Kavya Patel
Chapter 1: The Legend of the Goddess
Rishikesh, a serene town nestled between the towering Himalayas and the sacred Ganges River, had always been a place of peace and spiritual tranquility. Pilgrims from all over the world arrived here seeking solace, meditating by the banks of the river, and performing rituals in the ancient temples scattered around the town. But hidden deep in the forested hills beyond the town was a secret that few dared to speak of—an ancient temple, home to a vengeful goddess, whose wrath was said to curse anyone who trespassed on her sacred grounds. The villagers knew of the dark legend but kept their distance, whispering their stories only in hushed tones around fires at night. It was a story passed down through generations, a warning for those who might stray too far from the known paths, for those who might dare seek adventure where none was meant to be found. The goddess, once revered, had turned into a specter of vengeance, and her temple, long abandoned, became a place of terror. To the locals, the dense forest surrounding the temple was a haunted place, where time itself seemed to stand still, and the air was thick with an ancient, oppressive force. No one ventured there. That is, until a group of friends—Dev, Aarti, Vikram, Maya, Rohit, and Simran—arrived in Rishikesh for their annual adventure. They were a curious and fearless bunch, always seeking the next thrill, the next challenge, and the next unexplored mystery. The talk of the village intrigued them, especially the notion of the cursed temple hidden deep in the forest. Vikram, the group’s most daring member, couldn’t resist the temptation to explore it. He laughed at the idea of a vengeful goddess and believed that it was nothing more than a myth, a story made to scare children and keep curious wanderers away. To him, the forest seemed like nothing more than an obstacle, a challenge waiting to be conquered. When he suggested to the group that they visit the temple, everyone except for Aarti hesitated. Aarti, always the one to listen to her intuition, felt a shiver of unease. There was something in the way the villagers spoke about the goddess, in the way the air seemed to hum with an ancient power, that made her uncomfortable. But her friends were insistent. Dev, ever the rational thinker, dismissed her concerns, chalking it up to the overactive imagination of someone who was too sensitive to the mystical stories of the area. Maya, the quiet one, seemed to know more about the goddess and her curse than she let on but said nothing, her eyes betraying a deep understanding. Rohit, with his protective instincts, warned against rushing in but ultimately followed the group’s decision. Simran, who had grown up in the area, was the only one who knew just how treacherous the forest could be, yet she remained silent, leading the way without a word of caution. The group gathered their backpacks, filled with supplies for a day of hiking, and set off at dawn, their excitement mingling with a growing sense of unease that none of them could shake off. They followed the well-worn paths for hours, leaving behind the familiar sight of the Ganges and the bustling town. The forest grew denser, the air thicker with the scent of moss and earth. The sun, which had been shining brightly when they began, now barely filtered through the heavy canopy above. The trees here were ancient, their trunks gnarled and twisted, their roots winding through the ground like the fingers of forgotten gods. As they hiked deeper into the woods, the sounds of the town faded away, replaced by the eerie silence of the forest, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant cry of a bird. Vikram, ever the optimist, cracked jokes to lighten the mood, but Aarti couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The deeper they ventured, the more the air seemed to grow colder. It wasn’t just the chill of the mountain breeze, but something more—a presence, an energy that seemed to watch them from the shadows. Aarti glanced nervously at the others, but they were too busy joking and teasing to notice the tension creeping up her spine. When they reached the clearing at the edge of the temple grounds, the forest opened up, and there, standing in the middle of the space, was the temple. It was old, its stone walls weathered by centuries of neglect, with vines creeping up the sides like creeping hands. The air was thick, heavy, almost suffocating. The temple loomed like a dark sentinel, its entrance inviting yet foreboding. Vikram, without a second thought, led the way toward the temple steps, but Aarti hesitated. Her heart raced, and she felt a cold sweat form on the back of her neck. She wanted to call it off, turn back before it was too late, but something kept her from speaking up. The legend, the warnings, all seemed so distant now, like echoes from another world. Little did they know, the moment they stepped onto the temple grounds, they had awakened something ancient and dangerous, something that had been lying dormant for centuries, waiting for the touch of the foolish. And with that first step, the curse was set in motion, and there was no turning back.
