The ground still trembled beneath their feet as Yuvaan stepped slightly forward, shielding Kiara with unwavering resolve. His voice, though steady, carried a note of challenge.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
The veiled figure tilted her head, her presence cold yet commanding. A smile, sharp and knowing, curved beneath the shadow of her veil.
"What are you saying?" she asked, her voice smooth and chilling. "How can the celebration be complete if the family… isn't complete?"
A ripple of confusion ran through the family. Bhoomi, Chandrika, Vikram, Kajal — all glanced at one another, fear and disbelief clouding their expressions.
Then, with a deliberate, graceful motion, the woman lifted her veil.
The air seemed to thicken. The shadows in the hall deepened, coiling around her like dark smoke.
Her face was striking, regal, and terrifying — the aura of a legend that had haunted whispered tales for centuries.
The room fell silent, breaths caught in every chest.
Yuvaan's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Mohana…?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
She inclined her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her piercing gaze.
"Yes… Mohana," she confirmed, each syllable heavy with power. "Your maternal aunt."
Shock reverberated through Yuvaan, Kiara, and even the family behind them. The festive hall, once filled with balloons, confetti, and laughter, now stood tense under the shadow of a dark legacy come to life.
The horde of dark forces behind Mohana shifted slightly, their anticipation palpable. Every eye was fixed on the couple — the threat unmistakable.
The calm of the celebration had ended. A storm, far older and far deadlier, had arrived.
Kiara's grip on Yuvaan's hand tightened, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"You know her…?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Yuvaan's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking toward the veiled woman as a shiver ran down his spine.
Mohana moved with deliberate grace, seating herself on the couch as though the hall itself bowed to her presence. Her gaze swept over the family, calm yet radiating undeniable authority.
"Oh, you don't know me," she said smoothly, her voice laced with a chilling elegance. "But your husband," she paused, eyes locking on Yuvaan, "the ex-Warlock King… he knows me. He is connected to me — perhaps not in this lifetime, but in the previous one. His soul remembers what this world has forgotten."
A cold silence filled the hall as the weight of her words sank in.
"I am the elder sister of his original witch mother… the one tied to the root of Evil,Maha Daakini Kalashree," she added, her tone almost casual, though the implication was catastrophic.
Gasps escaped from the family. Bhoomi clutched Yuvaan's arm, Kajal pressed a hand to her mouth, and Chandrika's eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
Vikram's knees nearly buckled. Memories of whispered legends, fearful tales he had heard in his youth as a Reevavanshi, collided with the impossible reality before him. The legendary Mohana — the witch whose name had haunted stories and nightmares alike — was standing in front of him. Alive. Powerful. And demanding attention.
Yuvaan's hand tightened around Kiara's, his face a mix of fury and apprehension.
The celebration had vanished. In its place stood history, vengeance, and power older than any of them could fathom.
Yuvaan's voice rang sharp, laced with anger and disbelief.
"What are you doing in my house?" he demanded. "Did you lose your way or something?"
Mohana tilted her head slightly, a low, amused chuckle slipping from her lips.
"No, son," she said, her voice silk and steel intertwined. "I've come exactly where I intended to. This… is my destination. This is my nephew's house."
Yuvaan's jaw tightened, eyes blazing.
"I am not your nephew!" he shouted, stepping forward, fists clenched.
The room seemed to shudder as Mohana's presence flared. Her voice rose, carrying a resonance that made the walls tremble and the air vibrate.
"Shut up!" she bellowed. "No matter how many times you are reborn, Yuvaan… you are always Kaal, my nephew. Do not even try to deny this bond, or I will truly grow angry."
Kiara stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, her voice steady but laced with curiosity and challenge.
"You didn't just come here because of him," she said pointedly. "You missed someone else, didn't you? Tell us—oh, I have a nephew in the city of Delhi whom I haven't seen in his recent lifetime. And then… you took a bus or whatever and came straight here? So… why are you really here?"
Mohana's emerald eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and icy reprimand.
"What is this insolence?" she snapped, rising to her full, imposing height. "Absolutely no manners! How dare you speak to your aunt-in-law like this? And you… you even killed your mother-in-law, Kalashree! Truly, you are a terrible daughter-in-law!"
Her words hit like a whip across the hall. The family froze, Yuvaan's anger spiking, Kiara's hands tightening around his, and the air thickened with the ancient power radiating from Mohana.
It was clear — this was not a casual visit. Every syllable, every glare, carried the weight of centuries of grudges, power, and dark intentions.