“Pankti! Aashi! Hurry up, girls!”

Bhuaji’s sharp voice echoed through the upper floor of the Mussoorie villa, followed by the familiar clatter of stainless-steel pots coming from the kitchen downstairs.

Inside the bedroom, twenty-one-year-old Aashi rolled her eyes as she leaned closer to the vanity mirror, carefully applying the final coat of mascara.

“Ji, Maa! Just five more minutes!” she called back, her voice slightly frantic.

She glanced at the figure sitting quietly on the edge of the carved wooden bed.

“Aashi di, seriously, yaar. How long does it take to get ready? We’re going to a temple, not a fashion audition for your future design portfolio.”

Pankti adjusted the heavy crimson pleats of her anarkali suit and shook her head.

Unlike her cousin, who was busy with setting powder and perfume, Pankti preferred keeping things simple. A small matte-red bindi sat between her brows, while a thin line of herbal kajal framed her dark eyes.

“Shut up, Panku,” Aashi murmured affectionately.

She reached for her thick red wool shawl and draped it around her shoulders.

“Some of us need three layers of setting spray just to walk past the local shopkeepers.”

Pankti laughed softly.

At eighteen, she had a quiet maturity that often made people forget how young she actually was. She had grown up in a traditional Rajput household, but beneath her calm nature was a stubborn determination to build a future around the one thing she truly loved—fashion designing.

Her thick black hair fell freely down her back.

As she stood up, the heavy silver anklets around her ankles chimed softly. Her green glass bangles answered with a delicate clinking sound.

Aashi glanced down at them.

“I still don’t understand your obsession with these heavy traditional pieces. It’s modern times, Pankti. Nobody wears pure silver ghungroos for a casual morning walk.”

“It’s not just jewellery. It’s an aesthetic,” Pankti replied, touching the intricate silver work of her anklet.

For her, traditional jewellery wasn’t simply something to wear.

It was art.

It was culture.

And it was exactly the kind of inspiration she wanted to carry into her future designs.

She had recently finished her 12th-grade board exams with excellent marks, and this vacation at her aunt’s villa was her reward before returning to the strict routine waiting for her back home in Rajasthan.

The girls quickly left the bedroom and started walking down the wooden staircase.

They barely reached the dining area when a hand suddenly appeared from behind the corridor and ruthlessly messed up Aashi’s perfectly styled hair.

“Hey! Look what you did!” Aashi shrieked.

She immediately touched her hair and glared at her older brother.

Aarav stood near the dining table with a mischievous grin.

“What?” he asked innocently.

He then casually wrapped an arm around Pankti’s shoulders.

“I was just checking if the cosmetic tower was stable. Anyway, aaj kise darane chali apni bhutiya shakal leke?”

“Maa! Look at this monkey!”

Aashi stomped her foot.

“He does this every single time!”

From the kitchen doorway, Laxmi appeared, wiping her hands on a linen towel.

She looked at her children and smiled.

“Aarav, stop teasing your sister. Kalyug hai. You shouldn’t be speaking so much truth either.”

Aarav burst out laughing.

“Papa!”

Aashi immediately called toward the adjoining study.

Manish Verma stepped outside with a folded newspaper in his hand.

“Stop shouting like an elephant, Aarav,” he said with mock seriousness.

He walked over and pulled both girls into a brief, protective hug.

“Now leave. The weather is changing quickly, and I don’t want you all caught in the upper valley fog.”

“Exactly,” Laxmi added.

She stepped forward and adjusted Pankti’s shawl.

“Don’t delay. Come straight back before the afternoon rain.”

The mountain air outside the villa was crisp and cold.

The scent of damp pine and wet earth filled the winding roads of Mussoorie as the three cousins made their way toward the ancient Shiva temple.

The walk took barely ten minutes.

Aarav stayed slightly behind them, quietly keeping an eye on the surroundings.

When they reached the bottom of the temple stairs, the atmosphere changed.

The sounds of the town slowly disappeared.

All that remained was the deep ringing of the brass temple bell and the sweet smell of burning camphor.

