Back at the college, Angad paced nervously near the parking lot, his phone pressed to his ear. The automated "number unreachable" message only fueled his anxiety. "Not again," he muttered. "Did he just leave without me again?"
Mishka approached him quietly, her expression unreadable. "You seem troubled, Angad. What's wrong?"
"It's my brother," Angad explained, running a hand through his hair. "I can't reach him. I think he went home without me... again."
Mishka's gaze was steady, her voice carrying a subtle weight. "Not everything you see is real, Angad. Remember that." With those cryptic words, she turned and walked away, leaving him more confused than before.
Just then, Vikram Shetty strode into the parking lot, his face a mask of controlled urgency. He had just spoken to Professor Ragini, who had smoothly lied that Kiara and Yuvaan had stayed behind to "fetch a note."
"Angad," Vikram said, his voice tight. "Have you seen Yuvaan or Kiara?"
"I was just looking for Bhaiya!" Angad replied. "His phone's unreachable. I searched everywhere for him and Kiara, but they've vanished."
A cold dread settled in Vikram's stomach. He tried Kiara's number himself, his knuckles white as he gripped the phone. Unreachable.
"Principal Shetty," Angad continued, hesitant, "don't misunderstand me, but... when they joined us to leave the palace, they were acting strange. Like robots. They were completely still and silent the whole bus ride back."
That was all the confirmation Vikram needed. The pieces clicked into place: Ragini's too-convenient lie, the unreachable phones, the bizarre behavior Angad described. It was an illusion. His daughter was not safe; she was still trapped in that cursed palace with a boy he deeply suspected was the reborn Warlock King.
Keeping his expression neutral for Angad's sake, Vikram placed a calming hand on the young man's shoulder. "Go home, son. I'm sure Yuvaan is already there."
Relieved, Angad nodded and headed off.
The moment he was out of sight, Vikram's composure shattered. He yanked out his phone and dialed Varun, his voice a low, urgent command.
"Varun. It's happening. Bring the gear. All of it. Kiara is still in the palace. Meet me there now."
The last sliver of daylight vanished from the hole above, plunging the chamber into absolute, suffocating darkness. At that exact moment, the glow from Kiara's phone screen flickered and died, the battery icon disappearing into blackness.
A strangled gasp escaped her. "No… no, no…"
The darkness wasn't just an absence of light; it was a physical weight, pressing down on her, stealing the air from her lungs. Her breathing became ragged, shallow pants. A cold sweat broke out across her skin, beading on her forehead and soaking her clothes in an instant. She stumbled back, her hands clutching at her throat.
"Kiara?" Yuvaan's voice cut through the panic, sharp and different from his earlier teasing. He could hear the sheer, unadulterated terror in her breathing. "What's wrong with you?"
She couldn't form words. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees, hugging herself tightly. "I can't… the dark… the walls… they're closing in," she managed to choke out between gasps, her whole body trembling violently. "I can't breathe."
The raw, visceral nature of her phobia was undeniable. This wasn't a ploy or an act. It was a primal, debilitating fear.
Seeing her in such a state, drenched in sweat and shaking, a strange, unfamiliar sensation twisted in Yuvaan's chest—concern. Without a second thought, he pulled his black shirt over his head, the fabric whispering in the dark.
"Hey, look at me," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. He knelt before her, his perfectly sculpted torso now bare in the gloom. Gently, he used the soft fabric of his shirt to dab the sweat from her forehead and temples. "Breathe. Just breathe. I'm here."
The gesture was so unexpectedly tender that it broke through the last of Kiara's control. A sob wracked her body, and in a blind search for an anchor in her spiraling world, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, pressing her face against the warm, solid skin of his chest.
The romantic tension was instantaneous and electric. She was clinging to a shirtless Yuvaan in the dark, her frantic heartbeat thudding against his. But the moment transcended physical attraction. Yuvaan, for perhaps the first time, set aside his games. He didn't tease or smirk. Instead, he brought one hand up and gently placed it on the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair in a soothing, rhythmic motion.
"Shhh," he murmured, his voice a low vibration against her ear. "I've got you. The darkness can't hurt you. I won't let it."
In the heart of the haunted palace, the villain became a sanctuary.
---
"I'll find a way out. I promise," Yuvaan murmured, his voice a steady anchor in Kiara's storm of fear. His calm assurance, so different from his usual taunts, slowly seeped into her, easing the tightness in her chest. As her breathing evened out, she found herself staring at him, truly seeing him in the dimness. His fair, sculpted torso, the defined lines of his abdomen—it was a sight that, despite her terror, caught her eye and held it.
He stood, a figure of impossible composure in the chaos. He walked purposefully to a massive, faded portrait of the murderous queen herself. While Kiara expected him to search for a hidden lever, he simply placed his palms flat on the canvas and pushed. With a groan of protesting stone, the entire portrait, frame and all, swung inward, revealing a dark, narrow passageway—a hidden exit.
He returned to her side. Without a word, he swept her up into his arms, his movement fluid and effortless. Exhausted by her panic attack and the emotional whiplash, Kiara didn't protest. She rested her head against his shoulder, and the steady rhythm of his footsteps lulled her into an uneasy sleep.
He carried her out of the suffocating chamber and into the vast, moonlit main hall of the palace, laying her down softly on a relatively clean patch of floor. He noticed the protective locket around her neck glinting in the pale light.
A smirk touched his lips. "This should keep you safe for now," he whispered to her sleeping form. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he wove a shimmering, soundproof barrier of dark energy around her, a invisible dome that would shield her from sight and sound.
Then, he turned, his demeanor shifting from protector to predator. His voice, laced with dark amusement, echoed in the empty hall.
"You can stop skulking in the shadows now, Mrs. Manju. Don't be shy. Come out and play."
From the darkness, a low, furious hiss answered him. Manjulika began to materialize, her form coalescing from the gloom, her rotted face contorted in rage. Yuvaan had known she was there all along.
---
On a distant highway, Vikram's car sped through the night, the headlights cutting a desperate path toward the Rana Palace. But they were still far away, racing against a clock they didn't know was already ticking down.