The Reeva tracking dust led Vikram deep into the jungle, the shimmering path cutting through the dense foliage like a silver serpent. The air grew heavy and still. Then, he heard it—a soft, pathetic weeping.
Ahead, a young woman in a tattered dress sat slumped against a tree, her shoulders shaking. She looked up as he approached, her face streaked with tears. "Help me, please," she whimpered, holding out a trembling hand. "I'm lost... I'm so scared."
Vikram's expression didn't change. "A classic illusion," he stated, his voice flat. In one swift motion, he pulled a pouch from his belt and flung a handful of brilliant blue powder—Truth-Seer's Ash—directly at her.
The moment the dust touched her, the illusion shattered. The wounded girl contorted, her form twisting and elongating. With an ear-piercing shriek, the creature launched itself backwards, landing with unnatural grace on a high branch. It was the Chudail, her true form revealed—haggard, with long, matted hair and eyes burning with hatred.
"You caught me," she hissed, baring needle-like teeth.
"I have been a Reeva hunter for twenty-five years," Vikram replied, his voice cold steel. "Do you really think such a pathetic illusion can trick me?"
The Chudail let out a cackle. "You cannot kill me, old man. My kind is not so easily ended."
"Let's test that theory," Vikram said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like an ordinary silver pen. With a twist of his wrist, it elongated and transformed, metal flowing and reshaping until he held a magnificent, elegantly carved bow. A quiver of arrows, their tips glowing with a faint, holy light, materialized on his back.
He nocked an arrow in a single, fluid motion, the string pulled taut. The Chudail's eyes widened in recognition and fear. She shrieked and launched herself from the branch, claws extended, diving straight for him.
Vikram didn't flinch. He released the arrow.
It flew true, striking the Chudail in the chest with a sizzling sound. The force hurled her backwards, pinning her to the thick trunk of a banyan tree. She screamed, not in pain, but in rage, struggling against the enchanted shaft that held her fast.
Vikram advanced, already unspooling a thin, silver thread from another pouch. He threw it towards her, and as it flew, it expanded, weaving itself into a complex, unbreakable net of light that bound her tightly to the tree.
He stood before her, his gaze unwavering. "Why?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Why are your kind killing girls across my city?"
The Chudail spat, struggling against her bonds. "You won't be able to stop us! She will be found!"
Vikram's mind, sharpened by decades of war, connected the threads. The eclipse-born girls. The preemptive killings. "You're trying to kill Jishwa," he concluded, the realization chilling him to the bone. "You're trying to murder her before she can even awaken."
The Chudail's snarling smile was confirmation enough. "You are smart, hunter."
A slow, grim smile of his own touched Vikram's lips. A crucial piece of the puzzle fell into place. "This also means something else," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It means you... are all unaware of who Jishwa truly is. You're hunting blindly."
For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed the Chudail's face. The hunter wasn't just fighting back; he knew something they didn't.
The Chudail let out a rasping, mocking laugh that echoed through the jungle. "Your hope is pathetic, hunter! The Kaal Vansh is rising! We will slaughter every last Reeva hunter and paint this city in your blood!"
Vikram stood firm, his expression one of unwavering faith. "Is that why you scurry in the shadows, killing innocent girls? Out of fear?" He took a step closer, his voice gaining a resonant, powerful tone. "That is why Jishwa is here. To protect us. To eradicate every last one of your kind from this earth. She is not just a Reeva hunter."
He looked toward the city skyline, visible through the canopy, as if he could see the very soul he was sworn to protect.
"She is a God-Gift. She possesses a power your dark mind cannot comprehend. And not even your reborn king, Kaal himself, will be able to stand against her when she awakens." He turned his piercing gaze back to the bound creature. "What did you witches think? That you could simply find Jishwa and slit her throat?"
A triumphant, knowing smile touched his lips. "Fools. Her powers may lie dormant, but she is still shielded by a divine protection, a grace placed upon her by the Tridev themselves. Wherever she is, she is safe from your petty evil."
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Meanwhile, in the Shetty mansion, Kiara stood under the warm spray of the shower, letting the water wash away the last remnants of her frustration and the strange, hazy memories of the night before. As the water cascaded over her skin, something stirred.
Unseen by her, hidden just below her right shoulder blade, the intricate Trident tattoo—the Mark of the Trishul—flickered. A soft, golden light pulsed within its lines, a silent, divine echo responding to the declaration of faith made miles away in the jungle. It lasted only for a heartbeat before fading, leaving no trace.
But its effect was immediate. On the bathroom windowsill, a pot of dormant jasmine flowers suddenly shuddered. Before Kiara's unaware eyes, tight green buds swelled and burst open, filling the steamy air with a sudden, profound, and inexplicable fragrance.
Kiara, lost in her own thoughts, simply breathed in the sweet scent, a small, peaceful smile gracing her lips, completely oblivious to the divine power that had just stirred within her, answering its call.
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