The fire burned everything. A boy, just five years old, stood outside the house. Flames rose high. His mother and father screamed inside, trapped. He cried, shouting for them, but no one came. The heat, the smoke, the fear—it stayed with him.
Then came the crash. He was ten. A bus flipped on a sharp turn. Screams, broken glass. His younger sister's hand—covered in blood—reached out. She held onto a splintered stick, her mouth moved, asking for help. But Rohan couldn't move. He just stared as the world went dark again.
Now, covered in mud, he opened his eyes. Every part of his body ached. Blood ran down his face. His right eye was half-shut from the swelling. His nose dripped red. His left arm hung useless, the shoulder out of place. He struggled to breathe.
He leaned against a tree, coughing. Then he whispered to himself, low but sharp.
"No more. No more death."
He clenched his teeth. His whole body screamed in pain, but he stood up, shaking.
"This time… I'll stop it."
The rain poured. The thunder rolled. But he was no longer afraid.
The pictures in his head came again. They were stronger now.
He saw fire all around. He heard his mom calling his name, but her voice was full of pain. He saw his little sister. Her arm was covered in blood. She just stood there, not saying anything.
Then everything changed.
He saw Kadambari's face. It was burned. She was smiling in a scary way. Dark shadows moved behind her, whispering things he couldn't understand.
His chest hurt badly. He could barely breathe. His heart was beating too fast. His legs felt weak and he fell to his knees.
Blood was all over his face, arms, and clothes. His hands were shaking. He tried to stand up but couldn't. His eyes were blurry and everything felt dark.
The hit from the tree wasn't normal. It broke him badly. His whole body was in pain.
He felt like he was dying.
He fell down in the mud. He didn't move.
The rain came, but it didn't help. He was bleeding too much.
He felt very cold.
It was getting dark.
He was about to die.
A soft, ancient whisper touched his ears, colder than the rain around him.
"What is left in your life?"
The words echoed deep inside his mind.
He lay still, weak and broken.
His breath was slow. His body cold. His eyes half closed.
He murmured, voice shaking—
"It's not about me."
The whisper returned, cold and curious in his ear—
"Then what is it about?"
Suddenly, everything stopped. The pain. The bleeding. The weight in his chest.
Rohan's eyes slowly opened.
He was no longer outside. The world had changed.
Now he stood in an old, foggy room. The air was heavy. Silent. Cold.
He turned around slowly.
There—floating in the air—was a woman. Pale. Still. Eyes glowing white like mist.
She stared straight into him.
Rohan's breath froze in his throat.
It was her.
The White Witch.
Rohan held his breath for a few seconds, frozen in fear. His heart pounded. Hands shaking.
But then, he found the courage to speak.
"Why me?" he asked. "Why did you choose me?"
The woman didn't answer. Only silence.
Rohan realized… this wasn't about questions. No answers would come.
He took a step forward, eyes firm.
"Someone's life is in danger. I have to save him. Please… let me go."
Then came a whisper—soft, slow, without her mouth moving:
"You're dead."
The words hit him like ice.
Rohan stood still. Cold spread through his chest. His legs weak.
His mind screamed—
But his lips stayed shut.
Scared like never before.
The whisper came again—slow, cold, and terrifying:
"But I have created another vessel… and you can become the shadow soul of that vessel."
Rohan stood frozen. He couldn't respond. Couldn't breathe. The room around him spun in thick fog.
Then, in a sudden rush, his whole life flashed before his eyes—
His parents burning in the fire.
His little sister's bloodied hand after the accident.
His lonely school years.
Graduation.
Friends gone.
Working day and night.
Meeting Priya—then losing her.
Falling into the river.
Waking up with powers.
Meeting Suryavanshi.
The old man's shadow soul.
Shruti's case.
Kadambari's twisted lies.
The rituals.
Sakharam and Raju in danger.
And now… he was dead.
Rohan couldn't feel his body anymore. Only pain. And cold. And silence.
Rohan's eyes filled with tears. His voice cracked as he looked up at the white witch floating above him.
"Why... why couldn't I save them?"
The witch's whisper echoed in the fog, calm and cruel:
"Once you are dead… the new vessel carries the weight."
Rohan's heart sank.
He forced himself to speak through the silence in his chest.
"Who is the new vessel?"
The room fell silent.
No whisper.
No movement.
Only stillness.
That silence was louder than any scream.
Kadambari stood in the center of the old farmhouse. Her eyes were glowing white, and strange symbols on the floor were shining red like fire. She was chanting in a language no one could understand. Her voice was cold, deep, and filled with power.
Sakharam was floating above the ground. His arms and legs hung down. He looked weak and scared. A thin white mist was slowly coming out from his chest — his soul.
His body shook. His eyes were open wide, but he couldn't speak. He gasped for breath, but no sound came out. He was dying, and he knew it.
Behind some broken wooden boxes in the corner, Raju was hiding. His clothes were dirty, his forehead bleeding. He had bruises all over his body. He had been thrown hard against the wall earlier. He tried to move, but his body hurt too much.
Raju watched with fear. He had never seen anything like this before. He knew this was not something normal — it was something evil. It was black magic.
He whispered to himself, "Rohan… please... come back."
Kadambari raised her hands, and the light in the room grew brighter. The soul was halfway out of Sakharam now. He looked like he had only a few seconds left.
Raju's hands shook. He wanted to help, but he knew he couldn't stop this. Only Rohan could.
Evil Kadambari stood tall, her hair flying wildly in the wind. Her eyes burned white, her voice louder than before, echoing through every corner of the broken farmhouse.
She looked straight at Sakharam, who was floating in the air, barely alive. His soul was almost completely out of his body now — a pale mist slowly rising from his chest, shaking in fear.
Kadambari shouted, "Now your soul will be gone forever… and mine will take its place!"
She lifted her arms as if calling power from the sky.
"I've waited twenty years for this moment!" she screamed. "I can move from one body to another… I can live forever! No one can stop me! I will be immortal!"
She laughed — a deep, horrible laugh that echoed around the dark farmhouse. It bounced off the old wooden walls and made the air feel heavy.
Everything went quiet for a moment… except for her cruel laughter.
Then — a sudden gust of wind blew open the main door.
A shadow stepped in through the light…
Everything went quiet for a moment… except for her cruel laughter.
Then — a sudden gust of wind blew open the main door.
A shadow stepped in through the light…
A sharp voice rang out from the darkness—
"And you sacrificed your own baby girl for this ritual…"
Everything froze.
Kadambari slowly stopped laughing. Her twisted smile faded. Her head turned—all the way around, unnaturally, until her glowing eyes locked on the figure standing in the shadow of the broken door.
From the shadows, a young woman stepped forward. About 25. She wore worn jeans, a black t-shirt, and a rain jacket soaked from the storm outside. Her hair was short, cut just above the shoulders. Water dripped from her sleeves, and her eyes burned with purpose.
She looked strong. Brave. And furious.
Despite the mud on her boots and the rain still falling behind her, she walked in with calm steps, straight into the heart of the haunted farmhouse.
Kadambari's twisted voice echoed through the silence:
"…Who are you?"
The girl didn't answer yet.
She stepped closer. The wind howled louder outside. Something had changed.
A new storm had entered the house.