Author's POV
Morning in Sheerghat didn't feel rushed the way mornings usually do. It unfolded softly, almost like someone lifting a thin veil of mist from the world. Cool air drifted through the haveli's open courtyard, stirring the curtains gently and making the scent of jasmine drift through the halls. The girls woke slowly each aware that this day mattered. Not because something dramatic would happen, but because this was the day they began to reclaim what was lost.
He waited near the gates of the mansion, straight and still, as though he had been there long before any sun was up. He didn't rush them; he didn't direct. He just was, in that silent way that needed no explanation. And when the girls were ready, he nodded once and started walking. They followed, the morning quiet settling around them like a warm shawl.
The path to the shrine meandered through old trees, their roots rising and twisting like the veins of the earth itself; sunlight filtered through thick leaves, scattering patches of gold light across the path. Birds sang lazily from somewhere above, and on occasion, a breeze would carry the faint smell of incense from far-off temples. Everything felt old old, peaceful, and aware of something.
Sita's POV
My fingers curled around the necklace carefully, afraid of dropping it, even though the chain was intact. The gemstone looked dull now, no trace of the glow that once guided and protected me. But somehow, today, it felt heavier, not in a burdensome way, just meaningful.
When we arrived at the shrine, I paused a moment. Small, almost hidden between trees, carved into sandstone that had softened with time. Bells hung from the entrance, ringing softly with any touch of wind. I took a slow breath, feeling a knot in my chest that I hadn't realized I had been holding.
The priest sat inside, near the sanctum lamp. His eyes lifted to me as though he already knew. He said nothing-not a greeting, not a question. Just understanding. That was enough.
I stepped forward, knelt, and set the necklace in front of him. His hands were old, lined with a lifetime of ritual and devotion, yet they moved with steady care. He touched the pendant lightly and murmured something too soft to hear. Incense smoke curled in the air like threads of memory. I watched, my heartbeat slowing.
"It will not be restored in an instant," he finally said, his voice soft. "Its strength will return as yours does. It will grow with you."
I think that was the first time I felt something ease inside me-not relief precisely, but acceptance.
Iaa's POV
We sat outdoors, while Sita stayed inside the shrine. The courtyard had a low stone wall, and I leaned against it, watching sunlight flicker across the ground. The air was warm, but not heavy. It felt like the kind of warmth that encourages things to grow.
My hands were warm again.
It wasn't strong like before - not a glow, not a spark - but a quiet warmth, like sunlight beneath skin. Familiar, gentle, patient. I flexed my fingers slowly, feeling something old and new at the same time. I didn't say anything. I wasn't afraid of the light. Just cautious. Powers weren't toys. We'd learned that the hard way.
Shiva sat cross-legged beside me, rolling a small pebble between her fingers to keep them occupied. She wasn't nervous-Shiva didn't have the word nervous in her dictionary-but she was alert in the way she usually was when we stepped into unknown spaces.
Meanwhile, Aravali was pretending to be deeply invested in her tablet. She had the screen zoomed so close in on a picture of a leaf that it looked like some sort of abstract art.
"That poor leaf has been seen enough," I said quietly.
She almost dropped the tablet.
Aravali's POV
Okay. All right. I was fine. Just fine. Perfectly normal. Absolutely, undeniably normal. Except that every time I looked up—even by accident—my eyes somehow gravitated to him.
Kartikya stood near the shrine entrance, hands behind his back, posture relaxed but dignified. He didn't fidget, didn't shift weight from one foot to another, didn't check his phone, didn't do anything. He was simply present. Which was somehow worse.
Because how was I supposed to ignore a man who looked like he stepped straight out of a historical period drama with better lighting?
Shiva leaned closer to me, dropping her voice to a whisper that could probably be heard in four districts.
"You are so obviously gone."
"I—I am not gone," I whispered back, hissing. "I am right here. Fully here. Fully present. Very stable."
She stared.
"…Sure."
I wanted to bury myself in the leaf picture.
Author's POV
After some time, the priest came out of the shrine with Sita. The necklace was now glowing softly, faintly, not bright, not restored, but alive. It seemed to contain a sleeping star in the stone.
"It has awakened," the priest said, placing it gently into Sita's hand. "Now it must continue to awaken with you. Your bond with it will decide its strength."
The girls nodded. They did understand.
Sometimes power did not return all at once.
Sometimes it returned very slowly, like trust.
The walk back to the mansion was quiet, but it was the good kind of quiet-the kind filled with thoughts settling into place, like books being returned to shelves inside the mind.
Sita's POV
I held the necklace close, feeling warmth pulse through it gently. Not like energy—like breath. Like something was alive in it again. I didn't speak; I just walked between my friends, each step feeling a little more grounded than the last.
Aravali's POV
Just as we reached the haveli gates, I being me tripped over absolutely nothing. Again. I braced myself for the ground, already picturing the bruises.
But instead, a steady hand caught my wrist—tight enough to halt the fall, but not hard.
I looked up.
Kartikya.
He didn't look surprised. He didn't make a comment. He simply helped me regain balance and released my wrist once I was steady.
"Watch your step," he said; calm as ever.
I nodded way too fast.
"Yes. Step. Yes. I mean-yeah. Sorry. I mean-thank you. For. Stopping my death. Yes."
He blinked once. Just once.
He then turned and walked inside.
I wanted to evaporate.
Author's POV
Evening settled slow and golden across the haveli. The girls sat together in the courtyard, sharing tea, talking softly about everything and nothing: new cities, new friends, strange classmates, part-time jobs, moments they wished the others had seen. No ghosts. No fear. Just warmth. Relearning each other. For now, the world seemed to have steadied itself. They didn't realize it yet— -but this calm was the quiet breath before the story turned again.