Chapter 2: The Path Into the Forest
The sun had risen high, casting a golden hue over the dense forest as the group continued their trek deeper into the heart of the wilderness. The sounds of the bustling town of Rishikesh grew fainter with each step, replaced by the eerie rustle of leaves and the soft whispers of the wind, as if the forest itself was murmuring ancient secrets. Vikram led the group, his footsteps confident, his camera ready to capture every moment of their journey. “This is going to be epic,” he grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Dev followed closely behind, checking his map every few minutes, more out of habit than necessity. His logical mind couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off, but he brushed it aside, telling himself it was just the natural tension of venturing into the unknown. Aarti walked a little slower, her eyes scanning the trees, the shadows, and the faint shapes that seemed to dart just beyond her vision. She could feel the forest closing in around them, its vastness and quiet heaviness pressing down on her. Her instincts, usually so sharp, told her they were crossing a line—one that shouldn’t be crossed. But she kept her silence, unwilling to dampen the excitement of the others, though she couldn’t shake the dread that gnawed at her gut. Maya, ever observant, walked beside her, her presence quiet and steady. She hadn’t spoken much since they began their journey, but Aarti noticed the way her eyes flitted nervously toward the towering trees. There was something in her gaze—something deeper than the curiosity of an adventurer. It was almost as if she knew something that the others didn’t, but Maya remained silent, her thoughts hidden behind the calm mask she wore. Rohit, walking at the rear, was constantly checking over his shoulder. His protective instincts were on high alert, not just for the group, but also for Aarti. He had noticed how she had been slower than the others, how her unease had grown since they entered the forest. “You okay?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light. Aarti nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, just… tired.” She wasn’t fine, but she didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to be the one to stop this adventure. Simran, however, seemed to be in her own world, barely interacting with anyone. Her pace was slower, as if she was waiting for something—or perhaps trying to sense something. Every so often, she would pause, close her eyes, and breathe deeply, as though attuning herself to the heartbeat of the forest itself. Aarti couldn’t help but wonder if Simran had some deeper connection to this place, but the questions remained unspoken. The further they ventured, the more the atmosphere seemed to shift. The air grew thick, damp, and heavy, the oppressive silence making every step seem louder than it was. Even Vikram’s playful banter seemed to fade as they pressed on. The forest was thick with overgrown vines and towering trees, their trunks twisted and knotted as if trying to keep the outside world at bay. The path they followed was barely discernible now, lost to the tangled undergrowth and the sheer age of the forest. The sunlight that had once bathed them in warmth now struggled to penetrate the dense canopy above. It was as if the forest itself was closing in around them, darkening with every step, swallowing the light and the sound. The further they went, the more Aarti felt the weight of the place bearing down on them. She could feel the air grow colder, the temperature dropping with each passing moment. Her breath started to come in short, shallow gasps, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something was wrong—she could feel it. The whispers of the forest grew louder, and yet when she tried to listen closely, they were gone, only to be replaced by the sound of her own heartbeat. Every now and then, a chill breeze would sweep through the trees, and for a moment, Aarti could have sworn she saw a shadow flicker in the corner of her eye. But when she turned her head, there was nothing there—just the stillness of the trees. As they neared the heart of the forest, the path began to wind and twist, becoming less defined. The group had to weave their way through the dense underbrush, stepping over fallen branches and ducking under vines. A sudden cry from Vikram broke the silence. “Hey, check this out!” he called, pointing ahead. The others gathered around him, their curiosity piqued. Before them stood a massive tree, its trunk wider than any they had seen before, its roots sprawling out like a maze. At the base of the tree, a large stone was embedded in the earth, its surface covered with strange symbols—symbols Aarti had never seen before. The markings were worn with age, but there was no mistaking the intricate designs that seemed to swirl around the stone like a web. “What is this?” Maya whispered, her voice unusually tense. “I don’t know,” Vikram replied, crouching to get a closer look. “But it looks like it’s part of the temple. We must be getting close.” The group exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke up. The forest had grown quieter now, the usual sounds of birds and animals seemingly absent. Aarti’s unease only deepened, and she felt a pull toward the stone, almost as if it was calling her. “Let’s keep moving,” Dev finally said, his voice breaking the tension. “We’re not far from the temple now.” But Aarti couldn’t shake the feeling that they had crossed a threshold, that something had shifted in the very fabric of the forest. The feeling of being watched grew stronger, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Whatever force was at play here, it was not just the legend of an angry goddess—it was something much older, much more powerful. They were not alone.
Chapter 3: The First Hallucination
The temple came into view just as the forest seemed to change its mood completely. The trees opened up, revealing a clearing where the temple stood—its ancient stones covered in moss, and its towering structure seemingly untouched by time. The air around it was thick, as though the temple itself exhaled a sense of dread and ancient power. The entrance, framed by two massive stone pillars, was dark, like a mouth ready to swallow them whole. Vikram, ever the adventurer, was the first to approach, his footsteps quick and eager. “This is it,” he said, turning to the group with a triumphant grin. “The Temple of the Goddess. I knew we’d find it.” The others stood still for a moment, hesitating. Aarti, though still shaken by the dense forest they had just passed through, felt a cold shiver run down her spine. There was something unnervingly silent about this place, something that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She glanced at Maya, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the hike. Her face, usually so composed, seemed pale, her lips pressed tightly together as if suppressing a secret. “This place… it feels wrong,” Aarti whispered to her, though she didn’t know why she felt that way. Maya didn’t answer, but her eyes briefly flickered to the temple, her expression unreadable. The group gathered around the entrance, and despite Aarti’s growing unease, they all moved forward together, crossing the threshold into the temple grounds. As soon as they stepped past the entrance, the temperature seemed to drop. The air felt heavier, more oppressive, like the walls themselves were closing in on them. The sun, which had been blazing down moments ago, seemed to lose its strength, and an eerie