In this scene the grand hallway stretched before him, adorned with opulent chandeliers that bathed the space in golden light. The marble floors gleamed beneath his hurried steps, reflecting the intricate patterns carved into the high ceiling. The scent of fresh roses and expensive perfume lingered in the air, mingling with the soft melodies of classical Indian music drifting from within.
As he reached the towering wooden doors, he hesitated only for a second before pushing them open.
Inside, a lavish gathering unfolded. Elegantly dressed guests reclined in their seats, sipping from crystal glasses as they watched the mesmerizing performance before them. Dancers adorned in traditional attire moved gracefully, their ghungroos echoing in rhythm with the music. The air hummed with quiet conversations and the occasional murmur of appreciation for the spectacle.
Just as he took a step forward, a figure approached him.
A woman—tall, poised, and radiating an air of authority. Dressed entirely in black, she stood before him like a shadow against the shimmering backdrop of wealth and celebration. Her sharp eyes studied him, unblinking.
Before he could speak, she said firmly, "State your business."
"I need to talk to Ma'am. It's important," he said, trying to steady his breath.
The woman didn't move, her expression unreadable. Then, with a glance toward the ongoing festivities, she said, "Tonight is Ma'am's birthday. As you can see, the event is in full swing." Her voice was polite but unwavering. "She won't be meeting anyone right now."
"But—"
"Don't worry," she interrupted, her tone softening just slightly. "Once the event is over, I'll inform her that you wish to see her."
Relief washed over him, and he nodded. "Thank you."
The woman gave him one last assessing look before stepping aside, disappearing into the elegant crowd. He remained where he stood, watching the performance, but his mind was restless. He couldn't shake the feeling that time was slipping away—faster than he could afford.
The morning sunlight streamed through the hospital windows, casting a soft glow on the sterile white walls. Mohit and Anika sat outside Raj's room, exhaustion evident in their faces. The night had been long, filled with tension and uncertainty.
Mohit leaned back against the chair, rubbing his temples. "You've been here since yesterday, Anika. You should go home and get some rest."
Anika shook her head. "No, it's okay. Then she said If I had stayed at the hospital yesterday when that unknown person attacked Raj, I might have been able to help him."
"Don't think too much about it," Mohit said. He glanced around and then lowered his voice. "By the way, where's that… creature?"
Anika pulled her bag onto her lap and unzipped it slightly. "Right here."
Mohit peered inside but frowned. "There's nothing in there."
Anika smirked. "Da-Tan is sleeping. Here, touch inside."
Hesitantly, Mohit reached in, and the moment his fingers brushed against something, he felt it move. He pulled his hand back quickly, eyes widening. "Whoa… you can actually control it?"
Anika chuckled. "Seems like it."
Mohit sighed and looked at her apologetically. "Listen, Anika… I'm sorry."
Anika tilted her head. "For what?"
"For how I used to talk to you before. Our conversations never went well," Mohit admitted.
Before Anika could respond, Madhav appeared in front of them, carrying his bag, looking fully prepared to leave.
"I'm ready," Madhav said. "I'm heading home, so please take care of Raj.
Mohit nodded. "Alright, go safely."
Just then, Meera approached from behind, her presence quiet yet firm. "Okay, let's go."
Anika looked between them. "You two are going together?"
Madhav gave a small nod. "Meera has a vehicle. She'll drop me home."
Anika accepted this with a thoughtful expression. "Oh, okay."
As Madhav adjusted his bag, Mohit stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Madhav could hear. "Don't forget… the blind man said you'll die before this month ends."
Madhav met his eyes, unwavering. "Don't worry about that."
Meera, watching the exchange, turned to Mohit and spoke softly. "Mohit, I'm sorry."
Mohit frowned. "Why are you apologizing?"
She hesitated for a second before looking at Mohit . "Because… you have changed so much now."
There was a pause. Meera then turned to Anika and said, "Take good care of that bag."
Anika looked at her, confused. "Why?"
