Chapter 8: The Vanishing and the Storm

Arjun's POV

The temple courtyard shimmered in the morning sun, but Arjun stood still as stone, eyes fixed on the empty spot near the old Shivling. She was gone again. Like a whisper in the wind, she had slipped away the moment his gaze faltered.

He took a few hesitant steps forward, half-expecting her to reappear like some enchanted vision. But the air felt empty, still. Only the soft chants of the priests echoed through the distance, their voices rising like a prayer.

And then something caught his eye—a glint on the stone floor. He blinked, wondering if it was just another trick his mind was playing on him.

A silver anklet.

His heart skipped a beat. He bent down and picked it up gingerly, as though it were made of glass. The tiny crescent moon dangled from it, delicate and impossibly beautiful. It felt familiar—too familiar.

"She's real," he whispered to himself, fingers curling around the ornament. "Not a dream. This... this is real."

He tucked the anklet carefully into his pocket, as though it would vanish if he moved too quickly, and turned back toward the temple. He needed to focus, get back to the mission. But his mind kept drifting to the girl. Why had she vanished so suddenly? And why was the anklet here, like a clue left behind just for him?

Inside the temple, all hell was breaking loose.

"Ravi, I swear, if you touch that wheel again, I'll take away your driving privileges forever!" Vikram's voice carried across the room, grating with frustration.

Ravi, grinning like an idiot, was currently engaged in an intense battle with the temple's wheel of fortune—he seemed to believe that spinning it might reveal some hidden prophecy, or maybe just get them some good karma.

Vikram rolled his eyes. "I swear, we're not on some pilgrimage to find enlightenment. We're just trying to get to Varnalok without getting lost in a different universe."

Arjun walked in, overhearing their banter. "Ravi's navigation is always a 'gift' we didn't ask for," Arjun muttered, plopping into the seat next to Vikram.

"Tell me about it," Vikram said, exasperated. "I don't know which is worse—Ravi's direction sense or his 'insightful' commentary on the weather."

"I'm a weather expert," Ravi protested, finally abandoning the wheel and turning to face them. "It's not my fault the winds of fate are leading us in... a slightly wrong direction."

"Wrong direction?" Arjun raised an eyebrow. "You've had us driving in circles for the past hour. This isn't a *slightly* wrong direction, Ravi. This is the kind of wrong that gets people stranded on a deserted island."

Ravi grinned sheepishly. "Hey, at least we're getting our steps in."

"Yeah, because *we're walking to Varnalok,* right?" Vikram scoffed.

An hour later, the "navigation expert" had them driving straight into a dead end. "This doesn't look like Varnalok," Arjun said, staring at the suspiciously familiar banyan tree they'd passed a few moments ago.

"No, no, different banyan," Ravi insisted with the kind of authority that only comes from someone who's obviously lost.

Vikram, not one for subtlety, was less forgiving. "Are we on a *tour* of Rajasthan's haunted trees, or are we actually trying to get somewhere?"

They drove in circles for what felt like an eternity, the tension rising with every passing minute. Finally, the fuel gauge blinked a warning, and the car sputtered ominously.

"Wonderful," Arjun muttered under his breath. "At this rate, we'll be hitchhiking with camels."

"Do you think the camels give rides for free?" Ravi piped up, eyes glinting mischievously. "Because I've been thinking about offering them a tip for my next detour."

"Ravi," Arjun groaned, "if we end up in the middle of a camel fair, I will *personally* find a way to sell you to the highest bidder."

"Fine, fine," Ravi said, giving in. "No camel fair today. But I'm telling you, these detours will be famous one day."

Eventually, they stumbled upon a small hotel, nestled at the edge of a barely-paved road. The place looked like it could be the set of a horror film titled *Haunted and Forgotten: The Motel Edition.*

At the front desk, a woman with a face full of dramatic makeup and a flirtatious air greeted them.

"Well, hello there," she purred, locking eyes with Arjun. "You must be in trouble."

Arjun blinked. "We just need petrol. Know a place?"

"Only one station here, sweetie," the receptionist drawled, her accent thick with sweetness. "One hour's drive away. Opens at dawn. Till then... you're mine, I mean my guest"

Vikram snorted. "Arjun's collecting fans like Pokémon cards."

