Niranjan Pathak
Nina Kapoor’s heart raced as the dusty roads of Rajasthan stretched endlessly before her, each turn taking her deeper into the forgotten heart of the desert. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the desolate landscape, turning the world into a haze of orange and pink. Nina, a young historian from Delhi, had come here with a single purpose: to investigate the ancient ruins of the Shivani Mata Temple, a place shrouded in mystery and steeped in legend.
The village she arrived in, Kundalpur, was a relic of a bygone era. It lay at the edge of the Thar Desert, its buildings made of crumbling sandstone, their facades weathered by the relentless winds. The people here lived simple lives, their days spent tending to cattle and collecting water from the few wells scattered throughout the village. But there was something unsettling about the place—something Nina couldn’t quite place. The villagers, though polite, avoided her gaze, and many hurried past her, as if they were afraid to engage. The older women whispered to each other when she passed, their voices laced with worry. It was clear that Nina’s presence was not welcomed.
She made her way to the local inn, a small structure with faded walls and a low roof. The innkeeper, an elderly man named Kailash, greeted her with a tight-lipped smile. His hands shook as he handed her the key to a small room at the back of the building. “You’re here to see the temple, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice hushed.
Nina nodded, her curiosity piqued. “Yes, I’ve come to study its history. The temple was abandoned centuries ago, but there are still many stories surrounding it.”
Kailash’s face darkened. He leaned closer to her. “Not many come to Kundalpur to study the temple anymore, miss. It’s a place better left undisturbed. The curse of Shivani Mata still lingers. You’re better off leaving it alone.”
Nina frowned, dismissing his warnings as superstition. As a historian, she wasn’t one to give in to such tales. “I understand your concern, but I’m here to uncover the truth, not to bow to myths.”
The old man didn’t seem convinced. His eyes flickered nervously toward the window as a sudden gust of wind howled outside, carrying with it the scent of sand and decay. He hesitated, then added, “Be careful, miss. The silence around the temple… it’s unnatural. No bird sings, no wind howls. It’s as if the earth itself is holding its breath.”
Later that evening, as the desert sky darkened, Nina ventured outside to explore the village. The silence that surrounded her was unnerving. The air was still, as though time had paused. She wandered towards the outskirts of Kundalpur, where the temple was said to be. The earth felt heavy beneath her feet, as if it too was weary from the years of neglect. But it was the absence of sound that unsettled her the most. The desert, usually alive with the rustling of winds, was eerily quiet. Not a single bird called out. Not even the wind stirred.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Nina felt the weight of the village’s silence settle in. It was as though the land itself was warning her. But she didn’t turn back. Tomorrow, she would visit the ruins of Shivani Mata Temple, determined to uncover the secrets it held. Little did she know, the whispers of the past were already watching her, waiting for her to cross the threshold into something far darker than she could ever imagine.
_
The next morning, Nina stood at the edge of the village, looking out toward the distant hills. The sun was still low, casting long shadows across the sand, but the heat already began to rise in waves from the ground. She was eager to get to the temple ruins, but something tugged at her—a deep, gnawing feeling of unease. The villagers’ warnings echoed in her mind as she set off toward the temple, her footsteps crunching softly on the dry earth.
As she walked, the landscape seemed to shift. The path grew more uneven, with thorny bushes and jagged rocks breaking the otherwise smooth expanse of desert. It was a barren place, the only signs of life being the occasional desert bird soaring in the sky, though they didn’t linger for long. No animals roamed freely here, and the wind was oddly still. The silence, it seemed, was all-encompassing.
After an hour of walking, Nina finally reached the base of the hill where the temple stood, its once majestic structure now little more than a pile of crumbling stones. It sat in a clearing, the skeletal remains of walls reaching up toward the sky, and the sun cast long shadows across the ruins, making the place seem even more desolate. She couldn’t help but shiver despite the rising heat. The stories she had read about Shivani Mata’s temple were much grander than this. She had expected a grander ruin, something that spoke of a once powerful deity, but what lay before her was forgotten, reduced to dust.
Nina slowly climbed the stone steps that led to the entrance. As she did, she noticed a strange absence—no insects, no birds, not even the hum of the wind. It was as though the very air was holding its breath. She pushed open the weathered wooden doors, which creaked in protest, and stepped into the temple.
The inside was even worse than the exterior. The ceiling had collapsed in parts, leaving jagged edges of stone to dangle precariously. The floor was covered in sand and debris, remnants of what seemed to be centuries of neglect. But even in this dilapidated state, there was an undeniable energy to the place—a heavy, oppressive presence that seemed to fill the air. The walls were adorned with faded murals of the goddess Shivani Mata in various poses, some showing her as a benevolent protector, others depicting her in terrifying, wrathful forms.
