The crack in the sky widened—an unnatural tear ripping through the fabric of time. Lightning flickered silently across it, and a chilling wind blew through Vrindavan, carrying whispers in forgotten tongues.
Aarohi stood frozen as the shards of the hourglass hovered mid-air, suspended like stars. Her vision blurred, but the moment she blinked—everything stopped.
She was no longer in the temple.
She was standing in front of an enormous mirror, carved into the coils of a stone serpent — Shesha.
"The Mirror of Shesha doesn't show who you are," a voice echoed, "it shows who you're meant to become."
Aarohi took a shaky step forward. The mirror rippled.
In it, she saw herself, but not as she was. This Aarohi wore golden armor, a divine aura glowing behind her, and… by her side stood Ishaan — but his eyes were pitch black, his expression distant.
Suddenly, the reflection moved on its own, stepping forward, whispering:
"You were never the chosen one, Aarohi… you were the seal."
Meanwhile…
Ishaan, still at the ruins, felt a pulse in his chest—the Guardian's soul trying to tear through. His hand instinctively reached into his satchel and pulled out the Divya Yantra Vrinda once gave him.
The markings had changed.
Now, instead of the Kalchakra, it showed two overlapping faces — one smiling, one weeping.
"One will hold time together. One will let it burn."
Ishaan stumbled back.
Was he… both?
Vrinda, still in the Temple of Echoes, flipped through the last pages of her mother's diary. Her hands trembled as she read:
"If Aarohi awakens the mirror, and Ishaan touches the seal—
The Kalchakra will no longer repeat.
It will collapse."
And then in blood-red ink:
"Beware the Hour of Binding. It comes only once."
Back in the Mirror Realm, Aarohi heard footsteps.
She turned.
Ishaan stood behind her.
But something was… wrong. His aura flickered like a dying flame.
He reached out, and as their fingers brushed—
—the mirror cracked.