Meera didn't answer. She just gave her a small, knowing smile before walking away with Madhav.
As they exited the hospital, the air outside was crisp and cool. Madhav took a deep breath, steadying himself.
Meera pulled up in front of Madhav, the sleek black car gleaming under the morning light. Madhav hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, sinking into the luxurious leather seat. He ran his fingers over the polished dashboard, his eyebrows slightly raised in surprise.
"I didn't know your parents owned such an expensive car,"
Without warning, Meera's voice cut through his thoughts. "Not my parents. This car is mine."
Madhav turned to her, startled. "I didn't say that out loud."
Meera smirked, her eyes focused on the road. "I can hear thoughts. And I can also speak in anyone's mind if I want to."
Madhav's heartbeat quickened. "Are you serious?"
"It's like telepathy,"
Madhav ran a hand through his hair, still processing.
"Not everything," Meera clarified.
Madhav exhaled sharply.
Meera glanced at him with a knowing smile but didn't push further. She wanted to bring up the ward boy, the attack at the hospital—but she wasn't sure how.
Madhav broke the silence first. "How did you get this power?"
Meera's grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. In a softer voice, she replied, "It runs in my family."
Madhav processed that for a moment, then nodded. "Oh… okay."
Silence filled the car, save for the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the road beneath the tires. Madhav glanced at Meera again. "By the way, what does your family do?"
"We own a pharmaceutical company," she said, her tone neutral. "And a few private hospitals."
Madhav raised an eyebrow. "That's impressive."
Meera only offered a small smile. The conversation faded into quiet again, but an unspoken understanding lingered between them.
As the car moved steadily along the road, its headlights slicing through the darkness. Madhav sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. He hadn't spoken much since they left the hospital, lost in thoughts he wasn't ready to share.
Meera, gripping the steering wheel, wrestled with her own thoughts. Harsha's words echoed in her mind—This story isn't just about sacrifice. It's about trust. True friends do not abandon each other.
There were only thirty minutes left before they reached Madhav's home. If she was going to tell him, it had to be now.
Taking a deep breath, Meera finally broke the silence. "Madhav, I need to tell you something."
Madhav turned to her, his expression neutral. "What is it?"
She hesitated for a moment, then said, "Yesterday, at the hospital, when I gave you that box of laddus—the one sent by your brother—it wasn't the original box."
Madhav's eyes widened slightly. "What? What do you mean?"
"I replaced it," Meera admitted. "When I first took the box, I could smell something off. A faint trace of poison. That's why I switched it with another one before giving it to you."
Madhav stared at her, absorbing her words. Slowly, he let out a breath and reached into his pocket, pulling out the golden coin. He held it in his palm, his fingers tightening around its cold surface.
In a low, almost broken voice, he said, "Meera… if you had told me this three or four days ago, I wouldn't have believed you. I would've thought you were overthinking things. But now… after everything that's happened… I can't ignore it anymore."
His voice faltered, and Meera glanced sideways at him. His eyes shimmered slightly—tears barely held back.
"Even my inner soul told me something was wrong the moment I held this coin for the first time," he whispered.
Meera clenched the steering wheel, her own emotions beginning to surface. She couldn't hold it back anymore. "Madhav, all of this… everything that's happened to you… it's because of me."
Madhav's head snapped toward her, his face contorted in shock. "What?! Meera, are you okay? What kind of nonsense are you talking?" Meera gripped the steering wheel tighter, her heart pounding. "I'm not talking nonsense, Madhav," she said firmly. "I was the one who told them you had the golden coin."
Madhav's head snapped toward her, his brows furrowing. "What are you saying? That makes no sense. Explain properly."
Meera exhaled, steadying herself. "Do you remember the day Mohit got punished in the college garden? You went to meet him, and before that, you hid the golden coin inside the flamingo statue."
Madhav's grip on the coin in his hand tightened. "How do you know that?" His voice was sharp now, his tone laced with suspicion.