Nina’s eyes were drawn to a large altar in the center of the room. It was covered in dust, but the stone had been chipped away as if something had been hastily removed. She knelt beside it, brushing away the sand and dirt. Her fingers touched a strange symbol carved into the altar, a mark she recognized from her research: an intricate, spiral design encircling an eye. This was no ordinary temple—this was a place of immense power, and Nina could feel it in her bones.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, soft and distant, as if carried on the wind. It was faint but clear, and Nina froze.
“Leave this place, child. You do not belong here.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. She spun around, but the temple was empty. No one was there. Just the remnants of stone and dust. Nina shook her head, dismissing it as a trick of the wind, or perhaps her own imagination. But the voice lingered in her mind, echoing in her ears.
She returned her attention to the altar, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. As she leaned in closer, she noticed something strange—small scratches in the stone, as though something had been dragged across it repeatedly. She reached into her bag and pulled out a flashlight, shining it across the surface. To her horror, she saw that the marks seemed to form a pattern—symbols, almost like a language.
Nina’s curiosity was piqued. She had to learn more. She took out her notebook and began scribbling down her observations, the eerie silence pressing in on her with every passing second. But as she wrote, she felt an undeniable presence in the air—like eyes watching her from every corner of the room. The longer she stayed, the heavier the air became, thick with an oppressive energy that seemed to want to choke her.
At that moment, the wind outside howled, rattling the temple doors. The temperature dropped suddenly, and a chill ran down her spine. The whispers returned—softer now, but more insistent. She couldn’t make out the words, but they felt like a warning. It was as if the very stones of the temple were alive, warning her to leave before it was too late.
Nina stood up abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest. She stuffed her notebook into her bag and turned to leave, but just as she reached the doorway, she heard it again—the voice, this time much closer, almost at her ear.
“The curse has already begun.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine. Without a second thought, Nina fled the temple, running back toward the village. She didn’t stop until she reached the safety of the inn. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her hands shook as she slammed the door shut behind her.
The silence followed her, creeping into her thoughts. The temple was alive, and it was calling to her. But she didn’t know yet whether she had come to uncover the truth—or to become a part of its dark history.
_
Nina couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her chest. Even after returning to the inn, the whispers from the temple echoed in her mind, their soft murmurs like the winds of the desert—unsettling, constant, impossible to ignore. She had expected the temple’s ruins to be silent and forgotten, but what she had experienced was anything but. It was as though the place had eyes, watching her every move, waiting for something. The voice—clear, insistent—still lingered in her mind, “The curse has already begun.”
As the sun sank lower, Nina decided to confront the mystery head-on. She couldn’t leave without understanding what she had stumbled upon. Her notebook lay open on the small wooden table beside the bed, the strange symbols from the altar scribbled across the pages. She knew she needed more information—anything that could explain what she had encountered. But there was only one place she could turn for answers: the village’s old library.
Kailash, the innkeeper, had mentioned the library briefly, suggesting it was nothing more than a collection of old, dusty books. But Nina didn’t care about the dust; she cared about the secrets they might hold. After dinner, she set out to find it, stepping into the cool night air, the stillness of the desert surrounding her like a thick, suffocating blanket. The village seemed asleep, with only the faintest sounds of nocturnal insects filling the air. As she walked through the narrow streets, she noticed the eerie silence had returned—the kind that made her feel like the world was holding its breath.
The library was tucked away in a corner of the village, a low stone building with a wooden sign above the door, barely visible in the dim light. Nina hesitated before knocking, but her need for answers outweighed her hesitation. She rapped on the door three times.
Kailash’s daughter, Leela, answered. She was no older than seventeen, with wide, curious eyes and an air of quiet intelligence. She greeted Nina with a warm, if somewhat guarded, smile. “I take it you’re looking for the books?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
Nina nodded, following Leela inside. The room was smaller than she expected, shelves lined with old, brittle books. The air smelled of mildew and dust, and the faint scent of dried herbs lingered in the corners. It felt like a place frozen in time.
Leela led Nina to a back shelf where several ancient tomes were kept. “These books have been passed down through generations,” she explained. “Some of them are so old, the writing is barely legible. But if you’re looking for the temple’s history, this is where you’ll find it.”
Nina scanned the spines of the books, her fingers brushing over the titles. One in particular caught her eye: “The Curse of Shivani Mata: The Untold Story”. The cover was faded and tattered, the title barely visible. It looked like it had been neglected for years, yet there was an undeniable pull to it. She pulled it from the shelf and began flipping through the pages.