twilight overtook the clearing. Vikram, undeterred, marched up the stone steps with his camera raised high. “This place is incredible,” he muttered, snapping photos. “I can’t wait to get the full history of this place on tape.” His voice echoed unnaturally, reverberating off the walls of the temple, and for a split second, Aarti thought she heard something else—a low, almost imperceptible hum, like a distant chant. She turned to Maya again, but Maya’s eyes were closed, her face tight in concentration. It was then that Aarti realized that Maya was no longer merely looking at the temple; she was feeling it. It was as if she was communing with the space around them, tuning into something beyond the physical world. “Maya?” Aarti asked quietly. “Are you okay?” Maya opened her eyes slowly, and for a moment, there was something in her gaze that made Aarti’s stomach churn. “There’s a presence here,” Maya replied softly. “We should have never come.” Before Aarti could respond, the ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble lightly. It wasn’t an earthquake; it was more like the earth itself was breathing, pulsing with a rhythm of its own. The trees surrounding the temple began to sway, though there was no wind. The forest seemed to move with a strange life of its own. Aarti’s pulse quickened. “We need to leave,” she urged, taking a step backward, but as she turned toward the path, her vision blurred. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and the world around her seemed to shift. Her heart raced as the temple around them seemed to distort, the walls elongating, the sky darkening. Suddenly, she was standing in a vast, shadowy hall, its walls covered with strange carvings. The floor beneath her feet was cold and made of stone that seemed ancient beyond belief. She could hear soft whispers, the voices of people calling her name, murmuring in a language she didn’t understand. Her breath caught in her throat, and she tried to move, but her feet felt heavy, as though they were anchored to the stone floor. “Aarti…” a voice whispered. She turned sharply, and there, in the dim light, she saw a figure—tall, dressed in flowing robes, with a face obscured by shadows. The figure stepped toward her, and as it came into the light, she could see its eyes—glowing with a faint, supernatural light. It smiled, but the smile was cold, empty. “You should not be here,” it said. “You will never leave.” Aarti’s blood ran cold. She stumbled backward, but the figure’s presence grew stronger, closer. The whispers grew louder, now a chorus of voices. She could see them now—figures emerging from the shadows, faces twisted with rage and pain, their eyes hollow and searching. They were coming for her. She wanted to scream, to run, but her voice failed her. Her heart pounded in her chest as the figures circled around her. And just as she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, she heard a loud crash. The world around her fragmented, shattered like glass, and the temple’s walls crumbled into dust. The next moment, she was back outside, standing in the clearing, gasping for air. The group had gathered around her, looking concerned, but none of them seemed to have noticed what had just happened. “Aarti? Are you okay?” Vikram’s voice cut through the haze. Aarti blinked rapidly, her vision still blurry. Her heart was still pounding, and she could feel a cold sweat clinging to her skin. “I… I’m fine,” she stammered, though she knew deep down that something had just happened. She had seen it. She had felt it. There was something in the temple—something ancient, something evil. “We need to go,” she said, her voice trembling. “We need to leave now.” But Vikram only laughed. “You’re just seeing things. This place is amazing. I’m going inside.” Before Aarti could protest, he was already heading for the temple steps. The others hesitated for a moment, but Aarti’s warning went unheeded. They followed Vikram, and the group slowly began to disperse. Aarti stood frozen in place, her mind racing. She couldn’t explain what had happened, what she had seen, but she knew one thing for sure: they had awoken something. The goddess was real. And she was watching them.
Chapter 4: Disappearance
The air inside the temple felt different. As soon as Vikram crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted, becoming heavier, colder. The stone walls loomed around them, dark and ancient, etched with faded symbols and runes. The temple, once a place of reverence, now seemed like a hollow shell—a tomb for long-forgotten gods. Vikram was already halfway up the steps leading to the altar, his camera capturing every detail of the darkened interior. “This is it,” he said, his voice echoing through the vast space. “This is where it all began.” The rest of the group hesitated at the entrance, uncertain. Aarti stayed at the back, still feeling the echo of the hallucination that had gripped her moments earlier. Her hands were clammy, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls of the temple were closing in on them. Maya was silent, her eyes scanning the room, her fingers twitching nervously. She seemed on edge, as if expecting something to happen, something that she knew but couldn’t yet explain. Simran, too, was unnervingly still, her gaze unfocused as she whispered under her breath, her lips barely moving. Rohit stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking in. “We shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, glancing around the temple with growing concern. “There’s something… wrong about this place.” But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Vikram, ever the enthusiast, grinned and waved them forward. “Come on, don’t be such scaredy-cats,” he called out, his voice growing distant as he ventured deeper into the temple. Aarti exchanged a worried glance with Rohit, but Vikram’s reckless confidence seemed to convince everyone else to follow him. They slowly made their way inside, stepping cautiously over the ancient stone floors that were slick with dust and centuries of neglect. The low, flickering light from their torches cast long shadows on the walls, which seemed to stretch and warp in the dim light. The further they ventured, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The heavy silence weighed on them like a thick fog, broken only by the faint, echoing sound of their footsteps. As they reached the center of the temple, they found themselves in front of a massive stone altar, adorned with strange carvings. The air grew colder still, and Aarti’s breath became shallow, her chest tightening as if the very air was choking her. Vikram, who had been leading the charge, stood at the altar, staring down at the intricate patterns carved into the stone. “This is incredible,” he said, kneeling to get a closer look. “These carvings—they’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” His voice was a mix of awe and excitement, but there was an undertone of unease creeping into his words. He reached out to touch the stone, but before his fingers could make contact, a low, rumbling sound filled the temple. It was deep, vibrating through the floor and into their bones. The ground beneath their feet seemed to shake. For a moment, everything stopped—the temple, the air, the very earth itself. Then, without warning, the doors to the temple slammed shut with a deafening bang, sending an echo that reverberated through the halls. The group froze. “What the hell was that?” Vikram exclaimed, standing up quickly and looking around, his eyes wide with panic. The others exchanged