The day she chose pride over remorse, love fell—first from heaven, then from his heart.
~~~~~
Gyanwati's energy drained .Shadows clung to her skin. She was marked—tainted by the residue of dark energy. Her body ached immensely. She called to God, but no one answered.
In the forest, every creature felt it. They felt, abandonment.
The protection that once wrapped them in warmth was gone.
The sacred aura that had guarded them—the quiet power of their queen—was gone. The trees stood hollow, the soil turned cold, and every beating heart in that forest knew: their protector's light had vanished.
Gyanwati's hair began to fall in strands. Her skin turned a faint, lifeless blue. The heavenly glow that once followed her had vanished. She was no longer the spirit queen of the forest.
For the first time in her life, Gyanwati could not travel with her powers. She moved like a human now—taking a bus, then a train, then a taxi—returning home in weary silence.
Her grandmother, who always felt her aura before she even arrived, sensed nothing this time.
After arriving, Desperate, she ran to the library. Books lay open across the marble floor as she turned page after page, biting her nails, trembling, searching for a cure.
After a while, her Grandmother saw her and froze.
"Gyanwati… you're back. But—but what is this?" She looked her pale blue face, her heavenly aura was no longer around, "what happened to you? Where are your powers?"
Her voice cracked with fear. "What have you done?"
Gyanwati didn't look up. Her eyes was racing over pages, yearning.
Her grandmother snatched the book from her hands.
"Where were you?" she demanded.
"Grandma…" Gyanwati's voice broke. "Please, give me the book. I need a solution."
"What solution? What have you done?"
Tears flooded her eyes as she suddenly wrapped her arms around grandmother.
"I was doing a ritual and…..Something went wrong," she whispered. "God didn't help me… God didn't, I called him, but he didn't help."
Her grandmother's tone softened "What went wrong? Which ritual? And God didn't help? That's not possible. God never abandons His children. What sin have you committed that He turned away from you?"
Gyanwati didn't answer.
"What went wrong, Gyanwati?" she pressed, firmer this time.
"What ritual were you performing? Tell me."
Gyanwati hesitated.
"Just a… meditation ritual," she lied weakly.
"No." Her grandmother's voice turned sharp, ancient power echoing through it. "Tell the truth, Pavitra."
Silence. Then the whisper escaped.
"The ritual to master Mṛtyuñjaya Siddhi."
Her grandmother's eyes widened in disbelief "Please don't tell me, Pavitra," she whispered, her voice trembling, "that you performed what I think you did…the ritual to command life and death."
Gyanvati said nothing. Her silence spoke louder than any confession could.
Her grandmother stepped back, horrified. "What have you done, child? That ritual was meant to fail! No spirit is meant to touch it!"
Without another word, the grandma ran from the house into the forest. She fell to her knees and touched the soil—cold, unguarded. The forest that once breathed through Gyanwati's spirit now has no one as their ruler.
Meanwhile, Gyanwati searched every scripture, every scroll, her fingers shaking, desperate for solution . Her parents soon came to know. The whispers spread through the Aokma community like wildfire. And then—Madhav found out.
Her grandmother returned, eyes red. "You were gone with the wolf, weren't you?"
"Grandma, please," Gyanwati begged, ignoring the question. "Help me find a solution."
Her grandmother's voice rose, fierce "Answer me! Where is he? The wolf who guarded you? I couldn't find him in the forest!"
Gyanwati froze. The words clawed at her chest. She lowered her gaze.
"I… sacrificed him. His sacrifice was needed."
Her grandmother staggered back, the world spinning. "What?"
Gyanwati's mother broke into sobs, she realised what her daughter had done, and now there was no going back.
Gyanwati tried to hold her grandmother, but the old woman jerked away.
"You murdered the very being you were born to protect? Aren't you ashamed? You—murdered someone who loved you and served you as their queen" Her voice trembled with fury. "And you still dare say that God abandoned you? You abandoned Him first!"
"I did this so that I can protect the creation, so that I can stop them from dying?" Gyanwati cried.
"You cannot do that, everyone has to die, you are obliged to protect them until you and they are alive. You were meant to protect life within its cycle, not destroy the balance itself."
her grandmother said.
Word spread quickly—how Gyanwati had betrayed her kind. How she had broken the divine trust of the forest. The engagement between her and Madhav was broken off by his parents.
But one evening, Madhav came to meet her in secret.
She stood beneath the eaves, pale and trembling. When she saw him, her heart cracked open. They didn't speak at first—they simply fell into each other's arms.
"See," she whispered, "I'll find a way. I'll get my powers back, I promise…"
Madhav at first didn't speak at all, he just held her hands, observed her, saw her.
After a while, he asked, "Where is the guilt?"his eyes searching hers.
"What?" she asked softly.
"I don't see it," he said. "You sacrificed the wolf. Even God left your side. But you—"
"I know I shouldn't have done it," she said, her voice rising. "But God shouldn't have left me either! What's wrong with wanting more knowledge? More power?"
"Nothing," he said quietly. "Until it blinds you. Sometimes, we're meant to be grateful for what we already have. And even if we seek more, you must do it the right way— rather than doing a harmful ritual which is not even meant for us."
He sighed "You weren't seeking power or knowledge, Gyanwati. You were seeking control."
He turned to leave.
"When will you convince your parents not to break our engagement?" she called after him.
He didn't turn back. "Do penance," he said. And walked away.
Gyanwati stood alone, surrounded by the dark energy she had birthed. Her powers were gone. Her love was gone. Her faith, shattered.
Only arrogance remained—burning quietly, refusing to die.