A new sun seemed to have risen in the blue sky of the Junagarh palace today. Since the return of Prafulla and Snigdha, every brick of the palace seemed to have regained its life. As the sweet morning sunlight fell upon the marble corridors, the clanging of swords echoed from the training grounds. Prafulla and Snigdha were engrossed in combat practice with each other. Prafulla's sword moved like a flash of lightning, while Snigdha's agility made her look like an indomitable warrior queen. Standing on the balcony, Aditya and Arohi watched their children in fascination. Aditya's heart swelled with pride—the five years of yearning had finally found its reward. Suddenly, little Prabhasha ran onto the field. Holding a small wooden sword in her hand, she mimicked the elders and shouted, "Brother! Sister! Will you only play by yourselves? Won't you take me?" Prafulla laughed, stopped his sword, and swept Prabhasha up in his arms. Snigdha gave Prabhasha's nose an affectionate flick and said, "You have quite some fire in you! Come, from today, I myself will give you special training to become a true Princess of Junagarh." Seeing such pure love between the three siblings, tears of joy welled up in Arohi's eyes. She silently bowed to the Almighty, praying that this happiness would last forever.
As the day progressed, the festive notes of the shehnai echoed through the palace. Today, Arohi's mother, the Queen Mother of Kanchangarh, arrived in person. The kinship and alliance between the two kingdoms reached a new height. A grand feast was organized, surrounded by floral decorations and the cheers of the subjects. But parallel to this festival of light, a creeping darkness was spreading deep beneath the palace floors. In the damp dungeon of Junagarh, Sushila was now a living ghoul. After Shilajit's death, she had become even more vicious, even more desperate. Her hideous face was blackened with rage and envy. Today, she cunningly bribed a greedy guard. Handing the guard a poisonous, needle-like thorn, Sushila whispered, "Go! Tonight, when everyone is intoxicated by the festival, just prick this thorn into that Prafulla's body. Arohi gave me this hell; I will empty her lap!" The echo of Sushila's demonic laughter crashed against the prison walls.
Late at night, when the people of the palace were deep in sleep after the exhaustion of the festivities, the guard moved silently like a shadow toward the Prince's chamber. But he did not know that in Kanchangarh, Prafulla had not only learned to wield a sword but also to recognize the sound of an enemy's breath even in deep sleep. As an unfamiliar shadow moved near the window, Prafulla roared in the dark, "Who is there?" When the guard tried to flee in terror, Prafulla pounced like a tiger and grabbed him by the throat. Seeing the poisonous thorn in his hand, Prafulla realized exactly whose work it was. Without worrying Aditya or Arohi, Prafulla dragged the guard all the way to the dark dungeon.
Sushila was waiting at the prison bars in anticipation of distorted joy. Suddenly, she saw Prafulla standing before her, a blood-stained sword in his hand. Seeing the cold fire in Prafulla's eyes, Sushila's soul trembled. In a voice as cold as ice, Prafulla said, "Sushila, my mother is kind, which is why she still allows you to breathe. But remember, I am not like my mother. Before you reach for my family again, think twice—this sword will not take a moment to strike your head off." Sushila cowered in the corner of the cell in fear; her final move had turned to dust. Outside, the silver moon stood guard over Junagarh. Arohi, standing by the window, felt a strange peace in the light wintry breeze, unaware that her brave son had silently averted a great danger today.