✨ Pratap Singh Mansion ✨
The hall was taut with silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the sacred fire around the mandap. Yuvaan's gaze cut through the crowd of family members moving against him, their steps hesitant yet eerily coordinated.
Suddenly, with a deafening thud, a cage descended from above, crashing down and trapping them. Screams echoed as the family scrambled, their strength useless against the divine enchantment. Dust swirled in the air, the metallic bars glinting ominously in the hall's light.
A deep, mocking laugh rang out.
Varun and Dilruba stepped into the hall, their presence commanding attention. Varun's eyes were sharp, unwavering, while Dilruba's fox-fire shimmered faintly around her, marking her power.
"We did it," Varun said simply, a hint of pride in his voice.
Dev's red eyes flared, heat radiating as he extended his hands. A ring of blazing fire erupted around the mandap, the flames rising impossibly high, cutting off all paths of approach. Smoke coiled upward, carrying the scent of scorched incense and warning.
The priest froze, his hands trembling over the ceremonial scriptures. The sacred fire reflected in his wide, terrified eyes.
Dev stepped closer to the priest, his voice low, dangerous.
"Continue the ritual. Do not falter. One misstep, and the consequences will be… unpleasant," he warned, his smile sharp and cruel.
Yuvaan's chest heaved as he took a step forward, determined to breach the ring. Flames licked hungrily at the edges of his vision, dancing like living serpents.
"Yuvaan, wait!" Varun called, grabbing his arm. "You cannot pass through that! It's divine fire!"
The flames roared in response, rising higher, coiling around the mandap with unyielding intensity. Sparks shot into the air, scorching the polished marble floor. The heat was oppressive, suffocating, yet beautiful in its terrible majesty.
Yuvaan's gaze met Varun's, burning with fury and frustration. The pull toward Kiara was irresistible, yet each step forward threatened to engulf him.
Varun's grip tightened, holding him back.
"This is no ordinary flame," Varun said, voice grim. "It reacts to her, to him, to anyone who dares interfere. If you try to cross it… it will consume you."
The priest trembled again, hands shaking as he glanced between Dev, the blazing ring, and the desperate bridegroom frozen by desire and fear.
And at the center of it all, Dev's face was the picture of triumph—eyes glittering with anticipation, the fire responding to his will, the mandap sealed by divine power, and the chaos bending to his carefully laid plan.
Every heartbeat in the hall echoed like a drum of war.
The seventh circumambulation loomed. The priest's voice trembled as he intoned the sacred chants, the rhythm echoing through the grand hall. Dev's hand remained tight around Kiara's, guiding her unwilling steps around the fire.
Kiara's chest heaved, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She refused to move, her body stiff, her gaze fixed on the distance as if seeking an escape that didn't exist.
"Let go of my hand," she said, voice trembling yet firm, every syllable dripping with defiance.
Dev's red-tinged eyes glimmered dangerously. A slow smile curved his lips.
"Don't try to resist, Kiara," he said, his voice low, smooth, commanding. "I am Agnishwa. I am far more powerful than you. Don't try to fight me."
He leaned slightly closer, his grip unyielding, the fire around the mandap reacting subtly, flaring higher as if echoing his words.
"Behave… like a nice girl," he added, the cruel satisfaction in his tone chilling the air.
Kiara's jaw tightened. Her knuckles whitened around her own folded hands, yet she did not budge. Silent, unwavering, she refused to let her steps follow his will. Every heartbeat in the hall seemed to amplify the tension, every whispered chant from the priest a fragile reminder of the sanctity Dev sought to pervert.
The flames around the mandap flickered, caught between obedience to Dev's power and the invisible resistance of Kiara's will. The air smelled of scorched incense and smoldering tension, thick enough to taste.
Kiara's eyes, brimming with tears and fierce determination, met Dev's. No words, no threats, no force could break her resolve—her silent defiance shone brighter than the fire that surrounded them.
Dev's grip on Kiara's hand was ironclad, his crimson eyes glowing with a dangerous intensity. "Look around, Kiara," he said, voice low and controlled. "Everyone is trapped. No one can stop this marriage. You might as well comply."
Kiara's chest heaved. Her gaze swept across the hall, taking in the frozen, tense faces of her family, bound invisibly by his magic. Her hands trembled—but she refused to submit.
"Let go of my hand," she spat, her voice sharp with defiance.
Dev's smile twisted. "Don't be stubborn. I am Agnishwa. I am far more powerful than you. Just behave like a good girl."
Kiara's eyes blazed. Her voice rose in anger and determination:
"Let go of my hand!"
The command left her lips, but this time it carried more than words. A pulse of divine energy surged from her, raw and untamed.
Rocks from the floor lifted into the air, spinning slowly. Sofas and chairs rose, tilting and drifting. Vases hovered, fragile yet unyielding, and all the furniture seemed to dance in the air, drawn by Kiara's unbridled will.
Her skirts fluttered, her hair lifted, and her palms glowed faintly as she poured every ounce of her power into the act. Her heart pounded, not with fear, but with righteous fury.
Dev's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his smug composure. He had underestimated her.
"You—" he began, his voice cutting through the air, but Kiara ignored him. Every object suspended midair became a shield, a statement, a declaration of her refusal.
The hall trembled with the sheer force of her magic. Dust fell from the ceiling, the flicker of candles shook, yet Kiara stood firm, the eye of a storm in the center of the chaos she had conjured.
Her voice, steady and commanding, rang out once more:
"Let go of my hand, Dev. I will not let you force me!"
The world around them seemed to pause, the floating objects hanging midair as if awaiting the next move, a silent testament to the power she had just unleashed.