nervous glances, their hearts racing. The temperature inside the temple had dropped drastically, and the air felt suffocating. “We need to get out of here,” Rohit said, his voice tight with fear. He turned to face the entrance, but when he reached for the doors, he froze. They were locked. No matter how hard he pulled on the handles, the doors wouldn’t budge. It was as if they were sealed shut by some unseen force. Aarti felt her pulse quicken. The sense of dread that had been gnawing at her since they first stepped into the temple was now overpowering, almost suffocating. She could feel it—something in the air, something dark, watching them. “We need to leave, now,” she repeated, her voice trembling. But Vikram was already moving, his camera still in hand, trying to document every moment. “We’re fine,” he insisted, though his voice wavered slightly. “It’s just the structure settling, or maybe an aftershock. Nothing to worry about.” But Aarti wasn’t so sure. She glanced at Maya, who was standing motionless, her eyes locked onto the altar, her face pale and drawn. “Maya?” Aarti asked, stepping toward her. “What’s going on? What do you feel?” Maya slowly turned to her, and for the first time, Aarti saw true fear in her eyes. “We’ve awakened something,” Maya whispered. “It’s angry. And it’s not going to let us leave.” Before Aarti could respond, Vikram, still oblivious to the mounting danger, began to make his way up the steps to the altar, his eyes fixed on the strange carvings. He was drawn to it, as if something was pulling him in. The others watched him warily, but no one moved to stop him. Then, without warning, a loud crack split the air. Vikram stumbled, his foot slipping on the stone steps. Aarti’s breath caught in her throat as he tumbled forward, disappearing into the shadows at the base of the altar. “Vikram!” Rohit shouted, rushing toward him, but the moment he reached the bottom of the steps, he froze. Vikram was gone. The space around the altar, which had been empty just moments before, was now eerily silent. There was no trace of Vikram. No sign of him anywhere. The others stood frozen in shock, their eyes scanning the darkened corners of the temple, searching for any sign of their friend. “Where did he go?” Simran whispered, her voice barely audible. “He was right here…” The air was thick with fear, and the oppressive silence was broken only by their ragged breaths. They called out for Vikram, but the temple offered no answers. It was as if the walls themselves had swallowed him whole. Panic set in. “This isn’t real,” Dev muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “This can’t be happening.” But deep down, they all knew the truth. Vikram had vanished, and whatever force haunted this place had claimed its first victim. The curse had been awakened, and none of them knew how far it would go.
Chapter 5: The Curse Awakens
The temple, once a place of quiet reverence, now felt like a tomb, its stone walls closing in around them. The group was in a state of shock, frozen in place as they tried to process what had just happened. Vikram, their fearless leader and adventurer, had disappeared without a trace. The altar, which had once seemed like nothing more than an interesting artifact, now loomed before them like a dark sentinel, its cold, stone surface betraying no hint of what lay beneath. Aarti’s heart pounded in her chest, the fear bubbling up from the pit of her stomach. She felt as though the very air around her had thickened, choking her with its weight. “We need to get out,” Rohit said, his voice tight, the panic evident in his eyes. “Now.” He grabbed at the door again, pulling with all his strength, but the doors were still sealed shut, refusing to open. Aarti could feel it, the sensation that something was watching them, lurking just beyond the corners of the room. She could hear the faint whispers, like voices carried by the wind, just out of reach. They weren’t loud enough to make sense of, but they were there—an ever-present hum in the air that seemed to reverberate within her very bones. Maya, still standing by the altar, had not moved. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed as though she was listening to something far deeper than the surface. “Maya?” Aarti called softly, but Maya didn’t respond. Simran stepped up to her, her expression unreadable. “She’s trying to sense it,” Simran said, her voice low, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “The presence here is strong. It’s ancient.” “What do you mean, ‘sense it’?” Rohit asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. “What’s happening to us? Where’s Vikram?” “The temple is awakening,” Simran replied, her eyes flickering to the dark corners of the room. “The curse is real. It’s not just a legend.” The weight of her words hit them all like a brick. The curse. The whispers. The shadows. It had never been a myth. It had never been a warning. It was a reality, and they were now part of it. Aarti’s hands trembled as she clutched the strap of her backpack. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the temple was alive, that it was watching them, waiting. And then, as if to prove her thoughts, a loud, low rumble filled the air. The ground beneath their feet seemed to shake, and for a brief moment, Aarti was sure the entire temple was going to collapse around them. But when the rumbling stopped, the temple seemed eerily still, like a predator waiting for its next victim. A soft whisper broke the silence. Aarti turned, her eyes darting to the shadows. It was the same whisper she had heard earlier—soft, distant, and yet unmistakably clear. “Leave… before it’s too late.” The voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an authority that chilled her to the core. “Did you hear that?” Aarti asked, her voice cracking. “It’s her,” Simran murmured, her voice distant. “The goddess. She’s speaking.” The group went silent, each of them trying to process what was happening. The feeling in the air grew heavier, the whispers more frequent. They were no longer just a faint hum—they were words, clear and direct, calling to them, urging them to leave. But it was too late. The presence in the temple was undeniable, a force too powerful to ignore. Aarti felt herself pulled toward the altar, her feet moving against her will, as though some invisible force had latched onto her soul. She tried to resist, but the pull was too strong. She glanced back at the others, but they, too, seemed to be in a trance, their eyes unfocused and distant. Simran was the first to break free, stepping forward and gripping Aarti’s arm tightly. “Don’t listen to it,” she whispered urgently. “This is what it wants. It’s trying to control you.” Aarti blinked rapidly, her head spinning. The whispers had grown louder, more insistent. The goddess, in her rage, was awakening fully now. And she was hungry. “We need to leave,” Rohit repeated, his voice shaking with fear. He was no longer trying the door, knowing it would not open. Instead, he looked to the others, his eyes wide. “We can’t stay here. We have to get out.” But the temple had other plans. The stone altar began to crack, the lines in the carvings twisting and shifting as if the stone itself was alive, reacting to the presence of the goddess. The temperature dropped further, and Aarti felt a cold wind sweep through the room, though there was no visible source. It was the breath of the goddess, cold and oppressive, seeping through the very walls of the temple. The candles, which had been flickering weakly at the altar, suddenly burst into flames, their