The morning sun streamed through the villa's wide windows, illuminating ribbons, balloons, and a glittering "Happy Birthday" banner swaying lightly in the breeze. Kiaan's small footsteps echoed as he descended the staircase, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"What's all this for?" he asked, voice tight, sharp. "When papa doesn't even trust me?"
His words hung in the air, heavy, almost cutting through the cheer. A flicker of something darker flashed in his eyes. Golden light shimmered in his irises, faint at first, then stronger, hotter, as the bracelet around his wrist struggled to contain the surge of power rising inside him.
Suddenly, the balloons jerked upward, ribbons twisting violently in midair. The glittering decorations trembled as if possessed. Chairs tipped over, streamers tore, and the cake wobbled precariously on its stand.
"Kiaan! Stop!" Bhoomi cried, rushing forward, hands outstretched.
"Please… don't!" Susheela added, her voice quivering.
But Kiaan barely registered them. His small fists clenched, his chest heaving. Telekinetic force emanated from him, smashing balloons, tearing down banners, and scattering the carefully arranged table settings.
Yuvaan froze, his gaze locked on his son. The golden glow in Kiaan's eyes mirrored the fury he had known long ago—Kaal, the Warlock King, the man he once had been, burning within the boy. The raw, untamed power in his son's hands was terrifyingly familiar, and for a moment, Yuvaan could only stare, speechless, as the storm of force unfolded before him.
"Kiaan… calm down," Yuvaan's voice was steady but low, carrying a weight of command and fear, echoing memories of battles long past.
But Kiaan's ears only heard anger, betrayal, and a thirst for acknowledgment. The bracelet around his wrist shimmered violently, straining to restrain him. The room trembled. Plates rattled. Glasses teetered on the edge of tables.
The villa, meant for celebration, had become a battlefield. And at the center stood Kiaan—small, furious, golden-eyed, and unrestrained—while Yuvaan, heart clenching, saw the old dark king reflected in his son.
Aakash stepped forward, his hands raised cautiously, his voice soft and pleading. "Kiaan… please, calm down. Don't—"
"Stop," Yuvaan's voice cut through the room like a whip. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, held an intensity that froze everyone mid-step. Aakash faltered, stepping back, uncertainty flickering across his face.
"Kiaan," Yuvaan said slowly, deliberately, "continue." His words were calm, but there was a dangerous edge beneath them. "Go ahead. Tear this house apart. Hurt whoever stands in your way."
Kiaan's small hands twitched, the telekinetic energy coiling around him like a living thing. For a heartbeat, he seemed ready to obey, the golden light in his eyes blazing hotter. The room vibrated with the power he radiated.
Then his gaze fell on Bhoomi and Susheela. Their faces were etched with worry and pleading, hands clasped together as if silently begging him to stop.
A flicker of hesitation passed through him, but the anger still burned, unyielding, raw.
Yuvaan's lips curved faintly, almost imperceptibly, as if testing him. "Now… they won't have a birthday party," he said, his voice deceptively soft. "No decorations, no laughter, nothing. Remember this, Kiaan."
The words hit like a blow, and Yuvaan turned, storming out of the room. The echo of the closing door left a vacuum of authority, and the charged silence of the room pressed against Kiaan. His chest heaved, fists clenched, golden eyes still glowing, fury burning hotter than ever.
Rani, hidden in the shadows, allowed herself a subtle, victorious smile. The seed of chaos had been sown perfectly. The boy's rage, unchecked and inflamed by Yuvaan's words, was exactly what she had wanted.
Meanwhile, Kiaan remained frozen, caught between his searing anger and the silent plead of those he cared for. The room was quiet now, the storm held at bay, but only for a moment.
The fallout had begun.
To be continued.....