"You will bow," Nishi whispered, each syllable a coiling vow. "You will learn to welcome the dark. Sarvansh will rise, and when he does, Kamini will wake. The witches will wake with her."
Her yellow eyes flashed with hunger and calculation. Pain made her sharper; setback made her cunning. She sank to one knee, planting both palms on the loam as if feeling the earth's pulse. From beneath fallen fronds a long, black braid unwound itself and slithered toward her like a living thing answering her call.
"Gather," she commanded into the trees. "Send word to the coven. Tell them the seed still breathes. Tell them the child they stole is not lost—he is merely unmade, waiting."
The jungle seemed to lean in, and somewhere deeper in the dark a low answering hiss rose—many voices, dry and eager. Nishigandha straightened, masking the pain with a grin that was all fang and promise.
"Good," she murmured, voice silk and venom. "Let him believe himself safe beneath his mother's shadow. Let him sleep. When he wakes, he will choose. And if he will not choose—" she looked up at the distant glow of the mansion like a predator tasting blood, "—I will make him."
Back on the highway, the hooded man pushed himself up with a growl, pipe raised high. His eyes glinted under the hood, fixed on Gauri with violent intent.
He swung.
But this time Gauri was ready. She bent her upper body low, the whoosh of the pipe cutting past just above her head. Her breath caught, heart thundering, but her focus was sharp.
Before the hooded man could recover, Gauri launched herself into a swift backflip—her heel cracking hard against his chest.
The impact sent him staggering, the pipe slipping from his grip as he toppled backward onto the rough asphalt with a heavy thud.
Gauri landed steady, her chest heaving, adrenaline blazing in her veins. For the first time, fear gave way to resolve—her eyes narrowing at the figure who had haunted her nights.
Gauri's chest rose and fell in sharp breaths, her eyes darting until they caught sight of a prayer tree at the roadside. A small shrine nestled beneath it—its roots cradling a trident smeared with vermilion and surrounded by offerings.
Her heart surged with sudden hope. She staggered toward it, hands trembling as she pressed her forehead against the cool metal.
"Devi Maa…" she whispered, voice cracking. "Give me strength."
The hooded man groaned, pulling himself upright, his hand curling as dark energy began to form. But the moment his magic stretched toward Gauri, it fizzled, sparks dying midair as though the air itself refused to obey him.
His eyes widened beneath the hood. Impossible…
Unaware of his struggle, Gauri rose to her feet, fingers gripping the trident. She turned, her stance bold, the sacred weapon steady in her hands.
Behind her, the pond rippled unnaturally. Water slithered upward, threads weaving and twisting until they took shape—a shimmering phoenix with wings of liquid light. It hovered like a guardian, its reflection gleaming in Gauri's eyes though she never turned to see it.
The hooded man froze. His breath caught in horror as realization struck him. She… she is the Jalpanchi. The god-gifted child… the one fated to end the world of darkness.
Gauri's voice rang out, fierce and unyielding.
"Jai Devi Maa!"
With that cry, she lunged forward. The trident's tip pierced his arm, and the hooded man let out a guttural scream, collapsing to the ground as the weapon seared him with divine force.
Clutching his wounded arm, he writhed, glaring at her through the shadows of his hood. But his magic was gone—drained, nullified by her presence.
Gauri stood above him, breathless but unbroken, the trident gleaming in her grasp as if the goddess herself had placed it there.
Gauri steadied her grip on the trident, her eyes blazing as she raised it once more. "This ends now!" she cried, stepping toward the fallen figure.
But before the strike could land, a sudden gust of icy wind whipped around her. The hooded man's body shimmered, as though the darkness itself was swallowing him whole.
Gauri froze mid-step, her eyes widening.
"What…?"
With a hiss that echoed like a whisper from another realm, the hooded man dissolved into shadows—his form collapsing inward until nothing remained. No footsteps. No trail. No sound. Only silence.
Gauri spun around, scanning the empty highway. Her chest tightened as her knuckles whitened around the trident.
"He… vanished," she murmured, her voice trembling. "Just vanished… in thin air."
Her breath came fast, mixing with the night wind. For a long moment, she stood there, unsure whether to feel victorious… or hunted.
The phoenix of water rippled once behind her, its wings folding protectively before melting back into the pond, leaving no trace of its existence.
Gauri swallowed hard, her eyes flicking back to the shrine. "What's happening to me?" she whispered.