orange glow casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls. For a moment, everything felt suspended in time. The air was thick, heavy with anticipation, as if the temple itself was holding its breath. And then, suddenly, the floor beneath their feet cracked open. The sound was deafening, like a roar from the earth itself. The crack widened, revealing a deep chasm beneath them—dark, empty, as though it led to the depths of the underworld itself. And from the depths of that chasm, something rose. The shadowy figure of a woman, tall and veiled in robes of darkness, emerged. Her eyes glowed like embers, fierce and burning, and her mouth was stretched in an eerie smile. A chill ran through Aarti’s spine, and she stumbled backward, her breath catching in her throat. “You should not have come.” The goddess’s voice rang out, deep and unearthly. “Now you will all pay the price.” With a sudden motion, the shadowy figure reached out, her hand extended toward them. The ground trembled again, and Aarti saw the others move, but it was too late. The temple was alive with the power of the goddess, and they were caught in her grasp. Desperation filled the air as the group scrambled for escape, but the walls seemed to close in on them, the dark figure of the goddess looming larger as they were drawn deeper into her trap. The curse had awakened fully now, and they were powerless to stop it. One by one, the shadows reached for them, and the fate of the group hung in the balance.
Chapter 6: The Whispering Forest
The temple was no longer just a place—it had become a living nightmare. The dark figure of the goddess towered over them, her form shifting and writhing like smoke. Her eyes burned with the fury of centuries, and the very air around her felt alive with malevolent energy. Aarti’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as she stumbled backward, away from the outstretched hand that reached toward her, her feet moving instinctively despite the overwhelming fear. She felt the pull of the goddess’s gaze like an iron chain around her soul. The whispers were louder now—each word a promise of something dark, something that would swallow them whole. “Leave… while you still can…” The voice echoed in Aarti’s mind, and she clutched her head, fighting to keep her thoughts intact. The others were in disarray, some screaming, some frozen in place, but none of them could move fast enough to escape the power that was tightening around them. Simran, who had remained eerily calm until now, stepped forward, her face drawn with deep sorrow. “We’ve awakened her. There’s no going back now.” The goddess laughed, a low, guttural sound that reverberated through the temple, rattling their bones. “Foolish mortals…” Her voice was sharp like a blade, cutting through the air. “You cannot leave now. You will suffer as I have suffered, trapped within these walls for eternity.” As if to punctuate her words, the ground beneath them trembled once again. The temple, the very earth, seemed to be shaking with the goddess’s fury. A crack ran through the floor, splitting the stone open, and a torrent of shadows poured out, coiling around their feet like tendrils, pulling them down toward the abyss below. Aarti’s breath came in sharp gasps. She turned toward the door, but the way they had come in was now completely blocked. The entrance had vanished into a wall of dense, black fog, the air thick with dark energy. It was as though the temple had sealed itself shut, trapping them within its cursed walls. The shadows of the temple seemed to be alive, crawling up the walls and hanging from the ceiling like living creatures, their eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. The whispers grew louder, surrounding them, burrowing into their minds. Aarti’s pulse raced. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. The shadows were everywhere, creeping closer, and the oppressive presence of the goddess pressed down on them like a vice. In a desperate attempt to break free from the nightmare, she turned to Simran. “Simran, you know something! What do we do? How do we stop this?” Simran’s face was pale, her eyes hollow, as though she were staring into some distant, unimaginable horror. “I… I was once a priestess here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the growing chaos. “I… I was part of the ritual that sealed her away.” Aarti’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” she gasped, barely able to comprehend what Simran was saying. “You—what are you talking about?” Simran’s gaze shifted to the altar, where the goddess stood, her figure growing ever larger, her presence suffocating. “This temple… it was built to imprison her,” Simran continued, her words slow and heavy with regret. “She was a goddess of vengeance, but she grew too powerful. Her thirst for blood, her rage—it was unbearable. The people who built this temple, the ones who sealed her away, they sacrificed themselves to trap her here. It was the only way. They knew that the temple would eventually call to those foolish enough to enter. And now… now it’s too late.” Aarti’s mind spun, her breath quickening. “No… there has to be a way out. We can’t just be her prisoners forever.” But Simran shook her head slowly. “There is no escape, Aarti. We have only one option left.” Aarti’s voice shook with urgency. “What is it? Tell me!” Simran met her gaze, her expression filled with sorrow. “We must offer a sacrifice. It’s the only way to appease her. The blood of the living is the price for freedom.” Aarti recoiled, her stomach turning at the thought. “No! I won’t let anyone die. There has to be another way.” But Simran’s eyes were resolute, her expression unwavering. “The curse was never meant to be broken, Aarti. The goddess… she feeds on fear, on anguish. The more desperate we become, the stronger she gets. There is no running from her. The only way to end this is to give her what she demands.” As Simran spoke, the temple itself seemed to respond. The shadows writhed and hissed, the whispers growing louder until they drowned out every other sound. The goddess’s presence enveloped them entirely. “You will be mine…” she intoned, her voice now like a thunderclap. “Your soul is the price, your sacrifice, your fate.” The shadows surged forward, the darkness closing in like a living thing. Aarti backed away, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the cold tendrils of the shadows wrapping around her ankles, pulling her down, but she fought, struggling to stay upright. Her thoughts raced. Simran’s words echoed in her mind—sacrifice. The goddess demanded it. And though the thought of giving in to such a terrible fate filled her with revulsion, she knew that without it, they were all doomed. The curse, which had been dormant for so long, was now fully awake, and it wouldn’t let them go. It was a terrifying truth, but it was the only truth that remained. Aarti turned to face the others—Rohit, Maya, and Dev—each of them caught in their own battle against the dark force that was consuming the temple. Their faces were pale with fear, their eyes wide and filled with panic. The air was thick with dread, and the shadows were closing in. Aarti looked back at Simran, who had already moved toward the altar. “There’s only one way out,” Simran whispered, her voice barely audible above the cacophony of whispers. “We have to offer someone to the goddess. It will either be one of us… or all of us.” Aarti’s breath caught in her throat. The words hung in the air like an unspoken sentence. The curse had come alive, and now they had to pay the price.
