The world had turned into chaos and current.
Yuvaan and Kiara plunged into the churning river, their bodies tossed by merciless waves that swallowed their cries. The water roared — furious, cold, and endless — dragging them along its wild course.
"YUVAAN!" Kiara's voice cracked as she fought to keep her head above the surface. She could barely see — only his silhouette ahead of her, fading, tumbling helplessly through the water.
He reached out, his hand trembling, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. Their fingertips brushed — just for a heartbeat — before the current tore them apart again.
"NO!" she screamed, her voice drowned by the roaring water.
The river bent sharply, and Kiara's heart stopped. Ahead lay a massive waterfall, crashing into another river below — a raging descent into the unknown.
"YUVAAN!!!" she shouted again, thrashing through the current, her arms burning, lungs aching.
But Yuvaan — her warlock king — had gone still. His body drifted like a shadow, his eyes half-closed, the glow in his aura dimming as if life itself was leaving him.
They plunged over the waterfall — swallowed by mist and fury.
---
The fall ended with a violent crash. The water below surged, pushing them apart again.
Kiara gasped, disoriented, before spotting Yuvaan's body floating nearby — limp, motionless, sinking.
"No!" she cried, diving under. The cold bit into her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed his arm, pulling with all the strength left in her trembling body.
With one desperate push, she dragged him out of the river, collapsing with him onto the muddy shore.
"Yuvaan!" she panted, cupping his face. His skin was turning faintly green, veins darkening beneath the surface — the poison and loss of magic eating through him. His chest barely rose.
"Please… wake up…" she sobbed, shaking him gently. "You can't die. You can't leave me now!"
She pressed her ear against his chest — the faintest heartbeat. Weak… slowing.
Then, as she leaned closer, she saw something that made her breath hitch.
The vermilion in her hairline — the same mark he had filled with his trembling hand after their wedding — was bleeding away in streaks of red, washed by the river water.
Her fingers trembled to her forehead. "No…" she whispered. "No, it can't mean—"
Her heart clenched. The vermillion fading… meant his life was fading too.
Her warlock's essence — the bond that tied them — was slipping away.
"No! You can't!" she cried, clutching his face, tears spilling freely. "You forcefully made me yours, Yuvaan… so how can you runaway from your responsibility. You can't leave me Yuvaan."
Her voice broke into a sob as she looked around desperately — but there was no one. No travelers. No houses. Only wild bushes and the endless hum of the forest.
"Somebody! Help! Please!" she shouted into the silence.
Nothing answered.
Her eyes fell on a small wooden cart overturned near the bushes — perhaps left behind by a villager. Without hesitation, she rushed toward it, panting, her saree torn, her feet scraped. She rolled it back onto its wheels and dragged it to Yuvaan.
"Hold on…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Hold on for me…"
She lifted him as best as she could — her strength fueled only by desperation — and laid him gently on the cart. His head fell against her lap, his hand still cold in hers.
The cart's wheels creaked as she pushed it along the uneven path, tears streaming down her face.
"Don't you dare leave me," she whispered through clenched teeth. "You've scared me enough for one lifetime."
---
Far away — not even close to where the river flowed — Vikram and Varun searched frantically through the forest.
"Kiara!" Vikram's voice cracked, echoing through the trees. "Kiara!"
Varun knelt near a cliff's edge, scanning the river below, his face pale. "We can't see them anywhere…"
Vikram's hands trembled as he held his chest. "Gods… please. Please keep my daughter safe."
The forest remained silent — holding its secrets tight.
Unbeknownst to them, deep in that wilderness, their daughter pushed a dying warlock king through the jungle, her tear-streaked face glowing faintly in the fading light — unaware that destiny had only just begun to play its cruelest game.
The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains of Bhoomi's art room, painting the walls gold. The floor was littered with color palettes, brushes, and half-finished canvases — each one an echo of her world that revolved around one name: Yuvaan.
Humming faintly, Bhoomi dipped her brush into a blend of rose and ivory, tracing soft strokes across a canvas that showed Yuvaan and Kiara laughing together. Her hands moved delicately, lovingly, as though she were touching her son's face instead of a painting.
"Just like this," she murmured to herself. "Happy, peaceful… Kiara by your side, always smiling."
Her laughter broke the silence — light, almost girlish, but trembling with something fragile. She reached for another brush, talking softly to the portraits surrounding her.
"You see, Yuvi, I told them you're happy now. You finally have someone who understands you. Kiara will keep you safe, won't she?"
As if in answer, the wind crept in through the half-open window, fluttering the curtains. Bhoomi turned, startled. Her gaze fell on a framed photo of Yuvaan on the nearby shelf.
Then — CRASH!
The frame slipped and fell to the ground, glass shattering across the marble. Bhoomi froze, her eyes widening as the sound echoed through the quiet room.
For a long moment, she didn't move. Then, slowly, she knelt and picked up the broken frame. Her trembling fingers brushed over Yuvaan's smiling face — a crack now split across his heart.
Her lips quivered. "Oh, Yuvi…" she whispered, pressing the photo to her chest. "Why do I feel… uneasy today?"
Her eyes darted toward the door, her expression flickering between worry and confusion. "Maybe it's nothing," she said softly, trying to smile. "You must be fine. You're always fine. I just… worry too much, don't I?"
She let out a faint laugh, but her voice broke halfway through. "Still… I'll just pray once. Just to be sure."
She stood and walked toward the small shrine at the corner of the room. Lighting an incense stick, she folded her hands and closed her eyes. "Bholenath, wherever my son is, keep him safe. That's all this mother asks."
As the smoke rose, the painting behind her fluttered — the one of Yuvaan and Kiara — as if stirred by a silent breeze. Bhoomi turned briefly, frowning, then smiled weakly. "Must be the wind again."
She gathered the broken pieces of glass carefully, humming to herself again. But her hands trembled slightly, and her eyes — soft yet distant — stayed fixed on Yuvaan's smiling photo.
"Don't stay out too long, Yuvi," she whispered. "It feels too quiet without you."
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance — a storm brewing far away, where her son fought for his life… and Bhoomi, in her fragile innocence, painted him smiling under a blue sky.
To be continued…