At the Pratham Vansh's cottage, the air smelled of burning herbs and sacred oils. Veena lay on a cot, her breathing shallow but steady as the old seeress worked tirelessly. The Pratham Vanshi's wrinkled hands moved with purpose, sprinkling powdered roots, tying charms of rudraksha beads, and rubbing Veena's forehead with a thick paste of spiritual herbs.
Vihaan knelt close, his eyes red with guilt. "If anything happens to Maa, I'll never forgive myself," he whispered hoarsely.
The Pratham Vanshi glanced at him briefly, her eyes calm and steady. "Her spirit is strong. She will recover, child. Your mother has walked through fire before—this is but another trial."
Vihaan clenched his fists, frustration written across his face. "Still, I couldn't protect her. I couldn't stop Kamini's curse."
The old seer placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice heavy with wisdom. "Sometimes the protector must first walk through guilt to realize the depth of his duty."
Vihaan nodded silently, but the fire in his eyes returned. He rose to his feet and turned toward the door. "I'll find Kamini's murti… and I'll end this. Stay here with Maa, Gauri. Don't leave her side."
Gauri stood frozen, her heart twisting. She wanted to follow him, but she only nodded. "I will, Vihaan. Go."
As the door shut behind him, the cottage fell into a hushed stillness, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and Veena's strained breaths.
Gauri sat by the bedside, clutching Veena's hand. Her eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry, Maa… I should have protected you. I should have—" Her voice cracked. She bent down, resting her forehead against Veena's palm. "Forgive me."
The Pratham Vanshi's voice rose softly from behind. "You did protect her, Gauri. You think you failed, but in truth, you diverted the venom meant for her. Do not curse yourself for what is part of the divine plan."
Gauri wiped her tears quickly, forcing a small smile, as if trying to appear composed. But then, her mask slipped. She turned to face the old seer, her eyes burning with an unspoken truth.
"I have to tell you something," she said quietly.
The Pratham Vanshi's brows lifted. "Speak, child."
Gauri inhaled deeply. "In the cave… Kamini tried to bewitch me. She spoke, she wove her darkness, she tried to bend me to her will. But—" She hesitated, clutching her chest. "—her powers didn't work. I don't know why. It was like… I was beyond her reach."
The old woman studied her intently, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded slowly, as though confirming something long suspected. "That is why she fears you."
Gauri's eyes widened. "Fears me? But why?"
"You carry something she cannot touch. You are braver than you know, Gauri," the Pratham Vanshi said, her voice firm. "The fact that Kamini's spells faltered before you is not accident—it is destiny."
Gauri swallowed hard. "But destiny isn't enough. Right now, I'm pretending to gain Kamini's trust. I'm doing it only to protect Vihaan, but… this can't go on forever. We need a way to kill her."
At that, the old seer turned away, staring into the flame-lit shadows of her cottage. For a long moment, she said nothing. The silence grew heavy, as though the walls themselves were listening.
Finally, in a voice low and grave, the Pratham Vanshi said, "Kamini can be killed by one person alone."
Gauri's heart thudded painfully in her chest. She stepped closer. "Who?"
The old woman turned back, her eyes glimmering with something ancient.
"The Godsent Jalpanchi."
The name lingered in the air, strange and otherworldly. Gauri's breath caught. The moment she heard it, something inside her stirred—a pull, a resonance deep within her chest. It was as though the very sound of the word awakened something hidden in her soul.
Her lips parted, her voice barely a whisper. "Jalpanchi…"
The Pratham Vanshi's gaze narrowed. "Yes. You feel it, don't you?"
Gauri could only nod, trembling, her heart whispering a truth she could not yet understand.
The fire in the hearth crackled low, shadows dancing against the mud walls of the Pratham Vanshi's cottage. Gauri sat close, still trembling from the weight of the word Jalpanchi. The seeress's voice cut through the silence, deep and steady, as though each word carried echoes from another time.
"Child… you must know the truth. It began twenty-five years ago, on the river's edge…"
Her eyes glazed over, as though looking beyond the present, and the air around them seemed to shimmer with memory.
---
[FLASHBACK]
The river roared under a full moon, its waves glistening silver. Inside a humble hut belonging to the Reevavanshis, sworn hunters of witches, the cry of a newborn rang out.
The midwife, her hands trembling, gasped aloud. "A… a Jalpanchi!"
The infant's skin shimmered faintly, as if the moonlight itself had blessed her with ripples of light.
The mother, Vedika, wept tears of joy, clutching the child close. But her happiness was pierced when an elder of the Pratham Vansh appeared at the doorway, her eyes clouded with vision.
"This girl," the elder declared, her voice heavy with prophecy, "will rise as light. She will guide the Sarvansh… and through her hand, the Daayan bloodline shall fall."
Vedika's joy faltered, replaced with dread. She knew well that prophecy was both blessing and burden. That very night, with her heart torn, she sealed away her daughter's powers. She placed her hand over the child's chest, whispering ancient incantations. A faint glow sank into the infant's body, burying the power deep within her soul—locked until destiny itself chose to awaken it.
Tears streamed down Vedika's face as she laid her child into a cradle woven from reeds. "Forgive me, my little one. May the river carry you to safety."
The cradle floated gently into the moonlit waters. The baby cooed softly, and it almost seemed as though the river sang a lullaby in response, guiding her deeper into its current.
---
[FLASHBACK – SHIFT TO DARKNESS]
But dawn never came in peace. Kamini's spies had already carried word of the Jalpanchi's birth.
The hiss of serpents filled the night. Out of the shadows, the Sarpdaayan emerged, her fangs gleaming, her talons dripping venom. Her laughter was shrill, her presence suffocating.
By sunrise, screams had long faded. Blood stained the earth. The Reevavanshi hut lay in ruins. Vedika and her husband Dev lay lifeless, their sacrifice unmarked by the world… save for the child who had escaped down the river's path.
---
[PRESENT – BACK IN THE COTTAGE]
The fire snapped loudly, pulling Gauri back from the visions. Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling in her lap.
Pratham Vanshi's voice softened, almost like a lullaby weighed by grief. "The Jalpanchi survived. Her powers slumber still, locked by her mother's hand. But destiny cannot be denied forever. She walks among us even now, unaware of what she carries within."
Gauri's breath quickened. She pressed a hand to her chest instinctively, as though her very heartbeat echoed the story. A strange ache—half fear, half belonging—swelled inside her.
Her lips parted, voice hushed and trembling. "So… she is still alive?"
The Pratham Vanshi's eyes met hers, heavy with meaning, but she did not speak the name. Instead, she only said, "When the time comes, the river will call to her once again. And in that moment, Kamini's reign shall end."
Gauri lowered her gaze, her mind spinning with confusion and a strange, terrifying connection she could not yet name.