Chapter 7: The Choice of Sacrifice
The shadows swirled around them like a living storm, each tendril of darkness creeping closer, trying to pull them into the deep abyss beneath the temple. The air was thick with a crushing pressure, as though the temple itself was suffocating them, and the whispers grew louder, sharper—more insistent. The presence of the goddess was everywhere. Her power seeped through the very stones, filling every corner of the room, wrapping itself around their bodies like cold chains.
Aarti’s heart raced. The weight of Simran’s words hung heavily in the air. “We have to offer someone,” she had said. “It will either be one of us… or all of us.”
The thought was unbearable, and yet, in that moment, Aarti realized that there was no way out of the temple without paying the price. The goddess was hungry for blood, for vengeance, and she would not release them until she had it. Aarti’s mind spun, her pulse pounding in her ears. Could they truly escape this nightmare without sacrificing someone? Could they truly leave without paying the toll?
She looked to her friends—Rohit, Maya, and Dev. Each of them was struggling against the shadows that seemed to be dragging them down, but they were also paralyzed by the weight of the curse, caught between survival and something darker.
Rohit, always the protector, was still trying to pull at the door, his strength futile against the power of the goddess. His face was pale, but there was a fire in his eyes, the same fire that had kept him fighting all this time. Maya stood slightly apart, her body trembling, but her eyes were locked onto the altar. The goddess’s presence seemed to pull her in, a silent call that spoke to something deep inside her. And Dev, ever the skeptic, was shaking his head, his disbelief evident, but his fear was palpable. It was clear to Aarti that no one had any idea what to do. They were all trapped—by the curse, by the goddess, and by the choices they were now forced to make.
Aarti felt a heavy, bone-chilling hand close around her heart. She turned to Simran, who was already kneeling before the altar, her head bowed. “You know what we have to do,” Simran said quietly, her voice resigned. “I… I can’t. I can’t sacrifice any of you.”
But Simran’s words seemed to ring hollow in the vast, echoing temple. The goddess’s presence grew stronger, her voice rising above the whispers, now like a chorus of gods and demons. “You are all fools. There is no escape. You must choose.”
Aarti’s throat tightened. Her mind screamed for an answer, a way out. Was there another way? Was there a chance, a shred of hope? But the shadows that clawed at her skin, the biting cold that seemed to freeze her very soul, told her otherwise.
“Maya,” Aarti whispered, her voice almost breaking. “You… you were here before. You said you knew how to appease her. Can’t you—?”
But Maya didn’t answer. Her eyes, once so bright with life, were now glassy, distant. She was staring at the altar, entranced, as if the goddess was calling her. Aarti could see it in her eyes—the pull of something dark, something dangerous, and in that moment, Aarti understood. Maya was ready to give herself up.
“No,” Aarti said, stepping toward Maya. “No, you don’t have to. Don’t let her—”
Maya turned slowly, her face expressionless, her lips barely moving as she spoke, “I can’t stop it, Aarti. I—I can feel her. She’s already inside me.”
The words sent a cold shock through Aarti’s body. She reached for Maya, but Maya pulled back, her eyes locked onto the altar as though the goddess were pulling her into an embrace she couldn’t resist.
“Maya…” Aarti whispered. “Don’t do this. Please.”
But Maya stepped forward, her feet moving on their own, drawn to the altar like a moth to a flame. Aarti reached out, her hand desperately grasping at Maya’s arm, but Maya jerked away, her movements unnatural, like she was being controlled.
“Maya!” Aarti screamed, but it was too late.
The shadows surrounded Maya like a tidal wave, and as her body was consumed by the darkness, Aarti saw something in her eyes—a spark of recognition, of understanding. It was as though she had become one with the goddess. Maya’s body collapsed to the ground, her breath shallow, her face twisted in pain, but then, a strange calmness overtook her. The goddess had claimed her.
“Maya…” Aarti whispered, her voice breaking.
Simran stepped forward slowly, her face pale but resolute. “She did what she had to do. She gave herself to the goddess to protect the rest of us.”
Aarti couldn’t speak. The weight of Maya’s sacrifice crushed her, pressing down on her chest like a thousand stones. Was this the only way? Was this really the price they had to pay?
For a long moment, the temple was silent. The shadows, once swirling in frenzy, paused, as if waiting for something. Aarti looked at the altar, where the goddess’s presence had now faded, leaving behind a hollow, suffocating stillness. It was done.
