SHETTY BASEMENT — NIGHT
The basement breathes with silence.
Only the faint bubbling of the cauldron breaks the stillness, its soft glow pushing back the darkness in gentle pulses. Shadows move across the stone walls like living things, stretching and curling each time the liquid inside the pot hisses.
Vikram stands over the table, shoulders tight, expression unreadable.
Varun hovers beside him, watching every movement with a quiet unease neither of them speaks about.
Vikram finally dips his fingers into the potion.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then the Reeva Grimoire on the far shelf gives a soft tremble.
Barely there… like a heartbeat.
Then another.
Then harder.
Before either of them can react, the book shudders violently.
WHOOSH—
Its pages begin to turn, slow at first, then faster, flipping as though an unseen wind is trapped inside the room.
Varun rushes forward, hands gripping the covers to steady it.
His voice is low, almost a whisper.
"Dad… it is reacting again."
The pages slow… then stop.
A single sigil glows faintly on the parchment, as if lit from beneath. Vikram steps closer, eyes narrowing as he reads the carefully etched script. His breath leaves him in a quiet, controlled exhale.
> Shuddh-Agnijaal.
A divine potion.
Formed only through purposeful creation.
A shield against dark or cursed essence.
The words settle over the room like dust.
Vikram says nothing at first.
He simply stares at the page, the lantern's flame trembling in front of him.
When he finally speaks, his voice is soft… steady… too steady.
"This is not instinct magic. Someone meant for this to exist. They crafted it with a clear intention. And only someone with access to divine knowledge could do it."
Varun watches him carefully, trying to read the thoughts passing through his father's mind.
"But Kiara didn't make this," he says quietly.
"She wouldn't. She wouldn't push Yuvaan away. She wants him close. She always has."
Vikram nods… slowly.
A thoughtful, controlled motion.
"That is exactly what makes this unsettling," he says.
"Kiara has divine blessing. Everyone knows that. She has nothing to hide. Nothing to gain from creating something that repels Yuvaan."
Varun steps back, almost unconsciously, the golden residue on Vikram's fingertips catching his eye.
It glows faintly… then fades… then glows again, as if breathing.
"So if Kiara didn't create it," Varun murmurs, "someone else did. Someone who knows divine recipes. Someone who knows exactly what this potion would do to Yuvaan."
The idea hangs heavy in the air, like smoke.
Vikram lowers his hand slowly, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to trace the threads of a puzzle no one has noticed being woven.
"Whoever did this," he says after a long silence, "had access to rare ingredients. Ingredients that don't just appear. Ingredients that aren't meant for anyone to touch."
The lantern flickers, dipping the basement into momentary darkness before the light recovers.
Varun watches the shadows dance for a moment, then speaks even softer than before.
"Dad… this wasn't an accident."
His words land gently, almost afraid to disturb the air.
"Someone wants Kiara protected from Yuvaan."
Vikram closes the grimoire with deliberate slowness.
No rush.
No panic.
Just a man weighing every possibility.
"And if that someone can create a divine shield…" he says, each word measured, "then we are dealing with a force far more calculated… and far more powerful… than anything we have faced."
Neither father nor son moves.
They simply stand there, the weight of the unknown pressing down on both.
Varun finally breathes the question neither wants to ask.
"Who would want Kiara away from Yuvaan… and why?"
The basement answers with silence.
A long, stretching silence that feels like the beginning of something neither of them are prepared for.
---
PRATAP SINGH MANSION — GRAND HALL
The reception glows with soft lights and laughter. The music hums gently in the background as Kiara stands beside Yuvaan, surrounded by the family.
Bhoomi leans closer with a warm smile.
"So Ruchi, you and Kiara grew up together?"
Kiara laughs softly.
"Ruchi and I were impossible back then. We used to fight over everything. She says I never gave her my toys."
Ruchi lifts her chin in mock annoyance.
"That's because you didn't! I used to come running to uncle complaining every day."
The family chuckles.
Chandrika waves her hand.
"Children do this. Even Aakash never shared toys with Angad. Not a single one."
Aakash looks offended.
"Moti baa, that's not true. I shared sometimes."
Angad snorts.
"Yeah, when your toys were broken."
Everyone laughs again, light-hearted and warm.
But the warmth doesn't reach one corner of the hall.
Dev stands there, half-hidden, watching them. His eyes follow Kiara carefully. His presence is quiet… too quiet.
He lifts a finger very slightly—just a subtle gesture.
The flowers in the vase behind him tremble…
…then shift color.
Soft pink begins bleeding into their white petals, spreading slowly like ink in water.
Susheela, walking past with a tray, stops abruptly.
Her eyes widen.
"Arey… in this house anything can happen," she mutters under her breath, frowning at the flowers as if they changed color out of boredom.
She shrugs and moves on.
Dev doesn't even blink.
The flowers return to stillness.
No one else notices.
Kiara chats with the family, unaware of the silent forces rising around her. The laughter continues—gentle, innocent…
…while Dev watches her with the kind of patience that promises danger, not haste.