✨ Pratap Singh Mansion ✨
The wedding hall glittered with lights and colors, but amidst the chaos, a single tear carried the weight of a desperate heart. Kiara's whispered prayer, her silent plea to the Tridev, had found its way upward, unseen, unheard—until the impossible happened.
The tear floated delicately through the air, a droplet of pure devotion, drifting toward the room where Yuvaan lay unconscious. It fell gently, landing on his chest, warm and glimmering.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then slowly, miraculously, the unnatural pallor of his hair began to recede. The white strands darkened, returning to their natural black as if the life force had been restored. His body, which had been heating with feverish danger, cooled, the lines of suffering softening.
A soft, almost imperceptible breath escaped his lips. His eyelids fluttered.
"Kiara…"
Kiara, unaware, opened her eyes, wiped her face, and took a shaky breath. She turned back toward dev in the mandap, where the wedding preparations continued, forcing herself to mask her fear with composure. She didn't see the tear, didn't know the path it would take.
The air around the temple seemed to still for a moment, charged with the intensity of her prayer. Yet in her mind, it was just a silent plea—an unseen offering, a desperate hope whispered into the divine
The priest's voice echoed solemnly through the grand hall, chanting the sacred mantras that filled the air with an almost tangible weight. Dev's eyes sparkled with triumph, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Every gesture, every word of the priest seemed to fuel the progress of the ceremony Dev had long planned.
Kiara walked beside him, her hands trembling slightly, her eyes distant, haunted by worry. She repeated the steps mechanically, reciting the mantras under her breath, all the while keeping her heart focused on Yuvaan—her mind silently begging the divine to protect him.
The priest's instructions came with measured gravity. "Now, begin the circumambulation around the sacred fire. For the sixth round, may your union be sealed."
Kiara's steps faltered slightly as they circled the fire. She felt Dev's hand on hers, warm, firm, possessive. His smile whispered of victory.
And then, suddenly, a shout shattered the ritual's rhythm:
"Stop!"
Every chant, every flicker of the sacred flame seemed to freeze. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Gasps echoed like a wave through the hall.
There, at the entrance, stood Yuvaan. His hair gleamed as dark as ever. His eyes blazed with life and determination. His entire being radiated strength and vitality. He looked perfectly fine, as if the shadow of death had never touched him.
Kiara's chest tightened, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to only him. Her eyes shone with tears, and a trembling smile broke across her face. Without thinking, she tried to rush forward toward him.
But Dev's hand clamped over hers, pulling her back with an effortless strength. His red eyes glimmered, unreadable, as his lips curled into a cold, victorious smile.
"This marriage," he whispered softly, almost mockingly, "cannot be stopped."
Kiara froze, torn between the joy of seeing Yuvaan alive and the terrifying reality of Dev's grip. The hall seemed to shrink around her—the flames of the sacred fire reflecting the fire in her heart, her desperate plea for Yuvaan clashing with Dev's unyielding control.
Shock and confusion rippled through the family. Some stepped back instinctively. Others whispered prayers under their breath. Yet Dev's calm, commanding presence held the moment frozen like a knife poised above the air.
Kiara's heart thundered, her mind racing. How had Yuvaan come back? How had he survived? And yet, despite the miracle, Dev's hand still held hers, a reminder that the game was far from over.
The sacred fire flickered, the priest's chants faltered, and the air thickened with tension, waiting for the next move in this deadly dance.
Kiara's gaze snapped to Dev, her voice sharp, trembling with equal parts anger and relief.
"Yuvaan is fine," she said, voice echoing through the hall. "So there's no reason for this… for us to marry."
Dev's eyes, glowing faintly red, narrowed slightly. A slow, deliberate smile spread across his face.
"Who cares if he's alive or dead?" he replied coldly, almost playfully. "We will marry. That is the point."
Yuvaan stepped forward, his voice low but piercing, carrying the weight of authority and fury.
"Let go of her hand, Dev."
Kiara's heart sank. A sudden realization struck her, and her voice faltered.
"This… this means you wanted to marry me from the beginning," she whispered, disbelief and fury burning in her eyes. "You were the reason Yuvaan was in danger!"
Dev lifted his chin, pride and triumph radiating from his every movement.
"Yes," he said calmly, almost reverently. "I created the protection on you that night, on your balcony, after your wedding with Yuvaan. That divine fog you inhaled… I infused it. You sensed my presence then, didn't you, Kiara?"
Kiara's mind flashed back—her footsteps to the balcony that night, the uncanny shiver in the air, the sense of an unseen presence watching her.
"Because of that," Dev continued, his eyes flickering with cold amusement, "whenever Yuvaan touches you, he suffers. His condition deteriorated because of me, not by chance."
Yuvaan's fists clenched. His voice trembled with controlled rage.
"You had no right to meddle with Kiara and I!"
Dev tilted his head, amused by the warlock king's indignation.
"You are no longer the Warlock King," he said slowly, savoring each word. "You sacrificed your powers. You are… powerless against me now."
The hall seemed to shrink around them as Dev's next words dropped like a hammer.
"I have the entire family under my control. Every last one of them."
Yuvaan's eyes widened, scanning the hall. Family members who had seemed distressed moments ago now moved subtly, positions shifting in uncanny synchrony. Dev's command resonated silently through them.
"Stop him," Dev ordered. "Do not let him reach the mandap."
Chaos erupted in quiet, controlled bursts—hands subtly restraining, feet blocking, eyes following orders they didn't realize they were obeying.
Kiara's heart pounded. Her hand strained in Dev's grip. Yuvaan's jaw tightened. And in that frozen, suffocating moment, the hall was no longer just a wedding venue—it was a battlefield of wills, love, and betrayal.
The sacred fire flickered, mirroring the storm of tension, illuminating faces twisted by loyalty, fear, or compulsion.
And at the center of it all, Dev stood calm, triumphant, as if the world itself bent to the force of his desire.
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To be continued…