The decision came at dawn.
Bharat didn't use the footage.
Not yet.
Not like this.
He stood in the apartment's study, the USB drive on the desk before him like an accusation. Outside, Mumbai was waking up—traffic sounds, vendor calls, the city's perpetual noise bleeding through closed windows.
But inside:
Silence.
Just his breathing.
And bells.
GONG. GONG. GONG.
Quieter now.
The sedative still working.
But for how much longer?
His phone showed Peacock's last message:
"Time's up in six hours. Use it or lose it."
He'd typed and deleted three responses.
Finally settled on:
"I'm going for the root instead."
Three dots appeared immediately.
"Explain."
"The temple's power comes from the Book of Sacrifices—the Ritual Ledger. Destroy that, the contracts break. The bindings fail. Everything collapses."
"You think no one's tried that before?"
"I think no one's tried it with Contract Vision and a fake marriage giving me family access."
Longer pause.
Then:
"Ambitious. Stupid. Possibly brilliant. What do you need?"
"Information. The ledger is locked. Three keys. I need to know what they are."
"Give me an hour."
The call ended.
Bharat sat.
Waited.
Tried not to think about Kumar.
About the choice he'd just made.
About whether delaying was the same as deciding.
His Contract Vision flickered—
Showing him the bindings in the room:
To Mira: Strong. Growing stronger. The marriage contract developing depth he hadn't expected.
To Peacock: Forming. Unstable. The fake love contract she'd demanded still pending, still waiting for him to survive long enough to activate it.
To the temple: Dark. Suffocating. The Guardian's Oath wrapping tighter every day, like a noose testing its knot.
And beneath them all—
Something new.
A thread he hadn't noticed before.
Leading not to a person.
But to an object.
The Book of Sacrifices.
The Ritual Ledger.
The source.
His phone buzzed.
Peacock:
"Got your keys. You're not going to like this."
A file attachment. Three images.
Bharat opened them.
Key 1: The Family Seal Ring
A photograph of an ornate ring—gold, ancient, carved with symbols that made his vision ache to look at. The same symbols that covered the temple walls.
Description:
"Worn by the patriarch. Currently Rajan Kapur. Never removed. Rumored to be bonded to his skin—removal requires either death or ritual severance."
Key 2: The High Priest's Signet
A second ring. Silver. Darker. The symbols on this one looked like they were moving, even in a still photograph.
Description:
"Held by High Priest Vikram. Kept in the sanctum. Guarded. Only leaves the temple during major ceremonies."
Key 3: The Prayer Bell
A small bell. Bronze. Tarnished. Hanging from a chain.
Description:
"Location unknown. Last seen 20 years ago during the temple's rededication. Some records suggest it was hidden. Others say it was destroyed. Good luck."
Bharat stared at the images.
At the impossible task.
At the three objects that might as well be on the moon.
"This is suicide," he typed.
"Yes. But it's creative suicide. I appreciate that."
"How am I supposed to get any of these?"
"That's your problem. I find information. You figure out what to do with it."
"Helpful."
"I'm not paid to be helpful. I'm paid to be accurate."
Bharat closed the phone.
Leaned back.
The bells screamed.
GONG. GONG. GONG.
Like laughter.
Like they knew something he didn't.
The door opened.
Mira.
She looked exhausted.
Dark circles under her eyes.
Hair pulled back in a way that suggested she'd given up caring how she looked.
"You didn't come to bed," she said.
"Couldn't sleep. The bells."
"It's getting worse, isn't it?"
"Yes."
She walked to the desk. Saw the images on his screen. Her expression shifted—recognition, then fear, then something harder.
"The three keys," she whispered. "You're going after the ledger."
"You know about them?"
"Everyone in the family knows. It's a story they tell us. A warning."
"What kind of warning?"
Mira sat across from him.
Her hands folded.
Tight.
Like she was holding something in.
"That trying to break the temple's contracts is worse than accepting them. That every generation, someone tries. And every generation, they fail."
"What happens to them?"
"They die. Badly. And the curse transfers."
Silence.
"Transfers where?"
Mira's eyes met his.
And in them—
Fear.
Real fear.
The kind that comes from knowing something terrible and having to say it aloud.
"To the spouse," she said quietly. "To the person bound by marriage. The temple's contracts have a failsafe: if the primary vessel dies trying to break the binding, the curse doesn't disappear. It transfers to the next closest bond."
Bharat's pulse stopped.
"You're saying—"
"I'm saying if you go after the ledger and fail, the curse doesn't end. It jumps to me. And if I'm already marked—" she touched her wrist, where the faint binding seal still lingered "—then it amplifies. Doubles. Maybe triples."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"Because I was hoping you wouldn't figure out the ledger route. That you'd find another way."
"There is no other way."
"I know."
Her voice cracked.
Just slightly.
Just enough to show the weight she'd been carrying.
"That's why I came here. To tell you the rest."
"What rest?"
Mira pulled out a folder.
Old.
The kind kept in locked drawers and forgotten safes.
Opened it.
Inside: a list.
Names.
Dates.
All marked with the same symbol:
The binding seal.
"These are every family member who tried to break the curse in the last fifty years," Mira said. "Twelve attempts. Twelve failures. And here—"
She pointed to a column.
