A sudden gust of wind swept through the Pratap Singh mansion. Windows rattled violently, curtains whipped in the air, and the joyous chatter of the family was drowned out by the roar of the storm.
Yuvaan and Kiara froze, their eyes locking in shared alarm. Outside, the sky darkened unnaturally, shadows twisting across the garden. Everyone hurried to the balcony, only to gasp in disbelief.
Multiple witches, clad in tattered black and swirling in ominous mist, were descending upon the mansion, their eyes gleaming with malice. At the forefront, Taamsi floated forward, her smirk cold and calculated.
Yuvaan's voice cut through the chaos, calm but sharp.
"Why have you come to my house, Taamsi? Come to mourn your mother's death?"
Chandrika stepped forward, her presence steady and radiant.
"You've come to the wrong place. Only happiness resides in this home."
Taamsi's smile widened, dangerous and knowing.
"I haven't come alone," she said, her voice dripping with menace. "This time, you will meet someone who even the gods fear."
From the shadows behind her, a figure slowly emerged—a bent, ancient woman whose aura radiated curses and power. Her wrinkled hands clutched a twisted staff, her eyes burned with a malevolent light.
She bowed mockingly to the family.
"I am Kalapishachi, the Cursed Matriarch," she announced, her voice like cracking stone.
"I wield the power to curse mortals, immortals, and even the divine. And today, this house, and all within it, will feel my wrath."
The family recoiled, yet Yuvaan's eyes narrowed, his stance protective as he moved instinctively in front of Kiara.
The wind howled louder, carrying the unmistakable threat of an ancient evil finally awake.
Kalapishachi's gaze pierced Yuvaan like a dagger, her cackling laughter echoing across the mansion grounds.
"I can feel it… your powers have faded, mortal," she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "Twenty-four hours of weakness, all because you dared to kneel before a god. Pathetic. But fear not, I shall give you a gift for such insolence."
With a swift motion of her gnarled staff, dark, gleaming daggers shot through the air, aimed at Yuvaan and his family. The air itself seemed to hiss as they whistled toward them. Panic erupted.
Yuvaan's lips tightened, but before he could react, Kiara stepped forward, raising a hand. The daggers froze midair, suspended as though time itself obeyed her.
"Yuvaan may have lost his powers for now," Kiara declared, her voice steady and fierce, "but don't forget—Jishwa is still here!"
With a sharp movement, she knocked the suspended daggers aside, sending them crashing harmlessly into the ground. Her eyes burned with a divine fire, her Trident mark glowing faintly on her back.
Kalapishachi's face twisted in fury.
"How dare you! You dare unite, even though fate intended you to destroy each other!" Her voice thundered, shaking the very air around them.
Turning her gaze to Yuvaan, she sneered, "And you… betrayer of your clan, betrayer of your destiny. You chose love over power, and now you will pay the price!"
With a swift incantation, a crimson sigil appeared in the sky, twisting and burning like molten fire. A cold, shivering dread settled over the family as Kalapishachi continued.
"Henceforth, you shall be cursed. One of you… will die. Even the smallest accident, the tiniest lapse… and the bond you hold so dearly will be torn asunder. No powers, no tricks, no gods will save you from this."
Everyone froze, the weight of the curse sinking in. The sky bled red, the sigil pulsing ominously as if the world itself had acknowledged the doom she had unleashed.
Yuvaan's hands clenched, his gaze locked on Kiara, his jaw tight. Kiara stood firm beside him, her hands trembling slightly but her courage unbroken.
The mansion, once a haven of joy and celebration, now felt like the stage for a trial of fate itself.
Kalapishachi's eyes blazed with cruel delight as she raised her staff one final time. The air around the mansion thickened, charged with a dark, suffocating energy.
"Hear me well, children of love and fate," she intoned, her voice a jagged whisper that cut through the wind. "The love you cherish, the bond that gives you strength… it will be your undoing. One of you will die by the hand of that very love—unless the other dies to let them live."
A shiver ran down every spine. Even the wind seemed to pause in fear.
Taamsi stepped forward, her smirk sharper than any blade. "Do you hear that, Yuvaan?" she taunted, her voice dripping venom. "Your Kiara… or should I say Jishwa… might not realize it yet. But you do. You know the legends. Kalapishachi's curses are never broken. Not by mortal, not by magic, not even by the gods themselves. And now…it has taken root."
Yuvaan's fists clenched, his heart heavy as he glanced at Kiara, who stood frozen, her eyes wide and full of terror. He could feel the weight of the curse pressing down on them both.
Without another word, Kalapishachi's dark form shimmered and vanished, along with her legion of witches. The sky cleared, the wind stilled, but the scar of her curse lingered, a haunting reminder etched into their fates.
The family remained rooted to the spot, speechless, hearts pounding, as the enormity of her words sank in. The laughter, the joy, the hope—all of it felt fragile now, balanced on the edge of a blade.
Yuvaan took a shaky step forward, placing his hand over Kiara's. His eyes met hers, burning with determination and fear. "I will protect you," he whispered, almost to himself. "No matter what… even if it costs me everything."
Kiara's lips trembled as she whispered back, "Then we face it together… whatever comes."
But deep in their hearts, both knew: Kalapishachi's curse was only the beginning.
Precap – Episode Teaser:
The air hung heavy with smoke and sorrow as the family gathered around the pyre, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames. Each crackle of fire seemed to echo the silent grief in their hearts.
Tears streaked down cheeks, hands trembled, and even the strongest among them felt the weight of a void that could not be filled. Chandrika whispered a broken prayer, while Vikram's hands clenched and unclenched as he stared at the fire.
"This… is the price of love," a voice choked out, carrying the weight of all they had endured, of all the battles, the sacrifices, and the moments of happiness that had now come to a painful halt.
Yet one question burned brighter than any flame—the question that none dared voice aloud: who has been taken from them?
The camera would linger on the dancing flames, the faces etched with heartbreak, the silent exchange of looks full of fear and disbelief. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting, as if even fate itself hesitated to reveal the answer.
Who has fallen… and who will survive the curse of love?