For weeks after the ritual, Veer stayed silent.
He didn't leave his house. Didn't talk to Desai. Barely ate.
He had brought her back.
And then he had sent her away again.
But worse—he had felt it.
In that final flash of ash and light.
The god.
Breathing through her.
Looking through her eyes.
Father Desai finally visited again.
His right hand still wrapped in charred bandages.
He placed a dusty, leather-bound book on Veer's table.
No title. No author. Only a symbol etched in the center—
—a hollow circle, surrounded by twisted bone-like lines.
Veer stared at it.
"What is that?"
Desai's voice was dry.
"The Gospel of the Hollow God."
He opened it to a marked page.
There, in a faded sketch, was a figure of flame and ash, with many arms and no face. Beneath it were kneeling worshippers—eyes black, mouths stitched shut.
"The cult was formed almost four hundred years ago," Desai explained. "Secretly. In the mountains. They believed in a being older than time. A hollow god. One that lives not in heaven or hell—but beneath us all."
Veer's heart pounded.
Desai continued:
"They built temples underground. One of them, the largest… was buried under a mansion."
"Hollowridge," Veer whispered.
Desai nodded. "And they called it the House of the Gate."
"The Bhattacharyas were part of this?" Veer asked.
Desai shook his head. "No. But they inherited the land. Unknowingly built atop it. And your wife's great-grandfather discovered it… and tried to silence the truth. That's why he murdered Dev."
Veer swallowed hard. "But Dev found it first."
"Yes. And he opened the passage. Let the god see again. That's why his spirit was so twisted—it wasn't just vengeance. It was possession."
Veer stood, his voice trembling. "And Aarohi?"
Desai lowered his eyes. "She didn't just return. She was chosen."
That night, Veer tried not to dream.
But he did.
He always did now.
This time, he stood in a field.
Dark. Endless.
Torches burned in a circle ahead.
Figures in tattered robes knelt around something tall, bound in black cloth.
A statue?
No… a person.
They turned.
Veer gasped.
Aarohi.
Her mouth was sewn shut.
Her hands were bound in silver wire.
But her eyes were wide open.
And burning with silver flame.
The cultists chanted.
Their leader stepped forward, placing a crown of bones on her head.
And in a voice that shook the dream-world apart, he whispered:
"The Gate is here."
Veer woke up in sweat.
Desai was already on the phone.
"They're back," he said grimly. "Reports from three villages. Burned fields. Animals dead without reason. Black ash in circles. And…"
He paused.
Veer waited.
"…they found a girl. Naked. Hair white. Eyes silver."
Veer's voice was barely a breath.
"Aarohi."
The next day, Desai brought him to a remote hill temple near the edge of an abandoned village.
Guards with crosses and salt lines kept the public away.
But Desai was let through.
Inside, lying on a stone bed in a sealed room, was her.
She looked peaceful.
Eyes closed.
Breathing steady.
But the walls around her were scorched black.
And in every corner of the temple—
Ash.
Veer stepped closer.
"Aarohi?" he whispered.
Her eyes opened.
Silver.
She smiled faintly.
"You came back…"
Desai pulled Veer away. "We don't know what she is. Yet."
Veer ignored him.
He looked into her eyes and asked softly:
"Is it still inside you?"
She smiled wider.
And whispered:
"It's not inside me anymore.
I am inside it."