Deep inside the cave, the daayans felt it at the same instant.
A breach.
A presence where none should exist.
Their screams ripped through the darkness—ancient, feral cries that shook the cavern walls. The waterfall trembled as Mohana's reflection rippled violently across its surface. Her body remained petrified, but her eyes burned with sudden fury.
"He has crossed a line," her voice echoed, layered and distorted. "He was never meant to stand there."
At the temple, the earth responded.
The ground lurched without warning, throwing devotees off balance. Temple bells clanged wildly, their rhythm breaking apart as cracks split across the stone floor like veins. Dust poured down from above. Panic erupted—people shouting, grabbing at one another, pushing blindly toward the exits.
A sharp jolt sent Bani Dadi stumbling.
A sudden shove from behind knocked her off her feet. She fell hard against the stone, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs.
Pranati saw her go down.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
Ignoring the pain screaming through her injured ankle, she pushed through the chaos and dropped to her knees beside the fallen woman. Dust coated her palms as she slid one arm around Dadi's shoulders.
"Please," she said urgently, her voice shaking but steady. "Hold on to me. Get up slowly."
Only then did Arnav see them.
The noise of the crowd faded into nothing.
The world narrowed to one image—his grandmother on the cold stone floor, and a girl crouched over her, shielding her with her own body.
His breath left him in a sharp, broken exhale.
Another violent tremor tore through the temple.
A deafening crack split the air.
Arnav looked up.
A massive slab broke free from the ceiling, plunging straight toward them.
Time fractured.
Pranati heard it before she saw it—the roar of stone tearing loose. She looked up just as the shadow swallowed them whole.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs.
The memory struck her all at once.
Collapsing walls.
Falling stone.
That same helpless terror from her dreams.
Her body froze.
Her resolve did not.
She turned, pulled Dadi closer, and curled herself around the older woman as best as she could.
Arnav's pupils flared.
Something hot and violent surged through him—uncontrolled, ancient. His fists clenched as something deep inside his chest roared awake.
"No," he breathed. Not in fear. In refusal.
The slab slowed.
Not enough for anyone to notice.
Not enough for the world to understand.
Just enough.
Its trajectory shifted mid-fall, crashing violently into the ground beside them instead. The impact sent debris flying as dust swallowed everything.
People screamed again—louder, sharper.
Pranati coughed, her ears ringing. For a moment, she was sure she hadn't survived. Then she felt it—fingers clutching desperately at her sleeve.
She pulled back, panic flooding her face. "Are you hurt?" she asked urgently.
Dadi shook her head, still too stunned to speak.
"Come," Pranati urged, forcing herself upright despite the pain. "We need to get down the steps."
She took one step.
Her ankle gave out.
She slipped—
A hand closed around hers.
Strong. Steady.
Arnav.
His grip tightened, anchoring her, pulling her back from the fall. For a brief moment, everything stilled—no tremors, no screams—just the pressure of his hand around hers.
Then sound rushed back in.
Arnav released her immediately, as if the contact itself startled him.
Around them, the temple began to settle. The cracks stopped spreading. The dust slowly thinned. People looked around in stunned silence, unable to understand why the destruction had simply… stopped.
Inside the sanctum, unseen by mortal eyes, the idols of Shiva and Parvati glowed softly for a fleeting instant before the light faded.
Deep in the cave, the daayans collapsed, shrieking in agony.
Mohana's reflection rippled violently, disbelief twisting her expression.
"This was not meant to happen…"
Back at the temple, Pranati supported Dadi down the steps, her breath uneven, her hands shaking—not from magic, but from fear, shock, and pain.
Arnav followed a few steps behind.
He did not look at the broken ceiling.
He did not look at the crowd.
He looked only at Pranati.
At the girl who had stepped into danger without hesitation—and walked out alive.
And for the first time in his life, Arnav felt something far more unsettling than fear.
Hope.
To be continued...