Pankti removed her footwear.

Her bare feet touched the cold stone.

Before climbing the first step, she bent down, touched it with her fingers and brought them to her forehead.

It was an old habit.

A gesture of respect she had followed since childhood.

They climbed the remaining stairs and entered the temple courtyard.

A huge stone idol of Mahadev stood at the centre, overlooking the mist-covered valley.

Pankti immediately pulled her crimson dupatta over her head.

Her expression changed completely.

This was the one place where her playful side disappeared.

When it came to her prayers, Pankti was serious.

Very serious.

She placed her brass pooja thali before the priest and folded her hands.

“Mujhe maaf kar dijiye Shivji,” she prayed silently. “Mujhe aane mein deri ho gayi… par main kya karu? Aashi di hamesha deri kar deti hain. Jaanboojhkar nahi karti… ho jaati hai.”

A tiny smile touched her lips.

“Unhe bhi maaf kar dijiye. Mere parivaar ko khush rakhna. Sabka khayal rakhna… aur apna bhi. Theek hai?”

Her prayer was simple.

But her devotion was absolute.

After completing the rituals and receiving the holy ash on their foreheads, the three cousins sat near a carved stone pillar with their prasad.

The temple was peaceful.

The mountain fog slowly rolled across the courtyard like a white blanket.

Then a thin, elderly voice broke the silence.

“Suno, beta…”

Pankti turned.

An old woman sat against one of the pillars near the inner sanctum.

She wore a deep saffron saree.

Her face was covered with wrinkles, but her eyes were surprisingly sharp.

They were fixed directly on Pankti.

The woman raised a trembling hand, silently asking her to come closer.

Pankti immediately stood.

“Namaste, Dadiji.”

She walked over and gently touched the woman’s feet.

“May Mahadev bless you.”

The old woman smiled.

But the warmth disappeared almost instantly.

Her thin fingers suddenly wrapped around Pankti’s wrist.

Aashi noticed the change and stepped closer.

“Do you need something, Dadi? Can we help you?”

Before the woman could answer, the temple priest approached.

His expression changed slightly when he recognized her.

“This is Shanti Ji,” he explained quietly. “She is a lifelong devotee of Mahadev. She rarely speaks to outsiders.”

He paused.

“But she is known for reading the lines of fate.”

Shanti Ji ignored him.

Her attention remained fixed on Pankti.

She slowly turned Pankti’s palm upward.

Her thumb moved across the lines of her hand.

For a few seconds, she said nothing.

Then her expression changed.

First came surprise.

Then shock.

And finally, a strange calmness.

“Your life is about to encounter a storm, child.”

Pankti’s smile disappeared.

“Dadi… what do you mean?”

Shanti Ji looked directly into her eyes.

“Everything you know will burn away in a single night.”

A cold shiver travelled down Pankti’s spine.

“But don’t fear the fire.”

Pankti stared at her, confused.

The old woman’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Mahadev has written a fierce destiny for you.”

She paused.

“He will send a protector… a man born of shadows and steel. A man carrying the wrath and protection of Shiva himself.”

Pankti’s fingers tightened around her dupatta.

“He will claim your world before rebuilding it.”

The words made absolutely no sense.

Yet something about them frightened her.

“Trust the destiny written for you,” Shanti Ji whispered, “even when it feels like a nightmare.”

She suddenly released Pankti’s hand and closed her eyes.

The old woman looked completely exhausted.

Pankti slowly stood up.

Her heart was beating faster than before.

Aarav immediately stepped between them.

“Don’t listen to all that, Pankti,” he said quietly. “These old temple mystics say things like this to scare tourists.”

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go before the fog gets any thicker.”

Pankti followed him.

But as she walked down the temple stairs, the soft ringing of her silver anklets no longer sounded beautiful.

It sounded like a countdown.

A countdown toward a night she didn’t even know was coming.

And somewhere beyond the quiet mountain fog, destiny had already begun moving.

That’s it for today.

Stay tuned for the next chapter. ❤️