As Pranati completed the final flourish of her dance, the courtyard fell into a reverent hush. The lingering resonance of the Shiva Tandava Stotram hung in the air like a gentle vibration, settling into the hearts of everyone present.
One by one, the chawl girls bowed deeply, folding their palms before the Shivlingam, their eyes lowered, lips moving in whispered Om Namah Shivaya.
Pranati stepped forward carefully, mindful of her injured ankle, carrying a small silver pot of milk. She poured it slowly over the Shivlingam, watching the white liquid cascade down its dark stone surface, glistening in the light of flickering lamps. Each drop seemed to shimmer, reflecting devotion, fear, hope, and reverence all at once.
Around her, others followed suit. Milk flowed over the stone, marigold petals sprinkled on top, incense smoke curling in delicate spirals. The air was thick with sacred energy, murmurs of prayers blending with the subtle ringing of bells.
Pranati's chest rose and fell with controlled breaths. She felt an unusual warmth settle over her — a quiet, unseen reassurance. Nothing spoke, nothing explained, yet the energy felt alive, like the very presence of Shiva acknowledging their devotion.
She straightened, hands folded, eyes lifted to the idol. The moment was silent, heavy, yet intimate. No one spoke. No one moved unnecessarily. In the stillness, the world seemed to pause, holding its breath along with her.
And somewhere, unseen, the first faint flicker of Rivanshi energy pulsed within her, as if responding to the sacred rhythm she had just danced.
---
Arnav adjusted the last button of his golden-white kurta, smoothing down the fabric. The sunlight caught the embroidery just right, and he allowed himself a rare, quiet moment.
The peace was shattered by a loud, mock-heroic roar.
"Behold!" Ranav stepped in, chest puffed, arms flexed like he was about to win a bodybuilding competition. "Bhaiya, judge—are these arms worthy of admiration?"
Arav wasn't far behind, striking an exaggerated pose. "Clearly the biceps are mine. Ranav, sit down. I will demonstrate proper muscle discipline."
Arnav froze, halfway through tightening his collar. He turned slowly, deadpan. "Why are you two behaving like children? Must I always witness this… display of theatrics?"
Ranav waved a hand dismissively. "Age is just a number, Bhaiya. It's about spirit. Flexibility of spirit."
Arav leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, "I'd say it's tragic the world hasn't seen these guns in action. Don't be stingy with your compliments, Mr. Stern CEO."
Arnav pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "Compliments? I'm responsible for running a company, making decisions, managing crises… and you want me to critique your… circus acts?"
Ranav crouched slightly, hands on knees. "Exactly! Life is too serious, Bhaiya. You should loosen up a bit. Smile. Pretend we're not your younger brothers in… enthusiasm."
Arnav tilted his head. "Enthusiasm? I'd call it reckless display."
Arav stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Call it what you want. We call it a celebration of muscle and spirit."
Arnav let out a long sigh, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Fine. Celebration it is. Happy now?"
Ranav clapped slowly, theatrically. "Progress! Look at him smile. Our stern CEO is finally thawing!"
Arav chuckled. "Watch out, world. Bhaiya's a softie beneath all that seriousness."
Arnav shook his head, letting his shoulders relax. "Softie… right. Parade your arms. Impress the neighbors with your theatrics."
The two brothers struck another exaggerated pose, laughing, while Arnav allowed himself a quiet moment of amusement. For once, the weight of responsibility lifted, replaced by the warmth of their teasing camaraderie.
Kapalika watched from her perch on the sturdy branch of the tree outside the villa, her sharp eyes never leaving the three brothers below. Sunlight poured over the grounds, forcing her to stay in shadow, but it didn't matter—she already knew the truth. The boy in the golden-white kurta wasn't just an ordinary man. He was the Daavansh.
Arnav adjusted his kurta with calm precision, his posture effortless, exuding that same composed authority he always carried. Ranav and Arav, younger, more playful, bickered in full view, trying to pull a reaction from him.
"Come on, Arnav! Who's got the better abs?" Ranav teased, flexing dramatically.
Arav shot back, striking a pose. "Please, clearly mine are superior. Admit it!"
Arnav's lips twitched slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement. "You two are seriously acting like children. Should I call a babysitter?"
"Loosen up, Mr. Stern CEO!" Ranav said, laughing.
"Yeah, come on, lighten up!" Arav added, nudging him playfully.
Kapalika's lips curved into a thin, sinister smile. She had no doubt now. The way he moved, the aura around him—even in such a mundane moment of sibling banter—spoke of power, control, and something far darker beneath the calm exterior.
The Daavansh walks among them, unaware yet so strong…
She tilted her head, letting her braid whip in the breeze. She could feel the tiny pulse of his energy, sense his potential. Today, she couldn't strike. Today, she could only watch and wait.
But soon… the darkness would be hers to feed.
With a final glance at the trio, Kapalika melted back into the shadows, her figure disappearing among the branches, her eyes never leaving Arnav.