The book was written in a mix of local dialect and Sanskrit, but Nina’s knowledge of ancient texts allowed her to decipher the words. As she read, her heart began to race. The stories were not like the ones she had heard before. This wasn’t a tale of a goddess who had been abandoned; it was the story of a betrayal, a curse, and a blood sacrifice.
According to the text, the temple had been built to honor Shivani Mata, a goddess who was once a powerful force of protection for the village. The temple was meant to maintain the balance between light and darkness, keeping the two forces in harmony. But the priests who served the goddess grew greedy and corrupt, seeking to use her power for their own gain. The people of the village, tired of the priests’ exploitation, revolted.
In the chaos of the uprising, the priests attempted a final ritual—a dark and forbidden one—to bind the goddess’s power to the land itself. But something went terribly wrong. Instead of controlling the goddess’s power, they unleashed it. In the aftermath, the temple was abandoned, and the village was left in ruins. But the curse didn’t end with the revolt. The ritual had bound the power of the goddess to the land—and to the souls of those who had dared to disturb her temple.
The book described the curse in chilling detail. It spoke of whispers in the wind, of visions of a woman in white, and of a silence that descended upon the land, choking out all life. Those who entered the temple would be marked by the curse, drawn to the altar where the ritual had been performed. Once marked, the soul was bound to the goddess’s vengeance.
Nina felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead as she read. She had felt the silence in the temple. She had heard the whispers. She had seen the woman in white.
The final page of the book described how to lift the curse—a ritual, but one that required a sacrifice. The person who performed the ritual would have to give up something precious—perhaps even their own life—to appease the goddess’s wrath and restore the balance. But the book warned that the ritual had only worked once, long ago, and even then, the curse had only been temporarily lifted. The temple, it seemed, was a place of unending suffering, a place where vengeance could never truly be satiated.
Nina’s hands trembled as she closed the book. The village was not just cursed—it was tethered to something ancient, something beyond human understanding. She had thought she was simply uncovering the history of a forgotten temple, but now she realized that she had unwittingly become part of its story. The silence, the whispers, the woman in white—they were all part of the curse that had been unleashed long ago.
She turned to Leela, who had been watching her quietly from the other side of the room. “Is this true?” Nina asked, her voice shaking. “The curse? The ritual?”
Leela nodded solemnly. “Yes. The stories have been passed down for generations. Some say the curse can’t be broken, that the land will never be free. Others say it can only be lifted by the blood of the one who disturbed the temple’s rest. That would be you, Nina.”
Nina’s blood ran cold. She had come here to uncover history. Now, she was caught in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
_
The night air was heavy with an eerie stillness as Nina walked back to the inn, the weight of the book’s revelations pressing on her chest like a vice. She had hoped the ancient tome would provide clarity, but all it had done was deepen the mystery—and the terror. The whispers in the temple, the strange marks on the altar, and the chilling voice that had called her name—all now seemed connected to the curse of Shivani Mata.
As she entered her room, Nina bolted the door behind her, casting a quick glance over her shoulder, half-expecting to see something—or someone—lurking in the shadows. The silence in the room was deafening. Outside, the wind began to pick up, rattling the windowpanes like fingers tapping against glass.
She had barely settled into her chair when a soft knock at the door startled her. She froze. No one ever came to her room at this hour. Her heart raced, and she hesitated before approaching the door.
“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her.
“It’s Leela,” came the soft response. “I need to speak with you.”
Nina sighed in relief and opened the door to find Leela standing there, her face pale and serious. The young woman’s usual calm demeanor was replaced with a look of quiet urgency.
“I’ve been waiting for you to return. There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should’ve said earlier,” Leela said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. Her eyes darted nervously to the window, as if making sure they were alone.
Nina gestured for her to sit, but Leela didn’t take a seat. Instead, she walked over to the small wooden chest in the corner of the room and opened it, revealing a bundle of worn, embroidered cloth.
Nina’s curiosity piqued, she leaned forward. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice low.
Leela hesitated, her fingers trembling as she unraveled the cloth. Inside was an old, intricately carved mask, faded with age and dirt. The design was unmistakable—a woman’s face, with delicate features, framed by a headdress that resembled a crown of feathers. But what made the mask truly unsettling were the eyes: hollow, dark, and seemingly endless.
“This mask belonged to Savitri,” Leela whispered, her voice barely audible. “The woman you’ve been seeing in your dreams… she was once a priestess at the temple. She was… sacrificed.”
Nina’s pulse quickened. She had seen the woman in white on several occasions now—the apparition who seemed to watch her from the edges of her vision. The woman’s form was always the same—draped in a flowing white saree, her hair cascading down in long, dark waves. Each time Nina had seen her, the woman’s expression had been sorrowful, almost pleading. But the whispers in the temple had warned her of a curse—of a vengeance that ran deep.
