Episode 1: Shadows and SparksThe forest was a pitch-black canvas, stitched with whispers and dread. Crickets had long gone silent. A thick mist curled low around the trees like it was afraid to rise. From the darkness, a figure stepped forward—tall, hooded, cloaked in rags that fluttered like dying flames in the night air.
His name was Kaskira. His eyes gleamed like burning coal beneath the shroud. Intricate black tattoos twisted over his arms like living serpents, pulsing with energy that seemed stolen from death itself.
A man—bleeding, broken—crawled at Kaskira’s feet.
“P-Please… don’t…” he sobbed.
But Kaskira didn’t speak. He lifted a boulder with inhuman ease and brought it down in one terrifying arc.
The silence shattered. Blood spattered across the earth.
Kaskira knelt and tore into the corpse like a beast, ripping a piece of flesh and chewing slowly. Power flickered around him—shadows gathered like moths to his hunger.
Then, his head snapped up.He looked forward.At you.
Miles away, Vikramaditya jerked awake in a cold sweat. His heart thundered in his chest as if it remembered a battle he hadn’t fought yet. His breath came in sharp bursts, his eyes wild with fear.
It was still dark. The faint morning light hadn’t yet broken through his window, but a knock on the door grounded him.
“Vikky?” came a familiar voice. “Are you okay?”
He staggered to the door and opened it to find Vishala, her soft eyes filled with concern. Her dark hair framed her face like silk, and even wrapped in a simple shawl, she looked like something out of a dream.Vikky tried to smile. “Just a nightmare.”“You’re shaking,” she said, reaching up to gently touch his cheek. The warmth of her hand almost made him forget the darkness that clung to his thoughts.
“I need coffee,” he muttered. “Will you…?”
She chuckled. “Only if you promise to wash your face first.”
Vishala turned and walked toward the kitchen, her hips swaying slightly. She always knew how to bring light into his shadowed mornings.
Later, coffee in hand, Vikky stood on the terrace. The morning breeze tugged at his shirt. He stared at the sky, the dream gnawing at him like a hidden fire.
“It wasn’t just a dream…” he whispered. “That thing… that face…”
A gust of wind blew past him, carrying with it a memory—a scent of blood, the glow of tattoos, the crushing weight of fear.
Then, in the metal edge of the terrace railing, he saw it.
A reflection.
A dark figure, hooded… watching him.
Vikky spun around.
No one.
His breath caught. His hand tightened around the coffee mug.
Was it real? Or was his mind still trapped in that terrible dream?
He returned to his room, his thoughts swirling. The walls seemed closer today, his world smaller, colder.
Moments later, Vishala entered,
“You haven’t even touched the coffee,” she said softly.
Vikky looked up, his eyes stormy. “I’ve been thinking.”
She sat beside him without a word and gently reached for his hand.
“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone,” she whispered. “Maybe this time… someone else should protect you.”
The room fell silent. Her touch was warm, grounding. Their eyes met, and something deep shifted between them.
Vikky leaned in—just a breath away from her lips.
Her breath caught.
But just as the moment hung there like magic, a notification beeped on his phone. It shattered the silence like a stone through glass.
He glanced at it. It's Venky...
Vishala looked down, hiding the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.
“I’ll be back soon,” Vikky said, getting up.
“I’ll be waiting,” she whispered, barely audible.
As he walked away, she stayed seated, clutching the cup of coffee, still warm in her hands.
To be Continued.....
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liked the Narration.
