Meanwhile, the storm raged fiercer than ever, lightning carving brief flashes of silver through the jungle night.
Vikram struggled against the writhing roots that coiled around his limbs, their ends glowing faintly with dark energy. The more he fought, the tighter they constricted, draining his strength.
Yuvaan stood before him, calm and eerily composed, his eyes glowing with a dangerous crimson glint. "You should've known better than to challenge a Warlock King," he said softly, almost pitying.
Before Vikram could respond, a furious voice sliced through the rain.
"Stay away from my father!"
Varun burst through the trees, his reeva talwar gleaming with divine energy. He charged straight for Yuvaan, his every movement sharp with rage and desperation.
Yuvaan sidestepped with effortless grace, his long dark hair whipping through the air as Varun's blade missed him by inches. "Ah," Yuvaan murmured, turning his head slightly. "The loyal son."
Varun spun and lunged again—but Yuvaan caught the sword mid-swing with two fingers. With a casual twist, the weapon snapped in half like glass.
"Your bravery is admirable," Yuvaan said with a mocking smile. "Utterly useless—but admirable."
He snapped his fingers once. In an instant, Varun's body was lifted off the ground, invisible bindings coiling around him like serpents. He struggled, but his limbs refused to obey.
Yuvaan's tone turned darkly playful. "Now then," he said, pacing around the bound men. "The father-in-law…" He glanced at Vikram, who glared up in defiance. "…the brother-in-law…" He gestured toward Varun.
Then, with another snap of his fingers, the air shimmered. Mishka appeared in front of them—trapped within a translucent magical cage, her braid undone, her eyes burning with frustration.
Yuvaan tilted his head and gave a slow, villainous smirk. "And the sister-in-law."
His eyes flicked toward the jungle beyond them—the direction of the temple. "Now," he murmured, his voice low and hungry, "all that's left is the bride."
Lightning cracked across the sky as Yuvaan's smirk widened, the forest trembling under the echo of his dark promise.
Meanwhile, inside the ancient Shiva temple, Kiara paced restlessly, her tears refusing to stop. The storm outside rumbled like an omen, its echoes vibrating through the stone walls.
She fell before the idol of Lord Shiva, her palms pressed together, her voice trembling with desperation.
"Mahadev… please," she whispered, her words breaking between sobs. "Protect my family. Don't let anything happen to Papa or Varun. I'll do anything—just save them."
The temple flames flickered wildly, as though the heavens themselves were listening. Her heart pounded in her chest, every second stretching like eternity.
And then—
A voice ripped through the thunder.
"Sweetheart!"
It was Yuvaan. His voice was powerful, raw, echoing through the forest and into the temple. "Kiara! Come to me!"
Her breath hitched. The sound of his voice—half pained, half desperate—pierced through her every wall. Without thinking, she turned and ran toward the entrance, rainlight flashing through the cracks as her anklets chimed.
"Yuvaan!" she cried, rushing toward the doorway—
But just as her foot was about to cross the sacred threshold, Vikram's voice thundered through the storm.
"Kiara, stop!"
She froze mid-step, startled. Her father stood a few feet outside, drenched, bound by glowing roots, his face pale yet commanding.
"Don't cross that line!" he shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. "That temple is protecting you! The moment you step out—he'll have you!"
Kiara's eyes filled with confusion and horror. Beyond Vikram, she could see Yuvaan through the sheets of rain—his dark figure emerging, eyes glowing faintly crimson, a predatory calm in his stance.
Her heart trembled. Torn between love and fear, faith and betrayal, she stood frozen at the temple's edge—her father's warning on one side, Yuvaan's haunting voice calling her name on the other.
Kiara's breath caught as lightning split the sky, and in that blinding flash she saw them—
Her father, bound by thorny, dark roots that pulsed with a sinister glow.
Her brother, trapped in midair, struggling against invisible bindings.
And Mishka, encased in a floating, shimmering cage that crackled with dark energy.
"Papa! Varun! Mishka!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the storm. She ran forward but stopped at the temple's edge, trembling. "Please! Don't hurt them, Yuvaan! I'll do anything, just don't hurt them!"
Yuvaan's figure stood tall in the rain, his black coat soaked, his crimson eyes glinting under the stormlight. His expression was unreadable—a perfect mask of calculated cruelty.
He tilted his head slightly, his voice smooth yet chilling.
"Then come to me, sweetheart. End this running. You know what I want."
Kiara's heart pounded painfully in her chest. "Why are you doing this?" she cried. "They're innocent! They haven't done anything to you!"
Yuvaan gave a quiet laugh, stepping closer, the sound low and deliberate. "Innocent?" he murmured. "They're Reeva hunters, Kiara. Born to destroy my kind. I'd say they've done more than enough."
She shook her head violently. "Please, stop this!" she begged, falling to her knees. "You can have me, just… let them go."
For a fleeting moment, the mask slipped. His gaze softened—so briefly that even he wasn't sure it happened. The truth was, he had no intention of killing them. They were bait, pawns in the only game that mattered: Kiara's surrender.
But when he spoke again, his tone was sharp, cold, dripping with false villainy.
"I don't make deals, Kiara. You should know by now—I take what I want."
He extended his hand toward her, dark energy swirling around his fingers like smoke.
"Come to me willingly," he said softly, "or watch your family pay the price for your hesitation."
Kiara's tears mixed with the rain as she stared at him—at the man she had loved, and the monster he had become. Her trembling fingers reached toward him… torn between her heart and her blood.