Nandini Verma was 18 when she penned her first story, a tale of passion, betrayal, and revenge. It was a masterpiece, poised for publication. But on the night she was to share her brilliance with the world, tragedy struck. Her abusive father, a figu...
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Yash had found me.
I looked at Karan, his arrogance still plastered on his face as he tried to maintain his composure. But I could see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He wanted to be confident, but I could sense the crack in his facade.
“You think he can come here?” Karan scoffed, his voice laced with forced bravado. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, far away from the city. He can’t find us.”
I smirked, feeling a strange surge of calm wash over me. I tilted my head slightly, locking eyes with Karan. “Yash isn’t the hero who would waste his time tracking me down with cars full of men. He’s the fictional villain.”
The realization slowly dawned on Karan, but before he could react, I felt it—a sudden pull. I barely had time to register what was happening before the world around me blurred, twisting and distorting in a flurry of colors and shadows. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the motion stopped.
We had teleported.
I opened my eyes to find myself in another dark room, but this one was different—darker, colder, more oppressive. The air was thick with the same red and black mist, swirling around us like a protective barrier. Karan and my father lay on the floor, disoriented from the teleportation. I glanced at them, watching their confusion with a hint of amusement.
The mist—Yash’s mist—gently lowered the chair I was tied to, almost tenderly, as if cradling me. I chuckled, shaking my head at the thought. My Yash always took care of me, even when he wasn’t physically here.
I scanned the room, searching for him, but all I saw was darkness. The oppressive silence weighed heavy in the air, broken only by the subtle whisper of the mist as it moved around us. Then, something caught my eye—a faint glow in the far corner of the room. At first, I thought it was just a light, but as I focused, I realized it was a glass orb.
Inside that orb was something that made my heart stop.
A manuscript. My manuscript.
Its pages were crumpled and weathered, stained with dried mud and blood. The paper looked fragile, as if it had been drenched in rain and left to dry in the harshest of conditions. I felt a cold dread settle in the pit of my stomach. How could my manuscript be here?
And then, I heard his voice.
“You tried to hurt my Little Swan.”
The voice was low, rough, and filled with anger so palpable that it sent shivers down my spine. Yash’s voice.
My father, ever the coward, tried to threaten him, his words dripping with empty promises of violence. “I’ll kill you,” he spat, trying to sound menacing. “You think you can just take her?”
There was a pause, and then Yash’s voice cut through the room once again, sharp and mocking. “Really?” His tone was dripping with amusement. “I’m terrified.”
My father’s threats were laughable in the face of Yash’s power. The very air around us seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his rage. I didn’t need to see him to know that he was near. I could feel his presence, his power, wrapping around me protectively.
Then, Yash’s voice became softer, more intimate. “Little Swan,” he called to me, his voice barely above a whisper but clear as a bell in the oppressive silence. “Please, see your father for the last time. Then close your eyes, LOVE, and don’t open them until I tell you.”
I didn’t need to look at my father. I knew what was coming, and I welcomed it. I turned my head slightly, whispering into the air, knowing Yash could hear me. “Please… end my nightmares. Once and for all.”
With that, I closed my eyes, shutting out the world. For a moment, everything was still, but then I heard it—the sound of flames crackling, the unmistakable sound of bones breaking, followed by my father’s agonized screams. I knew without looking that Yash was fulfilling his promise, burning my father to ash.
The crackling grew louder, and then there was silence.
" open your eyes my love".
I felt the ropes around my wrists loosen, the red and black mist swirling around my hands, freeing me from my binds. Slowly, I opened my eyes, looking down at my hands. The mist caressed my skin, gentle and warm, as if comforting me.
Karan was on the floor, his face pale and filled with fear. He had seen everything—the power Yash held, the destruction he could bring with just a thought. Karan, once a symbol of my teenage fantasies, now looked small, insignificant.
Yash hadn’t fully revealed himself yet, but the mist began to part, and I finally saw him.
He stepped forward, emerging from the darkness, black feathers burning in red fire. His outfit was pure villain—dark, imposing, exuding raw power. His eyes glowed a deep, violent red, filled with an anger that even I found frightening. For a brief moment, I was scared of him. But then, our eyes met, and I knew—he was still MY Yash.
Karan tried to regain his composure, forcing a smirk as he stood. “You can’t hurt me,” he sneered, though his voice wavered. “If you do, your precious Swan will suffer too.”
I turned to Yash, unsure of what would happen next, but he only smirked in response. Without a word, he looked toward the manuscript. The glass orb shattered, and the pages of the manuscript began to burn, the flames licking at the paper. As the pages burned, they dissolved into the swirling mist, disappearing into the red and black haze.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
“No… no… it can’t be,” I whispered, horror flooding my veins. I rushed toward Yash, my hands trembling as I tried to stop him. “Please, stop. Don’t do this.”
Tears streamed down my face as I reached out, trying to pull his hands away, but he only pulled me closer, his grip firm yet gentle. One of his hands slid from my waist to the back of my neck, pulling me against him, our foreheads touching.
With his other hand, he gestured, and the mist coiled around Karan’s throat, lifting him off the ground. Karan struggled, but Yash’s attention never left me.
“I want you to live,” Yash said softly, his voice filled with sorrow. “Even if it’s without the memory of me … so be it.”
I sobbed, pressing against his chest, pleading with him realising what he was doing . “Please, Yash. Don’t. I’d rather die with your memories than live without them. Please don’t make me forget.”
Yash smiled, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye. “I love you, Little Swan… more than you could ever imagine. Beyond limits, beyond the rules of nature. You gave me a place in your world, even if it was as a villain. And I… I’m glad I got to love you.”
Karan’s struggles grew weaker as the mist consumed him, and I could feel Yash’s body slowly fading, dissolving into the mist.
“No,” I whispered, my heart breaking as I tried to hold onto him. “Please… don’t leave me. I love you, Yash.”
He smiled one last time, pressing a soft kiss to my nose as the black and red mist swirled around us . “Remember me… as the rain. Don’t be afraid of it anymore. Just… let me go. My author sahiba. ”
And then he was gone.
The world around me went dark, and I collapsed into unconsciousness, the last traces of the red and black mist swirling away into nothingness.
"But the black feather pendant didn't disappear. "