“Savitri?” Nina repeated, her voice trembling. “The woman I’ve seen—she’s the one who died at the temple?”
Leela nodded. “Yes. But there’s more to her story, Nina. Savitri wasn’t just a priestess—she was a lover, too. She loved one of the high priests, a man named Arjun. They were secretly in love, but their love was forbidden. When the revolt happened, it was Arjun who betrayed her. He was the one who led the villagers to destroy the temple, to kill the priests and tear down everything she had devoted her life to. In the chaos, she was sacrificed—her blood spilled to complete the ritual. But something went wrong, and her spirit was bound to the temple, to the land itself. And now, Nina… she’s calling you.”
Nina stared at the mask in Leela’s hands, her mind spinning. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, the silence more oppressive. She could feel the presence of something—or someone—watching her from the shadows.
“Savitri’s spirit never left,” Leela continued, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She can’t rest until the betrayal is avenged. She is angry, vengeful… and she’s been searching for someone to complete the ritual and set things right. You’re the one she’s chosen, Nina.”
The revelation hit Nina like a wave. The curse. The whispers. The woman in white. It was all true. She had walked into something far darker than she had ever imagined. But why her? Why had Savitri’s spirit chosen her? Was it because of her proximity to the temple? Or was there something more—something in her past that connected her to the ancient curse?
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Nina asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I didn’t know how,” Leela replied softly, placing the mask back in the chest. “I’ve lived with this my whole life, and I’ve seen the toll it takes. The curse doesn’t just affect the village—it affects everyone who comes near the temple. The longer you stay, the deeper you get tangled in the web. And Nina…” Leela’s voice faltered. “The longer you stay, the harder it is to escape.”
Nina was silent for a long moment, processing everything she had learned. The thought of leaving crossed her mind, but it was quickly replaced by a deeper sense of duty. She couldn’t leave now—not when she was so close to unraveling the truth.
“I don’t know what to do, Leela,” she admitted, her voice shaking with uncertainty. “How do I end this? How do I free myself from Savitri’s wrath?”
Leela’s expression grew serious. “There is one way, but it’s dangerous. You must return to the temple. The ritual—the one that went wrong—it must be completed, but not by the same means. You need to perform it in the right way, to restore balance. But be warned: the curse isn’t just about appeasing Savitri’s spirit. It’s about facing the darkness that still lingers, the darkness that wants to claim you.”
Nina swallowed hard. The temple was no longer just a ruin—it was a place of power, a place where forces beyond her comprehension were at play. And Savitri’s spirit was not the only thing she had to fear. The land itself, tainted by centuries of suffering, was alive with memories of betrayal, vengeance, and death.
The woman in white had chosen Nina for a reason. And now, it seemed, she had no choice but to confront the curse head-on, or become yet another soul lost to the desert winds.
_
Nina barely slept that night. The events of the evening had left her shaken, and her mind kept returning to Leela’s words: “The curse isn’t just about appeasing Savitri’s spirit. It’s about facing the darkness that still lingers, the darkness that wants to claim you.” The weight of the warning pressed heavily on her chest, but there was no escaping it now. The choice had been made. She had been pulled into the web of ancient forces that she could neither comprehend nor resist.
The next morning, she was back at the temple.
The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the desert, as Nina made her way through the sand. It seemed to take longer today, as if the path to the temple had stretched further and further away, forcing her to confront the distance between her and the fate she had no choice but to embrace. The silence that accompanied her steps was deafening, and the air was thick with the suffocating heat of the desert.
By the time she reached the temple, Nina could already feel the presence of something watching her. The ruins, once intimidating, now seemed like living entities, their stone faces cracked and broken by time but still exuding an undeniable power. She had come here seeking truth, but she had found only more questions—and a promise that the answers would come with a heavy price.
She stepped inside the temple’s main hall. The same oppressive silence surrounded her. There was no sound, no wind, no rustle of life. It was as though the world outside had ceased to exist.
As she ventured deeper into the temple, Nina felt an uncanny sensation creeping over her. The walls, adorned with murals of Shivani Mata, appeared to shift ever so slightly in the dim light. They seemed to watch her, their painted eyes following her every movement. Her heart raced, her breath shallow as she approached the altar where she had discovered the strange symbols the day before.
Something caught her attention—the floor was no longer covered in just sand and dust. There was a faint trail of fresh footprints, dark against the light brown of the stone, leading from the altar to the corner of the room. The footprints were small, delicate, but they didn’t seem human. They were… unnatural, as though something—or someone—had walked here in the dead of night, leaving no trace except for these footprints.
Nina’s pulse quickened. She bent down to inspect them, but before she could touch the floor, a voice rang out from behind her, sharp and demanding.
“You should not have come back.”
