The night after Aarohi whispered her terrifying truth, the sky bled.
No one knew how.
A red mist floated over the hills. Crows dropped dead mid-flight. Wells turned black.
People fled.
But some stayed behind.
Some—waited.
Father Desai and Veer sealed Aarohi behind a dozen layers of sacred salt, silver chains, and old rituals only the church remembered.
"She's not mortal anymore," Desai warned. "She's not your wife."
But Veer refused to look away from her face.
"She remembers me," he said. "She said my name."
Desai snapped, "So would a demon if it meant you'd unbind it."
That night, at 2:13 a.m., the earth shuddered.
And something knocked on the walls beneath the temple.
A knock that echoed like a heartbeat.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Then silence.
Until the whispers started.
Dozens of them.
All around the temple.
Soft.
Reverent.
"She has risen."
"The gate breathes."
"He comes through her now."
By morning, the guards were gone.
Just gone.
No struggle.
No blood.
Only robes.
Torn open at the chest—where a hollow circle had been carved over each of their hearts.
Veer and Desai found them lined in a perfect circle outside.
Like an offering.
Inside, Aarohi stood—chains still wrapped around her arms, but she had not moved.
Until Veer stepped into the circle.
And she turned to him.
Smiled.
This time, not gently.
This smile was hungry.
"You remember," she said.
Veer stepped closer. "Remember what?"
Aarohi tilted her head.
And whispered:
"Who you were. Before this life."
The ground cracked beneath them.
And from the fissure rose a man in red robes. Tall, gaunt, with bones tied into his beard and soot rubbed over his eyelids.
His eyes locked onto Aarohi, and he dropped to his knees.
"My Lady Gate," he breathed. "We have waited. The Church of the Hollow God is yours again."
Behind him, dozens more rose from the earth.
Silent. Staring. Kneeling.
They chanted:
"Blood to wake.
Ash to cleanse.
The Gate opens."
Desai shouted, "This is a trap! Veer, step away!"
But Aarohi's eyes glowed silver again.
And she reached toward Veer.
"Come back to me," she said softly. "Like before. You were once part of this. You just forgot."
Veer stumbled.
His head swam.
Suddenly, memories not his own flooded in:
—A knife in his hand.
—A flame-lit altar.
—Standing beside her, chanting in a forgotten tongue.
Desai grabbed his arm. "Veer! Fight it!"
Veer shook violently, his voice cracking:
"I know her. From before.
Another life…
Another name…"
The cult leader stepped forward.
"You were her guardian. The first. The lover who betrayed the Hollow God. The one who chose love over ritual."
He reached into his robe.
Pulled out a bone dagger.
"And now… you must finish the offering."
Veer looked at Aarohi.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She whispered:
"This is our only way.
Kill me. Free me.
Or take my hand…
And rule beside me."
The cultists chanted louder.
Desai screamed prayers.
The earth split further, revealing a red chasm glowing beneath the world.
And Aarohi stepped toward Veer.
Not as a victim.
Not as a bride.
But as something ancient.
Powerful.
Beautiful.
And terrifying.
She held out her hand.
Her voice echoed:
"Choose, Veer.
The world…
or me."