Meera hesitated for a moment before answering. "I didn't see you hide it… but I heard it. Your thoughts, Madhav. They were so loud, I couldn't ignore them."
Silence filled the car for a moment. Madhav's breathing grew heavier, his jaw clenching. "You… read my mind?" His voice held a mix of anger and disbelief.
Meera glanced at him but couldn't meet his gaze. "I didn't mean to invade your privacy," she admitted. "But it happened.
Madhav wanted to speak, to demand answers, to vent the frustration building inside him. But before he could say another word, a figure suddenly stepped in front of the car.
Meera slammed the brakes. The tires screeched against the asphalt as the car came to a jolting stop. A man stood in their path, staring straight at them.
The car screeched to a halt. Meera quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out, her eyes narrowing at the group of people standing in the dimly lit street.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice sharp with concern.
One of the men, his face pale and tense, raised a hand. "Don't go any further," he warned. "Everyone ahead is unconscious."
Madhav leaned forward from the car, his eyes scanning the eerie sight before him. Bodies lay scattered across the ground—some slumped over, others sprawled motionless as if sleep had claimed them mid-step.
A chill crept up his spine. This… this is just like Shimla.
His house was only a few steps away now. The street he had walked countless times felt foreign, drenched in an unnatural silence. The sky above was thick with rolling clouds—not the kind that promised rain, but something else. Something heavier.
"I have to go home," Madhav said, stepping out of the car. "We're already here."
Meera grabbed his arm. "I'm coming with you."
He shook his head. "No, Meera. Stay here. Call the police."
"But—"
"Just do it." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
One of the men tried his phone and frowned. "Phones aren't working."
Madhav didn't hesitate. He turned and started toward his house, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The silence grew thicker, pressing in from all sides. His heart pounded as he walked past the fallen bodies. No movement. No breath.
When he reached the front door, an invisible weight settled on his chest. A dark, suffocating energy swirled around the house. The air felt colder, the shadows stretched longer.
Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
His fingers trembled as he reached for the door handle. I have to see my parents. I have to know if they're okay.
He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
Madhav pushed the door open, his breath hitching as his eyes fell upon his parents. They lay sprawled on the cold floor, unmoving.
"Mom! Dad!" He rushed forward, kneeling beside them, shaking their shoulders desperately. "Wake up!"
No response. Their chests rose and fell faintly—they were alive, but unconscious.
Heart pounding, Madhav gritted his teeth and struggled to lift his father, dragging him outside with effort. Once his father was safe, he hurried back for his mother, carrying her as best he could. He placed them both a short distance from the house, hoping—
Please be safe here.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he turned back toward the house. This is Purav's doing. There was no doubt in his mind now.
Madhav took a deep breath and stepped back inside. The house was eerily silent, the air thick with tension. Everything appeared normal, yet a deep unease settled in his chest.
Then, as he took his first step toward Purav's room—
A blinding glow erupted beneath his feet.
A magic circle—intricate symbols pulsating with golden light—appeared out of nowhere.
From the darkness of his room, Purav sat calmly, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest of his chair. A slow, sinister smile spread across his lips.
"Come, my dear little brother." His voice echoed unnaturally. "Meet me—if you can."
Then his smile twisted into something deranged, something monstrous.
Madhav's breath turned ragged as the light from the magic circle intensified. Before he could even react—
FWOOOM!
Flames erupted everywhere.
Fire surged across the walls, licking the ceiling, consuming everything in its path. The once-familiar home transformed into an inferno, the heat suffocating, the glow blinding.
Madhav staggered back, shielding his face as fiery waves crashed around him. His vision blurred, his lungs burned, the very air seemed to warp with unnatural energy.
"Big brother!" he shouted, his voice nearly drowned by the roar of the flames. "Where are you? Please Stop now."
A deep, guttural laugh rang through the fire.
And then—
They appeared.
Through the shifting flames, twisted figures emerged. Their flesh was charred, their eyes hollow and burning with an unholy glow. Undead.
Their mouths gaped open, voices rasping in unison—
"Today, you die."