Nina spun around. For a moment, her vision blurred, and then she saw her—the woman in white, standing at the entrance of the temple.
Savitri.
Her face was pale, ethereal, her hair a flowing cascade of dark waves, and her body wrapped in a simple yet regal white saree that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. She looked like a figure drawn from the past, a spirit of grace and sorrow. The woman’s eyes were hauntingly beautiful, but beneath them lay an unmistakable sadness—a deep, unrelenting grief.
Nina opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She was frozen, rooted to the spot, as Savitri’s gaze seemed to pierce through her, deeper and deeper, until Nina felt as though she could see into her soul.
The spirit moved slowly toward her, her steps light as air, her presence filling the space with an overwhelming sense of both peace and terror. As she came closer, Nina could almost hear the faintest whispers—voices of the past, calling from beyond the veil.
“You are the one.” Savitri’s voice was low, almost sorrowful, but it carried an undeniable authority. “I have waited for so long… for someone to finish what was begun. You must understand, Nina. This temple… this land… it cannot be freed until the ritual is completed. Only then will the darkness be undone.”
Nina’s throat tightened, her mind swirling with confusion. “I—I don’t understand. What do you mean? What ritual? What darkness?”
Savitri’s ghostly form shimmered, her image flickering in and out, as though she were both present and distant at the same time. “The ritual that bound me to this place… that bound my soul to the earth. It was never completed, and so, I remain. Trapped in this prison of sand and stone, bound by the betrayal of the one I loved. He killed me, Nina. He led the villagers to destroy everything I had fought to protect. But it was his betrayal… my sacrifice… that set this curse into motion. The land is cursed, and I am cursed to roam it forever unless the ritual is finished.”
Nina’s hands trembled as she stepped closer, despite every instinct telling her to flee. She wanted to understand, to grasp the full weight of what Savitri was saying. “But why me?” she whispered. “Why did you choose me?”
Savitri paused, her gaze softening for a brief moment. “I did not choose you. The land did. It chose the one who would open the temple again, who would release the echoes of the past. You are the one who disturbed it, Nina. You are the one who has the power to finish the ritual.”
A sudden gust of wind swept through the temple, rustling the broken remnants of stone and dust. The temperature seemed to drop, and for the first time, Nina could feel the weight of something cold brushing against her skin—something far colder than the desert night.
“The ritual can only be completed by the one who came to disturb it. But the price is high.” Savitri’s voice grew colder, distant, as if she were speaking from far away. “To restore balance… to free the land from the curse… you must make a sacrifice, Nina. You must give of yourself… everything you hold dear. Only then can the land be freed.”
Nina’s chest tightened as her eyes filled with a sudden, terrible understanding. The curse was not just a matter of appeasing Savitri’s spirit. It was a bargain. The land demanded a price for its redemption, and that price was something more than Nina could ever imagine.
“There is no turning back.” Savitri’s voice echoed through the temple, growing fainter with each passing second. “Once you begin, you must finish. If you fail… the curse will consume you.”
The woman in white vanished as quickly as she had appeared, leaving Nina alone in the temple, her heart racing, her mind reeling.
Nina stood at the altar, the silence once again settling around her like a thick fog. She had been given a choice, but it wasn’t a choice at all. The ritual had already begun, and now, the only question was—could she find the strength to finish it before the darkness consumed her too?
_
Nina stood alone in the vast, crumbling temple, her heartbeat echoing through the silence. The presence of Savitri’s spirit still lingered in the air, heavy and unyielding. Every inch of the ancient structure seemed to hum with the energy of centuries of unfulfilled promise. The walls, the floor, even the wind outside—the entire temple had become a living, breathing thing, a monument to betrayal and the weight of a curse that refused to die.
Nina’s mind was a storm of confusion and fear. She had come to Kundalpur to uncover history, to piece together forgotten fragments of the past. Instead, she had become a part of it. The ritual Savitri spoke of—the ritual that had bound the land to the goddess’s wrath—was no longer an abstract concept. It was real, and it was now her responsibility to finish it.
The choice was not a choice at all.
The air in the temple felt dense, charged with an energy she couldn’t describe. Nina could almost hear the land itself whispering, urging her to take action. The curse had been started long ago, and now it demanded to be completed. But what would that mean for her? What price would she have to pay? What could she possibly sacrifice to lift the weight of a curse centuries in the making?
Shaking her head, she stepped toward the altar, where the markings—those strange, ancient symbols—had once glowed in the dim light. They were now faint, almost invisible in the dull interior, but Nina could still make out the shapes. A spiral. An eye. A circle that encased them all.
The echoes of the past were alive here, reverberating off the stone, carried on the wind. “The ritual requires a blood offering,” Savitri’s voice whispered in her mind, low and sorrowful. “Only through sacrifice can the land be freed from its torment.”
