Time: 3:47 A.M.
Location: Somewhere along the Pakistan-Afghanistan Border
Status: Redacted
There was one candle burning in the bunker, throwing long shadows on memory-stained concrete walls. The woman at the center of it was hardly discernible—black-clad, head bent down, her fingers running along the edge of a battered copper coin.
She hadn't uttered a word in hours.
Then a faint knock.
A coded beat: 2-2-1.
The door creaked open. A man stepped in, weathered face, military boots, and shaking hands.
"It's time, ma'am."
The woman at last raised her gaze.
Rina More.
Alive.
Eyes frigid as exile. Voice as silky as vengeance.
"Start the broadcast," she commanded.
Flashback – Mumbai, 2002
A woman darts through smoke. Sirens wail. Children weep. Men in saffron and green slaughter each other on lines of fantasy.
Rina drags a small child out from under a toppled fruit cart. Blood on her hands. Not hers.
Always not hers.
She makes a choice.
Disappear.
Die on record.
Live in war.
So she does.
She fakes the car crash.
Leaves Devraj More behind.
Leaves Arpan behind.
And becomes something else.
Present Day – Alibaug
Samruddhi's hands trembled as she reread the message Raghav had decrypted:
"Asset RINA operational. Code: VAKRA-NETRA active. MISSION: Legacy reset."
"VAKRA-NETRA," she whispered. "The crooked eye."
Arpan sat silent.
Expression carved from stone.
"My mother is alive. And she's dismantling the empire she once built."
Raghav shook his head. "You were never supposed to inherit. You were supposed to be buried with it."
Samruddhi looked at Arpan.
"What if she wants to erase us both?"
He stood. Went to the window. Rain carved runes on the glass.
"She always did," he replied.
Scene Shift – Underground Communications Vault, New Delhi
Karishma broke into the encrypted servers of the Intelligence Bureau. Sweat glistened on her neck.
She evaded three firewalls.
Located a name: RINA MORE.
Listed as Presumed Dead.
Status: CLASSIFIED THREAT—Level: BLACK LOTUS.
She gasped.
Under "Associates," she saw three names:
Jai Jadhav
Devraj More
Colonel Taimur Yousuf
Karishma whispered: "My parents weren't enemies. They were co-conspirators."
The screen blinked.
New mail. No sender.
"You're in too deep, little lotus."
She slammed the laptop shut.
Scene Change – Mumbai, Dawn
A broadcast hijacked every screen in the city.
Phones. TVs. Airport signage. Even digital hoardings in Andheri.
A voice—modulated, but unmistakable to those who remembered.
"I am Rina More.
I constructed the dynasty. Then I saw it decay.
This city soaked in our blood and survived on our deception. But the truth is not a revolution—it's a restart.
Arpan.
Samruddhi.
You believe you've won something. But you've only turned over the first page.
Meet me where it started."
"VARANASI. During the night of the lunar eclipse."
"Only one of you leaves alive."
Silence.
Then pandemonium.
Phones erupted with beeps.
The manhunt had started.
Final Scene – Rooftop, South Mumbai
Arpan stood at the ledge, eyes shut.
Samruddhi came alongside him, city yawning open behind her like a wound.
She addressed him without looking at him.
"So. Your mother wants us to kill each other."
He nodded. "She wants the winner to wear the crown."
Samruddhi faced him. "Then let's do something she never expected."
Arpan's eyes shifted. "What?"
Her smile was made of ice.
"We don't kill each other. We kill her."
To be continued.