Vikram drew his bow with steady fury and released an arrow straight at Kalapishachi.
But she didn't flinch. With a casual flick of her fingers, the arrow froze midair—then snapped back toward Vikram with lethal speed.
It would have pierced straight through his skull.
Kiara moved before thought. Her wounded body blurred into motion, and she stepped in front of Vikram, catching the arrow in her palm. The force jolted through her arm, blood sliding down her wrist, but her grip didn't loosen.
Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with rage.
"I won't let you hurt my loved ones anymore."
She flung the arrow aside, her eyes burning despite the blood matting her skin.
Kalapishachi gave a cold, cruel laugh.
"Look at you—weak, bleeding, shaking. And this is the divine power you're so proud of?"
Kiara lifted her chin.
"You're proud of your darkness. But today, I will break your pride. I'll show you what true divine power is."
She folded her hands, closing her eyes. The air around her shifted—pain, fear, devotion, all gathering inside her like a storm.
Her thoughts whispered upward:
"Today I will not call on the Tridev who sent me. Today, I call upon their consorts—the Tridevi. You are women. You know the lengths a wife will go to save her husband. I don't know the full extent of my powers… so I ask for your guidance. Show me the path."
Kalapishachi sneered, voice dripping poison.
"What now? Meditating? Or visualizing the faces of your loved ones before you die?"
She lifted her arm, sending the cursed crows swarming again—
a black tide of death.
But before they could reach Kiara, a deafening roar tore through the island.
A massive tiger—colossal, golden, radiant—manifested behind Kiara, its mane blazing like sunlight turned to flame. With one swipe of its ethereal claws, the crows burst into ashes midair.
Kalapishachi staggered back, disbelief widening her eyes.
Even Vikram stood frozen, breath caught, staring at the divine beast standing guard behind his daughter.
Kiara opened her eyes slowly, the golden glow reflecting in them.
Kiara slowly turned, breath catching as her eyes met the sight behind her.
The golden tiger stood tall—muscles rippling beneath its luminous form, each strand of its glowing fur fluttering in the supernatural wind. Its molten eyes regarded her with a calm, protective divinity, the faint shimmer of sacred fire swirling around its paws. Kiara's face softened with awe, and she folded her hands reverently.
"The goddesses… they heard me," she whispered, voice trembling with gratitude and power.
Just then—
Vermillion rained from the sky.
Not sprinkled.
Not drifting.
But pouring—like a shower of sacred red light cascading over her head and shoulders.
The instant the vermillion touched her skin, the entire cursed island responded. A violent gust of wind exploded outward, whipping her hair wildly in every direction—each strand glinting with faint gold under the divine energy.
Her breath hitched.
A burning sensation—hot, electric, ancient—flared across her upper back.
Kiara's eyes widened.
Her Trident mark blazed to life, brighter than ever before—golden fire swirling inside its intricate lines, pulsing with raw celestial force. It wasn't just glowing… it was alive.
Drawn by instinct, Kiara reached back with trembling fingers, brushing the burning sigil.
And the impossible happened.
The mark ripped open in a burst of golden light, and from within it, a weapon emerged—
The Jishwa Trishul.
It manifested slowly at first, the outline forming like molten gold taking shape. Then it solidified—three blazing prongs, a shaft carved with ancient runes, the entire weapon emanating a divine hum.
Kiara wrapped her fingers around it.
The moment her hand closed around the Trishul, the earth beneath her feet cracked with divine force. A fierce glow erupted around her, encircling her like a burning halo.
She stepped forward, raising the weapon, her stance instinctive—commanding—Goddess-like.
The winds coiled around her form, rippling her torn clothes, her vermillion-soaked forehead shining like a beacon of Shakti.
For a moment… she was no longer just Kiara.
She was the awakened Jishwa.
Vikram watched, breath stolen from his chest, eyes filling with reverence. He folded his hands, bowing without even realizing it.
"My child…" he murmured, voice thick. "You are blessed."
Kalapishachi, who had faced centuries of darkness, took an involuntary step back.
Her expression—usually arrogant, composed—fractured.
Her lips parted.
"No… this is not possible," she whispered, trembling.
"A Tridevi's boon… manifested in flesh? In YOU?"
Kiara lifted the Trishul, its divine light reflecting in her fearless eyes.
Kalapishachi had lived a thousand years.
But this was the first time she truly looked afraid.
To be continued…