As evening draped the sky in hues of deep indigo, we returned to the house, our clothes dripping and our spirits high. Laughter still lingered in the air, the echoes of a carefree day spent in Palshett's embrace.

Tatya and Gopal were seated on the porch, their voices wrapped in a quiet conversation that paused as we approached. Tatya's eyes twinkled with curiosity.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, his gaze shifting between me and Neelambari.

"We did," Neelambari answered, her face glowing.

That night, as I lay on the thin mattress, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling, the weight of my mission pressed down on me. I had to save the haunted house. I had to find Ramesh's ancestors. And I had to kill them to save my family.

The thought was overwhelming, a suffocating burden. But I couldn't falter now. Not when I had come this far.

By dawn, clarity settled in my bones like armor. I wasn't alone. I had Neelambari, and I had to protect her just as much as I had to protect myself.

Aunt Radha had taken me to the doctors, their examinations thorough yet fruitless. "Physically, she's in perfect health," they had assured her.

Tatya, ever perceptive, had pressed me about my experiences. I told him of the disembodied whispers from the well and the charred ghost that haunted my vision. But I kept the strangest truth. My dreams and my origins locked away.

When he offered me a place to stay, I hesitated but declined. Palshett wasn't just a place; it was the bridge between my past and my future. Leaving it behind wasn't an option.

---

The next morning, Aunt Radha and I walked through the garden. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, mingling with the fiery red blooms of the gulmohar tree. We settled beneath its sprawling branches, the shade offering momentary relief from the rising sun.

She turned to me, her voice softer than I had ever heard it. "Saudamini, I need to tell you something."

I glanced at her, sensing the weight of her words before she even spoke them.

"Your Aunt Kala... she experienced something similar." She exhaled shakily, her brown eyes glistening. "Back then, we were ignorant. But I promise, I won't let history repeat itself. I will protect you."

The wind tugged at her saree, blowing away the pallu that shielded her face. I caught her trembling hands in mine.

"What happened to Aunt Kala?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

She swallowed, her fingers tightening around mine. "She was the princess of our family, the youngest, the most beloved. And then... she changed. One moment, she was the same cheerful girl we knew, and the next, she was someone else entirely."

My stomach twisted. "Changed how?"

"She started sitting by the lake, speaking to things we couldn't see. She would laugh one moment and scream the next. Servants bore the brunt of her wrath. She lashed out at them without reason. We didn't understand it. And then, just a week before her death, she... she did something unforgivable."

A chill crawled down my spine.

"At the time, your grandfather Malhar Rao had retired, and Vallabh had taken his place as the head of the household. My sister-in-law, Janabai, was seven months pregnant with you."

I blinked. "With me?"

Aunt Radha nodded, her voice cracking. "Kala brought mangoes for Janabai, claiming a priest had given them to her. She insisted Janabai eat them, but your mother refused. And then..."

She took a deep breath, as if trying to push back memories too painful to recall.

"When Janabai refused, Kala... snapped. She growled, her voice nothing like her own. Then she pushed Janabai down the stairs."

The world spun.

"The fall sent Janabai into premature labor. Amidst the chaos, Kala " Aunt Radha hesitated, her lips trembling, "She drowned in the well."

A heavy silence settled between us.

"Your grandfather sealed off the courtyard after that," she whispered.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Then we'll save her."

Aunt Radha's gaze snapped to mine. "I'm not sure it's really Kala," she murmured.

Something in her tone sent a shiver through me. "Why do you say that?"

She hesitated before speaking again. "The family astrologer made your kundali when you were born. It predicts... Never mind." She shook her head, brushing away her own words.

"Aunt" I pressed, but she rose abruptly, pulling her saree's pallu over her head.

"I'll send word to your father. Then we'll leave. Everything will be fine." But her voice wavered.

She turned to leave but stopped mid-step. When she spoke again, her voice was cold, distant.

"I don't want to relive any more tragedies."

I shivered.

Her words weren't just a warning. They were a plea.

---

That evening, I bid farewell to Tatya's family.

Neelambari clutched a rough parchment in her small hands, her ink-stained fingers curled around its edges. "I'll write to you," she promised, her wide eyes filled with something raw and unspoken.

I smiled, ruffling her hair. "I'll be waiting."

As the sun dipped beyond the horizon, casting long shadows across Palshett, I felt the weight of my destiny settle onto my shoulders.

Saudamini's fate wasn't mine to share.

I was Damini.

And I would uncover the truth no matter what it cost me.