Veer didn't care about the warnings.
Didn't care about consequences.
Didn't even care about death.
All he cared about was getting her back.
Even if she wasn't entirely human anymore.
Even if what returned… wasn't entirely Aarohi.
He met Father Desai in a crumbling, abandoned church on the outskirts of town. Rain lashed against the broken stained-glass windows. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating cracked angels and long-dead prayers.
"This is madness," Desai said, lighting candles in a perfect circle. "What you're asking—to pull someone back from beneath. From Hollowridge. It's not resurrection. It's—"
"Don't say it," Veer interrupted. "I don't care."
Desai sighed, holding out a scroll wrapped in waxed twine.
"It's called the Ritual of Return. It's older than the church, older than Christianity. You'll need three things:"
He counted on trembling fingers:
"Blood of love—yours. Given willingly."
"Ash of sacrifice—from the place she died."
"And a name never spoken since death—hers."
Veer clenched his jaw. "Then let's begin."
They drove back to Hollowridge.
Of course, it wasn't called that anymore.
On maps, it was just an empty patch of land.
But they both knew the truth.
They parked at the edge of the forest.
The rain had stopped, but fog choked the trees like smoke. Every step felt heavier. Like the earth remembered.
At the very center of the clearing, Veer fell to his knees.
He cut his palm and let the blood drip into the soil.
Father Desai crushed a handful of the black flower petals—the Ash of Sacrifice—and sprinkled them around.
And then…
Veer whispered her name.
Soft.
Full of pain.
"Aarohi."
The ground didn't shake.
The sky didn't scream.
There was no thunder.
Only stillness.
And then—
A heartbeat.
Not Veer's.
Not Desai's.
The land itself.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The trees bent backward as if something was pushing up from below.
And then—
She stood there.
Aarohi.
Wearing the same white dress from Veer's dreams. Her eyes glowing faint silver. Her skin pale, but not cold.
Veer gasped. "You're back…"
She tilted her head.
Smiled softly.
But said nothing.
Desai stepped forward, raising a charm.
"Wait," Veer warned.
But it was too late.
Aarohi's eyes flashed black.
She whispered something—in a language no human should know.
And Desai's crucifix exploded in his hand.
He fell back, burned and gasping.
Veer rushed to him, but Desai gripped his arm, eyes wide with terror.
"That's not her!"
Aarohi floated forward.
Veer stood between them. "Aarohi… please. If you're still in there, fight it."
For a moment, something flickered in her face.
Something… human.
But it vanished.
Her voice was a whisper, yet it echoed through the trees:
"You brought me back. But I didn't come alone."
She opened her palm.
From it poured ash. Bones. Blood.
The ground split beneath her feet—
—and dozens of shadowed arms reached up, clawing at the sky.
Father Desai screamed, "The god is leaking through her! Veer—seal it! SEAL IT!"
Veer didn't move.
He just looked into her eyes.
And whispered:
"I'm sorry."
He pulled the second blade from his coat—the obsidian one Desai had given him months ago.
He stepped forward.
And stabbed it into the earth at her feet.
Light erupted.
The shadows screamed.
Aarohi's face twisted—not in pain…
…but in sorrow.
She looked at Veer one last time.
One tear.
One word.
"Why?"
And then—
She vanished.
Veer fell to his knees.
Ash rained from the sky.
Desai lay unconscious behind him.
And from beneath the cracked soil, something laughed.
Not Aarohi.
Not Dev.
Something deeper.
Watching. Waiting.