But Aarti knew better than to think they were safe. The goddess wasn’t satisfied—she wasn’t done yet. And as long as the curse remained, the temple would never release them.
The curse had claimed one of them. And the darkness was far from finished.
Simran stood, her face drawn with grief. “There is nothing left but to leave,” she said quietly, as though speaking to herself. “The goddess will not be satisfied forever. She will always come for more.”
Aarti turned to her friends, her eyes haunted, her heart heavy. They were all still trapped in the temple, but they had made a choice. Maya’s sacrifice had bought them a brief reprieve, but they knew that the darkness would never let them go.
And soon, the temple would call for another soul.
Chapter 8: The Blood Moon
The silence in the temple was suffocating. Even the whispers had faded, as if the air itself was holding its breath. The shadows that had once seemed so alive now appeared still and lifeless, as though they were waiting for something—or someone—to give them life again. Maya’s sacrifice hung in the air like an unspoken curse, and Aarti felt it in her bones—the cold, unrelenting pressure that the goddess was not done with them yet.
The group had gathered around the altar, staring at the empty space where Maya had fallen, her body now a shadow in the darkened room. The goddess’s presence lingered, like a heavy fog, but the altar was quiet—still. They had not escaped, not yet. Not truly.
Aarti felt a shudder run through her, a cold sweat on her brow. Her eyes were bloodshot from the tension, her mind clouded with guilt, anger, and fear. “What now?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “What are we supposed to do now?”
Rohit, his face pale but his resolve hardening, stepped forward, shaking his head. “We can’t just stand here. We can’t let Maya’s death be in vain. We need to find a way to destroy this temple—destroy the curse. Whatever it takes.”
Simran, her face still pale from the weight of what had happened, nodded slowly. “He’s right. But the curse won’t let us go until it’s done. Until it’s finished.”
Aarti turned to her, her heart in her throat. “What do you mean? Finished? Does that mean more of us have to die?”
Simran didn’t meet her gaze. “It’s not about death anymore,” she said softly. “It’s about the blood that was spilled. The goddess can’t be stopped with mere offerings. She’s a force of nature—older than the temple, older than the rituals that once contained her. We may have lost Maya, but the temple won’t stop until it has all of us.”
“What do we do?” Aarti asked, her voice desperate, shaking with emotion. She had never felt more powerless in her life.
Simran closed her eyes, her face twisted in sorrow. “We need to end it. We need to break the seal that binds her to this world.”
The words sent a chill down Aarti’s spine. “Break the seal?” she whispered. “How?”
Simran shook her head, her lips trembling. “I don’t know. But I know the answer lies outside—beyond the temple.”
The room seemed to pulse around them as if the walls themselves were listening. Aarti felt the weight of the goddess’s eyes on her, even if she couldn’t see them. The presence was too strong, too oppressive.
Suddenly, the floor beneath them trembled again, sending a wave of fear through the group. The air grew colder, and the shadows seemed to writhe once more, stretching toward them like hungry hands.
Aarti spun around, her eyes widening in horror. “It’s her,” she gasped. “She’s coming. She’s coming back!”
The altar began to shake violently, the stone cracking as the shadows pulled toward it, gathering at its base. The walls of the temple moaned, as if they were alive, being pulled into a dark void. In an instant, the room was plunged into darkness, the torches flickering and dying out. The only light that remained was a faint, eerie glow coming from the cracks in the altar—pulsing like a heartbeat.
“You should not have come,” the goddess’s voice rang out, the sound both within their minds and in the very air around them. It was deep, resonating, the voice of something ancient and powerful. “You cannot escape me. No one leaves. Not without my blessing.”
Aarti’s body froze, her blood running cold. There was no escape, no way to outrun this presence. The goddess was waking again, growing stronger with each passing moment.
“No…” Aarti whispered, her voice shaking. “Please…”
Rohit stepped forward, his fists clenched, his face set with determination. “We can’t just give up. We have to try. We have to do something—before it’s too late.”
Simran, her face pale, shook her head. “There’s nothing more we can do. She won’t let us leave.”
Just then, the stone altar cracked open, the ground splitting wide beneath them. A low, vibrating hum filled the temple, and the shadows began to twist into shapes—figures, faces, forms that were almost human, but not quite. The shadows reached out for them, their fingers like elongated tendrils of smoke, pulling, tugging at the air.
Aarti felt herself being pulled toward the altar, her legs moving on their own, her body no longer under her control. The shadows surrounded her, their cold fingers brushing her skin, their presence suffocating. She struggled, but the pull was stronger than anything she had ever felt. She felt the weight of the curse deep in her bones, and she knew—knew—that they were not going to escape without paying the price.
“All will be claimed,” the goddess’s voice echoed, her laughter filling the room. It was cruel, triumphant. “The blood of the living is all that will appease me.”
Aarti screamed, the sound tearing through the temple as she fought against the force that was pulling her toward the altar. But it was no use. She could feel the cold, the darkness swallowing her whole, and she knew that it was too late.
The shadows were closing in.
But then, as if by some divine intervention, the ground shook violently, and the altar cracked open wide. The walls of the temple splintered, and in that instant, Aarti saw the sky—the real sky—far above them, beyond the roof of the temple. She saw the moon, a deep, bloody red, hanging low in the sky. It was the Blood Moon.
“The blood of the innocent… the blood of the willing…” the goddess whispered, her voice barely a breath. “It’s too late. You are mine.”
