten, hellish orange glowed from within his pupils, lighting his face with something ancient and dangerous.
His fingers curled.
With a metallic rasp, long claws slid from his knuckles—sharp, curved, inhuman.
Pranati sobbed.
"This… this isn't real…" she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I'm dreaming… I have to be…"
The man—Arnav—turned his head slightly, sensing her presence.
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, Pranati knew—with a certainty that hollowed her out—
Monsters were real.
High above, hidden among the branches of a tree, Kapalika clung effortlessly to the trunk. Her reversed feet held firm as she watched, yellow eyes gleaming with reverence.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
She lowered her head.
She bowed.
"This," she murmured softly, voice thick with devotion, "is the true form of the Daavansh."
The wind stirred.
Arnav's claws flexed.
And destiny, long delayed, finally awakened.
Meanwhile, at the Raizada Villa
The house, once bustling with decorations and anxious murmurs, had fallen into an uneasy, suffocating stillness.
Vedshree stood alone in front of the small shrine, hands clenched tightly so her knuckles were white. The incense smoke curled upward, restless, refusing to rise straight. Her eyes flicked repeatedly toward the doorway, as if willing Arnav to appear at any moment.
"Just… come back, beta…" she whispered, voice barely audible. "Wherever you are… please come back."
A faint tremor ran through the room.
Vedshree frowned. At first, she thought it was her imagination—her nerves taut, fraying. Then she heard it.
A soft, insistent rattle.
Her gaze snapped to the side table.
Arnav's photo frame—carefully placed near the staircase—was trembling.
Not falling. Not sliding.
Vibrating.
Her breath caught in her throat. She took a hesitant step forward, dread pooling in her stomach.
"No…" she whispered, voice trembling.
The vibration intensified. The glass within the frame shuddered, as if something beneath it was pushing outward.
Suman entered cautiously. "Vedshree?" she called softly. "Are you—"
She stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening.
The frame rattled harder.
Vanraj turned sharply from across the room. "What's happening?"
Before anyone could move closer, a dark stain bloomed beneath the glass.
Slowly. Sinisterly.
It spread like ink in water.
A symbol emerged. Crooked. Ancient. Alive.
The witch's mark.
Vedshree staggered back, voice cracking. "No… no, no, no—this can't be happening."
Bani Dadi clutched the edge of the sofa, her face ashen. "Oh God…" she whispered hoarsely. "This mark…"
Sanjeev stepped forward, jaw tight, eyes narrowing. "That… that mark only appears when—"
"When daayan shakti awakens," Vedshree finished, panic clawing through her chest. Her eyes filled instantly with tears. "It means Arnav's powers… they're surfacing."
Suman's hand flew to her mouth. "But… how? He left to protect us—"
Vedshree shook her head violently, voice trembling. "He knew this would happen. The bracelet… it can't restrain him anymore."
The mark pulsed once. Then again.
Vedshree pressed her palm to her chest, struggling for breath. "Mohana," she whispered, fear tightening her throat. "She'll feel this… she'll know."
The room seemed to grow colder. Heavier. As if an unseen presence had crossed a threshold.
Vanraj's hands clenched into fists, fear flickering in his eyes but determination shining through. "We can't just wait here," he said firmly. "We have to find him."
Vedshree stared at the trembling frame, tears spilling freely. "Wherever you are, Arnav," she whispered, voice breaking. "Please… don't lose yourself."
The mark glowed darker, almost alive. And far away, something ancient stirred with a smile.
To be continued…