Nina’s stomach churned. She had never believed in superstition, never allowed herself to be swayed by folklore or ghost stories. But now she could feel the truth of it all—like a weight pressing on her chest, suffocating her thoughts.
She remembered the book, the final warning—a sacrifice must be made, but who would make it?
Trembling, Nina closed her eyes. The question wasn’t whether she would have to perform the ritual. She already knew that. It was a matter of how. How would she perform it? And more importantly—what would she have to give?
The breeze in the temple shifted, and with it, the air around her grew colder. She opened her eyes and looked toward the entrance, feeling as if something—or someone—was watching her. The feeling of being drawn into something she couldn’t escape surged within her, tightening her chest. And then, a figure appeared in the doorway.
It was Leela.
Nina hadn’t heard her approach, but the moment she saw the young woman, she felt a deep sense of both relief and foreboding. Leela’s face was pale, her eyes wide and fearful. She stepped forward, her movements slow, hesitant.
“Nina,” she said, her voice trembling. “You… you shouldn’t be here. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Nina swallowed, her throat dry. She had known this moment would come—the point when she could no longer deny the reality of the situation. “Leela, I have no choice. The ritual needs to be completed. The curse—it won’t end unless I do it.”
Leela shook her head, taking another step closer. “But you don’t understand the cost, Nina. The land may be free, but you will not be. The price isn’t just about blood—it’s your soul, Nina. Your life. Once the ritual is completed, there is no coming back.”
Nina’s chest tightened at Leela’s words, but she refused to back down. She had come this far. There was no turning back now.
“How can I break it?” Nina asked, her voice shaking with fear, yet determined. “How do I finish what was started?”
Leela’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’ve heard the stories, Nina. The stories of the ones who tried to perform the ritual, who thought they could lift the curse. They were lost. All of them. The land will take everything. There’s no way to stop it. You’ll become part of the curse yourself. You’ll remain here, in the desert, a shadow of what you once were. You’ll become… one of them.”
One of them.
The words struck Nina like a cold slap, but deep down, she knew the truth of it. There was no way to escape this. If she didn’t complete the ritual, the curse would only grow stronger, and she would never be free. And if she did complete it, she would sacrifice something more than just her life. She would lose herself—her very essence.
She took a step forward, her resolve hardening. “I don’t have a choice. The curse is tied to the land. To this place. To Shivani Mata. I need to finish it. I have to.”
Leela’s face contorted in agony, and for a moment, it seemed as though she might try to stop Nina, to pull her away from the altar. But she didn’t. Instead, she simply nodded, tears falling freely now. “I can’t stop you. But please… be careful. Don’t let the darkness consume you.”
With that, she stepped back, disappearing into the shadows of the temple. Nina stood there, alone again. She had no more time for hesitation. The ritual needed to be done. But as she stood before the altar, the symbols glowing faintly once more, the weight of the land’s history pressed down on her.
The silence was profound, stretching out like an eternity. Nina closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and began to recite the words she had found in the book. They were not in any language she recognized, but somehow, she understood them, felt them resonating deep within her.
The symbols on the floor glowed brighter, and the temperature in the room dropped sharply. Shadows flickered along the walls, their movements unnatural, as if alive. Nina’s heart pounded in her chest. Her hands trembled, but she continued, her voice gaining strength with every word.
Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet shook, and the temple seemed to groan in response. The air filled with a deep, hollow sound—almost like a distant cry. The wind howled through the cracks in the stone, the temperature plummeting further until Nina could see her breath in the frigid air. The curse had awoken, and it was demanding her sacrifice.
Nina reached into her bag and pulled out the small knife she had taken from her belongings. Her breath quickened as she held it aloft, the cold steel trembling in her hand. The ritual had to be completed. But the question lingered in her mind like a dark cloud—how much of herself could she truly give, before she lost everything?
_
The wind howled again, louder this time, as if the temple itself were awakening from a deep slumber. The earth beneath Nina’s feet trembled with the energy of the ritual, the very air heavy with anticipation. She stood before the altar, the knife gripped tightly in her trembling hand, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat of impending doom.
The shadows that had once merely flickered against the walls now seemed to move, alive, swirling and converging around her. The symbols on the floor pulsed, their ancient energy rekindling, casting eerie shadows that twisted in unnatural directions. The temple was no longer just a ruin; it was a living entity, bound by blood, sacrifice, and centuries of suffering. The darkness had awoken.
Nina’s breath came in short, ragged bursts as she steadied herself. She could feel the weight of the land pressing in on her, the eyes of the past watching, judging. It was as if the entire temple was holding its breath, waiting for her to make the final decision. To give or to die.