Ravi leaned over the counter, eyes twinkling. "And you are?"

"Roxy," she answered, batting her eyelashes. "Receptionist by day, heartbreak by night."

"Do you offer room service… with a side of sarcasm?" Ravi asked, grinning like an idiot.

Roxy's grin was wide. "Only for charming idiots like you."

"I feel personally attacked," Ravi muttered, retreating with a wounded look on his face.

Arjun sighed. "We'll take a room."

Roxy tossed him a key, eyes still twinkling. "Room 101. But if you get lonely... I'll be in room 102."

As they made their way to the room, Arjun couldn't shake the feeling that the entire situation was some kind of bizarre cosmic joke. They were supposed to be hunting down a witch, yet here he was, stuck in some rundown hotel with an overly flirtatious receptionist and two friends who couldn't even read a map.

Inside the room, it was a cacophony of chaos. Vikram was swatting mosquitoes with a towel like it was a life-or-death mission. Ravi was inspecting the mini-fridge like it contained the secrets of the universe. Meanwhile, Arjun sat near the window, staring out into the night, spinning the anklet between his fingers.

His phone rang, cutting through the noise.

"Karn?" Arjun answered, his voice a little more serious.

"We have her," came the voice on the other end. It was tight, urgent, like a rope ready to snap.

Arjun's heart skipped a beat. "Wait—"

Click.

The line went dead.

His mind reeled, and for the briefest moment, a sense of relief washed over him. The witch had been captured. This should've been a victory. But instead, a gnawing unease twisted in his stomach.

The mystery girl was still gone. The witch, captured.

And he was... somewhere in the middle, trying to make sense of a situation that refused to be understood.

---

By morning, they were back on the road, heading toward the petrol station. Roxy handed Arjun a paper bag with sandwiches, tossing him a wink that felt like it came straight out of a rom-com.

"A little something for the road," she said, her voice teasing. "But if you ever get tired of playing hero..."

"I'll send Ravi," Arjun deadpanned, cutting her off.

"Oi!" Ravi protested from the backseat.

As they continued their drive, Ravi managed to detour *again*, leading them to yet another bizarre location. "Why are we at a camel fair?" Arjun asked, his patience finally snapping.

"Cultural detour?" Ravi suggested weakly, knowing full well it was the worst excuse ever.

"You need Google Maps for your brain," Vikram muttered from the front seat.

The journey was a comedy of errors—bumpy roads, wrong turns, and one very unfortunate goat collision (the goat was fine, Ravi wasn't). By the time they reached Jaipur, evening had fallen, and the haveli loomed ahead like a foreboding presence, casting long shadows across the courtyard.

Arjun's instincts flared. Something was wrong.

His mother greeted him at the door, her face pale, eyes heavy with fatigue.

"She escaped."

Arjun froze. "What?"

"The witch," she said quietly. "She's gone."

"She was caught—Karn said—"

"She escaped last night. And she didn't do it alone. Someone helped her. Someone powerful."

Arjun's pulse quickened, a feeling of dread creeping up his spine.

"Your father is furious," his mother added.

Arjun walked inside, the weight of the news pressing down on him like a storm cloud. His father was pacing near the hearth, his face dark with anger.

"You were in Varnalok," his father snapped. "How convenient. And while you were sightseeing, she slipped away from us. The chains melted. The guards unconscious. Whoever helped her knew our spells, our protections."

"We'll catch her again," Arjun replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You better," his father's voice was low, dangerous. "Or the curse won't be the only thing ending this family line."

---

Later that night, in the solitude of his room, Arjun sat by the window. The anklet rested in his hand again, its crescent moon swaying softly in the dim light.

He thought about the girl—the mystery girl. Her presence had been peaceful, soft, like a whispered prayer. And the witch—destructive, wild, cursed.

Two women so different, yet somehow, they both stirred something inside him. One brought him peace. The other, rage.

The storm inside him rumbled.

The mystery girl had vanished.

The witch had escaped.

And Arjun? He was standing at the eye of the storm, and he had no idea which way the winds would blow next.