This Story of Three Sisters: Vidhi, Megha, and Krishnapriya. They are Incarnation of Tridevi.
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Krishnapriya stood before the statue, her breath catching in her throat. The figure was a paradox: its eyes held a gentle simplicity, while the jaw was set with a terrifying, iron-willed harshness. There was a magnetic pull to the stone, a gravity that demanded respect. Even Krishnapriya, who had trained under the divine gaze of Adyashakti, felt her knees weaken.
"Vidhi," Krishnapriya whispered, her voice trembling with a sudden, cold realization. "Where is our Megha? Where is our sister?"
Vidhi didn’t look back. She simply pointed towards the towering idol. "She is here," Vidhi said softly, her voice heavy with a decade of grief. "She has sat here forever, watching the temple."
As they entered the Tridevi temple, the atmosphere shifted from the heat of the city to a cool, oppressive silence. Krishnapriya, known for her temper that flared like a brushfire, had become a master of her senses—yet the air here tested her resolve.
She knelt before the altars, but something felt wrong. While the statues of Saraswati and Mahadevi glowed with celestial light, the idol of Mahalakshmi looked... extinguished. The stone was dull, the "divine spark" seemingly drained away.
Suddenly, a voice vibrated through the stones of the floor. It was Vidhi’s voice, but she hadn't moved her lips. It resonated through the sanctum sanctorum: "Didi, the body of our beloved Megha is gone. The sea claimed her, and the waves have hidden her away. She lives now only in the hollows of our hearts."
The words hit Krishnapriya like a physical weight. She didn't scream or rage as she might have in her younger years. Instead, she leaned her forehead against the cool base of the Mahalakshmi idol. "Mother," she vowed in a fierce, low whisper, "I was not here to catch her when she fell. But I will do everything in this life to bring her back. I promise you."
After a long, meditative silence, Vidhi opened her eyes. The air between the sisters began to shimmer.
"Megha left something for you," Vidhi said, extending her palm. A sphere of pure, pulsating light bloomed in the air. "She entrusted her memories to me for safekeeping, but they were always meant for you. They are your birthright. Accept them."
As the light drifted toward her, Krishnapriya reached out. For a heartbeat, she saw Megha’s face—not in stone, but in flesh—smiling, laughing, and weeping. When the light touched her chest, it felt like a cold shock of water entering her veins.
"Meditate," Vidhi urged, her voice sounding distant. "Let the vision take hold."
Krishnapriya closed her eyes and let go of the temple, the smell of incense, and the sound of the wind. A thick, gray mist swirled behind her eyelids. Slowly, painfully, the clouds began to part. The blur sharpened into the vibrant colors of a past she hadn't lived, and suddenly, she wasn’t standing in the temple anymore—she was seeing the world through Megha's eyes.