“The price is high,” Savitri’s voice echoed in her mind once more, a warning and a plea. “The land demands more than just blood, Nina. The darkness is not satisfied by just your sacrifice—it will take your essence. Your soul.”
Nina gripped the knife tighter, her knuckles white. She had read the warnings. She had heard the stories. Yet, as she stood there, in the heart of the temple, she realized that none of those warnings had prepared her for the truth. She wasn’t just completing the ritual to free the land from the curse. She was offering herself to it.
The ritual required a sacrifice, but it wasn’t simply a physical offering. It was a binding, a consuming. In exchange for the freedom of the land, she had to surrender a part of herself—her spirit, her identity, her very soul. There would be no return from this.
The weight of her decision threatened to crush her, but there was no turning back now. The land would never be free until the curse was lifted, and it had already claimed too many lives, too many souls. Nina had come here to learn, to understand the history of the temple. But now she realized that history was not something to be understood—it was something to be paid for.
Her gaze flicked to the shadows that seemed to reach for her, beckoning her into the darkness. The temple was alive with energy now—its ancient power pulling at her like an invisible force. She could feel it, taste it on the air—the curse, the darkness that had bound Savitri’s soul, the darkness that threatened to consume her if she hesitated.
With a trembling breath, Nina stepped forward, closer to the altar. The blade felt heavy in her hand, its cold surface burning against her palm. The wind howled louder, a deafening roar that seemed to echo from the very depths of the earth. It was now or never. She had to complete the ritual.
Her voice was a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a knife. “I offer myself. I offer my soul to you, Shivani Mata. I give of my being, so that the land may be freed.”
The words left her lips with a finality that made her stomach turn. The temple seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, everything was still.
Then, the altar began to glow, the symbols on the floor lighting up in a blaze of fiery red. The ground shook violently beneath her feet, and the air around her crackled with energy, charging the atmosphere with a terrifying force. The ritual was beginning.
Nina closed her eyes, her heart racing. The shadows around her surged forward, engulfing her in an inky darkness. The weight of the curse pressed down on her chest like a vice. She felt herself being pulled in, the darkness creeping closer, closer, until she was no longer sure where her body ended and the temple began.
“Savitri,” Nina whispered, her voice barely audible, as if speaking the name of the spirit could somehow guide her through the process. “I give you my soul. I free you, and the land. But take me not fully. I beg you…”
The wind rose to a deafening roar as the ground split beneath her feet. A voice, low and powerful, echoed through her mind.
“Your soul is mine, Nina. It has been claimed.”
Her body went rigid, her breath caught in her throat. The world around her spun wildly as if she were falling into an abyss. She could feel the darkness twisting around her, tearing at her, but she refused to surrender. She couldn’t give up completely. Not yet.
Her legs buckled, and she fell to her knees. The knife slipped from her hand, clattering on the stone floor, but she didn’t feel it. The shadows pulled at her, tugging her spirit from its vessel. She felt herself becoming weightless, as if her very essence was being pulled from her body. The pain was immense, a searing, aching emptiness that seemed to stretch on for eternity.
But in the distance, she saw a figure—Savitri.
The woman in white stood at the edge of the altar, her face both sorrowful and serene. Her dark eyes met Nina’s, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. The shadows froze. The wind ceased.
Savitri’s voice filled Nina’s mind, warm and gentle. “You have completed the ritual, Nina. You have freed the land, and you have freed me.”
Nina could feel herself being drawn toward the spirit, her body no longer able to resist. She felt a peace, a release, as if a weight had been lifted from her soul.
But Savitri’s gaze shifted, growing more intense. “You have given all, Nina. But your soul is not mine to take.”
Nina gasped, her heart pounding in her chest as her body trembled. “What…?”
Savitri’s expression softened, and she stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Nina’s forehead. “I cannot claim your soul, for it is already bound to the land. You are no longer part of the curse. You are its master. The land is free, and so are you. But remember, Nina… you will always be bound to this place. The land will call to you. And when it does, you must answer.”
The shadows that had once threatened to consume her began to recede, the darkness pulling back into the earth, leaving behind only the stillness of the temple. The curse had been lifted.
Nina collapsed, gasping for air, as if she had just surfaced from a long, drowning sleep. The pain was gone. The weight was gone. But the land had taken its toll.
She was free. But she was bound.
As the temple began to settle into silence, Nina looked up at the walls, the remnants of the goddess’s presence now fading into the shadows. She had completed the ritual. The curse was lifted. But her soul, her very being, was forever tied to the land she had freed.
And she knew that the land, no matter how far she went, would always call her back.