"—are the spouses who inherited the curse after."
Bharat scanned the list.
Every name was followed by a death date.
Never more than three months after the transfer.
Suicide.
Illness.
Accident.
"Natural causes" as eulogy.
"You're in the center of this list now," Mira whispered.
She flipped to the last page.
There:
A new entry.
Handwritten.
Recent.
Bharat Singh — Vessel Candidate
Spouse: Mira Kapur
Status: ACTIVE BINDING
Transfer Risk: HIGH
"The temple already knows you're going to try," Mira said. "They've been watching. Waiting. This—" she gestured at the file "—is their betting pool. On how long you last. On whether I survive the transfer."
Silence.
Absolute.
Bharat felt something crack inside him.
Not the bells.
Something deeper.
"Why are you showing me this?" he asked quietly.
"Because you deserve to know what you're risking. And because—"
She stopped.
Looked away.
Her jaw tight.
Like the next words might break her.
"Because I need you to know that if you fail, I don't want you to feel guilty. I went into this marriage knowing the risks. Knowing this might happen."
"That doesn't make it okay."
"No. But it makes it my choice too."
She stood.
Walked to the window.
Looked out at the city waking up below.
"My whole life, I've been told the curse is inevitable. That fighting it is pointless. That the best you can do is accept it and try to die with grace."
She turned back.
"But you're the first person who looked at this and didn't accept it. Who saw the cage and immediately started looking for the lock."
"I don't know if I can open it."
"I know. But at least you're trying. That's more than anyone else has done."
Mira walked to the desk.
Picked up one of the images.
The Family Seal Ring.
"This one is the easiest," she said. "Rajan takes it off once a year. During the cleansing ritual. Three days from now."
"Where?"
"Private temple chamber. Family only. He'll be vulnerable for exactly fifteen minutes."
"And the others?"
"The High Priest's ring never leaves the sanctum. You'd need to go inside. Into the heart of the temple. Where the binding is strongest."
"And the bell?"
Mira's expression darkened.
"I don't know. No one does. It disappeared twenty years ago. Some say it's hidden in the temple. Others say it was destroyed to prevent exactly what you're trying."
"So I need to steal a ring from Rajan during a fifteen-minute window, infiltrate the temple sanctum to get another ring, and find an object that might not exist."
"Yes."
"In three days."
"Yes."
"While the bells are trying to kill me."
"Yes."
Bharat laughed.
It came out wrong.
Harsh.
Edged with hysteria.
"This is impossible."
"I know."
"I'm going to die."
"Probably."
"And if I fail, you die too."
"Yes."
She said it calmly.
Like she'd made peace with it.
"So why are you helping me?"
Mira was quiet for a long moment.
Then:
"Because I'd rather die trying to be free than live knowing I didn't."
She picked up the folder.
Handed it to him.
"Everything I know about the keys is in here. Schedules. Security protocols. Weaknesses. It's not much. But it's yours."
"Mira—"
"Don't."
Her voice was firm.
"Don't apologize. Don't feel guilty. Just... try. That's all I'm asking."
She walked to the door.
Stopped.
"Bharat?"
"Yes?"
"If you get the chance to save yourself and it means letting me die—take it."
"I won't—"
"Take it. Please. Don't let this curse claim us both."
She left before he could respond.
The door closed.
Silence rushed in.
Bharat looked at the folder.
At the three keys.
At the impossible task.
At the countdown to his death.
And hers.
His phone buzzed.
System notification:
╔═══════════════════════════════════╗
║ QUEST UPDATED: BREAK THE BINDING ║
╠═══════════════════════════════════╣
║ OBJECTIVE: OBTAIN 3 KEYS ║
║ 1. FAMILY SEAL (3 DAYS) ║
║ 2. PRIEST'S SIGNET (LOCATION TBD) ║
║ 3. PRAYER BELL (UNKNOWN) ║
╠═══════════════════════════════════╣
║ TIME LIMIT: 72 HOURS ║
║ FAILURE PENALTY: DEATH (SELF) ║
║ CURSE TRANSFER ║
║ (SPOUSE) ║
╠═══════════════════════════════════╣
║ SUCCESS RATE: 8% ║
║ RECOMMENDATION: IMPOSSIBLE ║
╚═══════════════════════════════════╝
Eight percent.
Bharat stared at the number.
At the mathematical probability of his survival.
"Eight percent," he whispered.
The bells answered.
GONG.
GONG.
GONG.
Louder now.
Faster.
Like a clock ticking down.
Like a heart giving out.
The question wasn't whether he could do this.
Was whether dying trying was worth it.
Whether eight percent was enough to gamble two lives on.
His phone buzzed again.
Message from Peacock:
"Heard through the network: temple security is moving Kumar tonight. Witness protection. Their version."
"Which means?"
"Which means he's dead by morning. They don't protect. They eliminate."
Bharat closed his eyes.
Felt the weight.
Of every choice.
Every consequence.
Every life hanging in the balance.
"Three days," he said to the empty room.
"Three keys."
"Eight percent chance."
"And a wife who's willing to die so I can try."
The bells screamed.
And beneath them—
A new sound.
The prayer bell.
Distant.
Faint.
Calling from somewhere deep.
Somewhere hidden.
Somewhere that might save them all.
Or kill them trying.