The golden evening light streamed into Kiara's bedroom, painting everything in a warm, lazy glow. She was sprawled on her bed, phone pressed to her ear, her brow furrowed in frustration.
"...and he just yanked me, Anya!" Kiara exclaimed, gesturing wildly even though her friend couldn't see her. "Like, I was about to trip over a boulder or something! And then he just stood there, all smirky and mysterious, and didn't even tell me why! Who does that?"
There was a dreamy sigh on the other end of the line. "Mmm, who cares why he pulled you?" Anya's voice was a hushed, thrilled whisper. "Did you feel his arms? They looked so strong. And the way he held you against his chest... Kiara, he is so unbelievably hot. That jawline, those lips... I would let him pull me anytime, anywhere."
Kiara sat bolt upright, her face scrunching up in disgust. "Ewww! Anya! What the fudge, gal! Have some decency! We're talking about the guy who insulted me and called me 'so-so'!"
"But he's a sexy villain," Anya countered, her voice still dreamy. "That's the best kind! I'm telling you, if I had one night with him... just one night to see if he's as intense as he looks..."
"Okay, I'm hanging up now," Kiara declared, her tone flat. "You've officially lost your mind. You're drooling over a guy who probably thinks the sun rises just to tan his perfect skin."
"Call me when he pulls you again!" Anya sang out, followed by a giggle before the line went dead.
Kiara tossed her phone onto the bed with a groan, falling back onto her pillows. She stared at the ceiling, Anya's words echoing in her head. Hot. Sexy. Intense. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts, but the memory of being pulled against him, the solid strength, the dark intensity of his gaze... a faint blush crept up her neck.
"Ugh, get a grip, Kiara," she muttered to herself, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow. But the image of Yuvaan's smirking face was stubbornly etched behind her eyelids.
The heavy door to the secret basement clicked shut, sealing Vikram and Varun in a world of shadows and whispered secrets. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dried herbs, a stark contrast to the bright, carefree world above.
Vikram paced the length of the worn stone table, his face etched with a worry he could never show in the light of day. "It was too close, Varun," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Right here, on campus. An invisible witch circle. I felt the magic, I saw her steps away from it, but I couldn't see the caster. They are here, walking among us, and they targeted your sister."
Varun, who had been quietly sharpening a silver-tipped arrow, looked up, his eyes hardening. "They're getting bolder because we're reacting, not acting. We're always one step behind, trying to protect a secret she doesn't even know she's carrying." He set the arrow down with a definitive click. "Father, we have to tell her. It's time."
Vikram stopped his pacing, turning a tormented gaze on his son. "No."
"Listen to me," Varun insisted, stepping forward. "If she knew, she would be wary. She would be careful. She wouldn't just wander into an invisible trap! Her ignorance is making her the perfect target. How long can we keep putting out fires around her without her ever knowing the house is burning?"
"Because the moment we tell her, her life is over!" Vikram's voice rose, filled with a father's desperate love. "The moment she knows, the weight of this... this legacy, this war, will crush her. She will never have a normal day again. She will look at every shadow, every stranger, with fear. I will not do that to my child. I will not strip her of her laughter, her light."
"So you would rather she live a happy, ignorant life until the day one of those shadows finally consumes her?" Varun shot back, his own frustration boiling over. "Is a happy lie better than a hard truth that could save her?"
"Yes!" Vikram's answer was immediate, raw with emotion. "If I can give her one more day of that normal life, one more hour of that carefree joy, I will fight every demon in hell to do it. She is my daughter first, Varun. Before she is a warrior, before she is a prophecy... she is my little girl. And I will let this world burn before I let that darkness touch her soul before it has to."
The two men stood facing each other, a chasm of love and strategy widening between them—the father who wanted to preserve a life, and the brother who wanted to arm his sister for the battle that was already at her doorstep.