_
The silence in the temple was deafening. Nina sat on the cold, cracked stone floor, her heart still racing from the ritual. The air around her had shifted. The oppressive weight that had hung over the temple seemed to dissipate, but something remained. A presence—an invisible force that tugged at her, urging her to stay, to listen. The land had been freed, but in doing so, it had claimed her, bound her in ways she couldn’t fully understand.
Nina’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, the exhaustion of the ritual still weighing on her body. The temple was no longer just a ruin; it had become a part of her, a reflection of the curse that had been lifted and the sacrifice she had made. She had set things right, but in doing so, she had bound herself to the land that would forever call her back.
Her hands shook as she pushed herself to her feet, the stone floor beneath her cold against her skin. The echoes of Savitri’s voice still reverberated in her mind. “You are no longer part of the curse. You are its master.”
Nina stumbled toward the entrance, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and realization. The temple that had once felt like a prison now felt like a burden, a weight on her shoulders that she could not shake. But as she reached the door, something stopped her.
A whisper.
It wasn’t loud, but it was undeniable. It came from deep within the earth, from the cracks in the stone, from the very sands that stretched endlessly outside the temple. A voice, soft and beckoning. “Come to me.”
The words echoed in her mind, carrying the same eerie tone that had followed her from the moment she arrived in Kundalpur. The land was still alive, still calling to her.
Nina paused at the threshold, her hand resting on the stone frame. She could feel the call, like an invisible thread pulling her forward. It wasn’t just the temple anymore—it was the desert itself, the village, the land that had been freed from the curse. But in doing so, it had forged a new bond between Nina and the earth beneath her feet.
She stepped outside.
The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long, haunting shadows across the desert. The wind blew soft and steady, but there was something different in it now, something alive, like it carried the very heartbeat of the land with it.
Nina’s heart ached with the strange connection that now tethered her to this place. As she walked toward the village, the feeling grew stronger. The land was calling her. It wanted her to stay, to never leave.
She reached the village just as the last traces of sunlight faded behind the horizon. The houses were quiet, their mud walls cast in dark relief against the backdrop of the barren desert. But something was different—something was wrong. The people were no longer in the streets, no longer moving about. The place was eerily still.
Nina felt a sense of unease settle in her chest. Where was everyone?
She moved deeper into the village, her footsteps crunching on the sand. Her eyes flicked to the windows of the houses, but there was no sign of life. The silence felt unnatural, thick in the air, as if the land itself was holding its breath.
At the center of the village stood the old well, a deep, dark pit that had once been the lifeblood of the village. It was here that the curse had started. It was here that the first whispers of Shivani Mata had been heard, the first tremors of the land’s wrath. And now, it was here that Nina felt the pull the strongest.
“Come to me.”
The voice again, clearer this time, and this time it wasn’t just in her mind. The wind carried the words from the well itself. It was as if the earth were speaking, the very heart of the land calling her to it.
Nina approached the well, her steps hesitant. She didn’t know why, but she felt drawn to it, as if something in the depths of the earth beneath her feet needed her to come closer. She stood at the edge, staring into the blackness that seemed to stretch on forever. The darkness inside the well was absolute, but there was a glimmer—something faint, like the reflection of an eye—hovering just beneath the surface.
“You are bound to me now, Nina,” the voice whispered, more forceful this time. “You cannot escape.”
Nina stepped back, fear rising in her chest. She had completed the ritual. The curse was gone. She had freed the land. But now, it seemed as though the land itself had taken something from her. She had expected to leave, to return to her normal life. But that was no longer possible. She was part of the land, and the land would never let her go.
A cold chill ran down Nina’s spine as the earth trembled beneath her feet. The well’s depths seemed to grow wider, as though something was awakening, something deep within the land, something that had been waiting for Nina’s return. Her heart raced as the ground shook again, this time more violently, and the whisper turned into a screech.
“You will stay,” the voice bellowed, now echoing from all directions. “The land is yours, and you are its master. You are bound to me.”
Nina turned and ran, her breath quick and desperate. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew she had to leave. The village, the well, the land—they were calling her to stay, but she could no longer be a part of it. She had freed the land from the curse, but it had taken something of her in return. Her soul—her very being—was no longer hers to control.
As Nina raced through the darkened streets, the wind picked up, gusting around her like an invisible force. The land was angry, and it wasn’t about to let her go so easily.
She reached the edge of the village and stopped, looking back one last time at the place that had claimed her. The wind howled in response, carrying the voice of the earth with it.
“You are mine now, Nina. And you will always return to me.”
Nina’s heart beat painfully in her chest as she turned away and began to walk into the desert, away from the village, away from the land that had bound her. But she knew, deep down, that the land’s call would never truly fade. No matter how far she went, it would always pull at her—until the day she was forced to return.
End
