At the Pratap Singh Mansion…
Aranya—now fully transformed into the spider witch—crept toward the family, her eight limbs tapping across the marble floor with a sickening rhythm. Her eyes gleamed with hunger and cruelty.
"Step aside," she hissed, voice echoing like a thousand whispers.
"I only need the boy. The rest of you may die later."
Susheela held Angad close. Vinod and Aakash stood in front, trembling yet unflinching. Riddhi clung to the couch where Yuvaan lay unconscious, refusing to move.
Varun struggled inside the sticky web binding his arms and torso.
"Don't you dare touch them!" he shouted, trying to free himself.
Aranya only smirked, lowering herself to the ground, her clawed limbs clicking.
"Touch them? Oh no…"
She leaned close, her breath cold against Riddhi's cheek.
"I'm going to tear through them."
She was just inches away—
When Bhoomi came running from the temple, her saree pallu flying behind her, her hands shaking but determined.
"HAIL THE GODDESS!" she cried, voice breaking yet fierce.
She flung holy water at Aranya.
The water sizzled the moment it touched her.
Aranya shrieked—
A loud, piercing, almost inhuman cry as smoke rose from her burning skin.
She writhed, twisting, claws scratching the floor.
But the effect faded quickly.
Aranya's head snapped toward Bhoomi, eyes glowing with murderous rage.
"You dare?" she hissed. "YOU?"
With one vicious movement, she shot webs from all her limbs— thick, glistening ropes of silk—
WHOOSH—WHOOSH—WHOOSH
—and trapped the entire family against the walls and floor.
Bhoomi screamed as the web tightened around her arms.
Vinod, Susheela, Chandrika, Riddhi, Aakash—none could move.
Varun struggled even harder, desperate and furious.
Aranya grinned, satisfied.
"Much better," she purred.
"Now… I'll take what I came for."
She turned toward Yuvaan's unconscious body—
Just as, miles away…
---
At the Cursed Island…
Kiara and Vikram sprinted up the ancient stone steps that spiraled into the clouds. The cursed island loomed ahead— vast, eerie, shimmering with broken magic.
The wind grew colder.
The silence deeper.
A temple stood at its center—broken pillars, twisted architecture, and torches burning with black flames.
Vikram swallowed. "Kiara… she's here."
Kiara stepped forward, jaw clenched, hands trembling with rage and fear.
They pushed open the heavy doors.
Inside—
Mist swirled across the cracked floor.
Ancient runes glowed faintly on the walls.
The stench of death and forgotten magic hung thick in the air.
And there…
on a throne of bones and vines…
sat Kalapishachi.
Unmoving.
Watching them with glowing silver eyes and a smile carved out of cruelty.
"Welcome, Jishwa," the witch whispered, voice slithering through the temple.
"I've been expecting you."
Kiara's breath hitched.
Vikram gripped his trident tighter.
The temple doors slammed shut behind them.
Inside the Cursed Temple…
Kalapishachi lounged on her grotesque throne, her brittle fingers tapping against bone as Kiara and Vikram stepped into the dim, cursed chamber.
Torches flickered with sickly green flames.
The air smelled of rot, forgotten souls, and old magic.
The witch lifted her wrinkled face, her lips curling into a taunting, mocking grin.
"So…" she croaked, voice slithering like poison,
"the little wife finally arrives."
Kiara's fists clenched, jaw tight, fury simmering beneath her skin.
Kalapishachi's milky eyes glinted wickedly.
"Did you come to beg for your husband's life?" she taunted, leaning forward.
"Three hours… that is all your precious warlock king has left."
Kiara's breath caught—three hours.
Her pulse hammered.
Her nails dug into her palms.
But Kalapishachi wasn't done.
"And even if you were to fall at my feet—"
her voice sharpened, slicing the air like a blade,
"—crying, begging, groveling…"
She tsked mockingly.
"I STILL wouldn't save him."
Kiara's rage trembled through her, but she stood unmoving, eyes blazing, the trident mark on her back humming faintly beneath her gown.
Vikram's hand tightened protectively on her shoulder.
But Kiara only whispered:
"I didn't come to beg."
A flicker of fear crossed the witch's eyes—but only for a moment.
---
At the Pratap Singh Mansion…
Back in the mansion, the atmosphere had thickened with terror.
Aranya—still in her terrifying spider form—crept toward the couch where Yuvaan lay motionless, breathing shallow, face pale.
Her claws clacked against the marble floor.
"Move aside," she hissed coldly, "or watch him die first."
Vinod struggled against the tangled web binding him.
Riddhi sobbed silently.
Bhoomi whispered prayers through trembling lips.
Chandrika shut her eyes, unable to watch.
Aranya reached her hand out to grab Yuvaan—
And suddenly something snapped around her wrist.
A braid.
A long, living braid of thick black hair twined around her limb like a serpent and yanked her backward.
Aranya screeched, stumbling as her grip broke.
Everyone turned toward the entrance—
And relief washed over the entire family.
There she stood.
Mishka.
Her long braid still alive with power.
Eyes blazing with fury.
Jewelry clinking against her embroidered outfit as she stepped inside.
Angad's face lit up instantly.
He whispered under his breath, heart thudding,
"My crush is here…"
Mishka didn't even spare him a glance.
Her gaze was locked on the spider witch.
"I leave the hunting job for one day," she said coldly,
"and you vermin start crawling in?"
Aranya growled, baring her fangs.
Mishka rolled her shoulders once.
"Let's finish this."
The temperature in the room dropped.
The real battle had begun.