Aarti screamed again, but as the last of the temple walls crumbled away, the light of the Blood Moon flooded the room. The shadows seemed to shrink, recoiling from the light. The goddess’s voice, once so strong, faded, weakened.
The curse was breaking.
“No…” the goddess howled. “You cannot escape!”
And with that, the temple, the shadows, and the very air around them seemed to explode, releasing a wave of energy that sent them all flying backward.
The last thing Aarti saw was the Blood Moon above, its crimson light washing over the ruins of the temple. She didn’t know if they were free. She didn’t know if the goddess was gone for good.
But for the first time since entering the cursed temple, she felt the weight of the darkness lifting. The curse had been broken—or at least, for now, it had been silenced.
The battle had been won, but the scars of the temple would remain.
Chapter 9: The Hollow Return
The remnants of the temple lay in ruins, a crumbling heap of stone and shadows that no longer held the power it once did. The moon, now free from the dark influence of the goddess, hung in the sky—its red hue slowly fading to a pale, calm white. Aarti lay on the ground, gasping for air, her chest heaving as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off her shoulders. She could still feel the echoes of the goddess’s presence within her, but it was distant now, a fading memory of terror and darkness. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and crushed stone, but it was no longer tainted by the oppressive weight of the curse.
Rohit was the first to stand, shaking the dust off his clothes and looking around at the devastation. His face was set in a grim expression, but there was a look of relief in his eyes. “We did it,” he muttered, though the words didn’t feel like a victory. His gaze swept across the broken temple, now nothing more than a ruin of its former self.
Simran sat beside Aarti, her hands trembling as she helped her friend sit up. “We made it out,” Simran said softly, her voice distant, as though she wasn’t fully convinced it was real. “But at what cost?”
Aarti’s heart sank. Simran’s words resonated deeply with her. They had survived, yes, but at what cost? Maya was gone. Their friend, their companion, had sacrificed herself to the goddess. The weight of that sacrifice still hung over them, like a shadow they couldn’t shake off.
The others slowly gathered themselves, their expressions haunted by the events that had unfolded. The gravity of what they had faced seemed to settle over them now that the danger was over—well, at least, the immediate danger. But Aarti knew they would never truly be free from the memories of the temple.
“We need to go,” Aarti said, her voice quiet, almost apologetic. “We can’t stay here. Not after all that’s happened.”
Rohit nodded, glancing at the others. “Yeah. We need to leave before whatever is left of this place comes back. We don’t know if it’s really gone.” He turned to Simran. “Are you sure the curse is broken? I mean… what happened to Maya?”
Simran’s gaze darkened, her eyes distant as she stared at the ruins of the temple. “I’m not sure,” she whispered. “But I know that the goddess’s power is no longer tied to the temple. Her hold on this place has ended. But I don’t think we’ll ever truly know the consequences of what we did—of what we took from her.”
Aarti looked at her, confusion clouding her expression. “What do you mean? You said Maya’s sacrifice would protect us. We should be safe now.”
Simran met her eyes, and there was a sadness in her expression that Aarti couldn’t quite place. “I hope so,” she said, her voice low. “But sometimes… the consequences of tampering with something as ancient as that… they don’t always reveal themselves right away. We might not have escaped as unscathed as we think.”
Aarti swallowed hard, the realization hitting her like a heavy blow. Even though they were alive, even though they had survived the temple and its curse, there were deeper scars—ones that wouldn’t fade with time.
As they made their way out of the temple’s ruins, stepping carefully through the broken stone and twisted debris, Aarti couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. The moon above had returned to its natural, pale hue, and the night seemed peaceful now, almost serene. But peace was a strange thing after everything they had been through. It felt like an illusion, something they had only earned by paying a terrible price.
The journey back to the village was long, and the landscape around them seemed unchanged. The dense forests of Rishikesh, which had once felt so foreboding, now appeared strangely calm, almost too calm. As they walked, Aarti’s mind wandered back to the temple. What had really happened there? Had they truly ended the goddess’s curse, or had they only postponed the inevitable?
Aarti glanced at her friends—Rohit, Simran, Dev—all of them were silent, lost in their own thoughts. But Maya’s absence was palpable, a hole in the center of their group that none of them could ignore. The loss was too great, too deep, to put into words.
They reached the outskirts of the village just as the first light of dawn began to break through the trees. The sun, pale and soft, cast long shadows on the ground as it rose over the horizon. The world felt different now, as though they were no longer part of it.
“We made it out,” Rohit said, his voice sounding strangely hollow, as though the words themselves held no meaning anymore. “But we’ll never be the same.”
Aarti nodded, unable to speak. The weight of their journey, the horrors they had faced, and the sacrifice of their friend Maya pressed down on her, leaving her speechless. What was left to say? What was there to do when the darkness they had fought had become a permanent part of their past?
Simran stopped, her eyes scanning the village that lay ahead, the familiar surroundings suddenly unfamiliar. She seemed lost in thought, her hand on her chest as though feeling the echo of something deeper, something that the rest of them couldn’t yet understand.
Aarti approached her slowly. “Simran, are you… okay?”
Simran turned to face her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I will be. In time. We all will be.”
But Aarti could see the sadness in her eyes. It was the sadness of someone who had lost more than just a friend—it was the sadness of someone who had lost a part of themselves.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting golden rays over the village, Aarti felt an overwhelming sense of grief for what they had lost. They had survived, but survival had its price. And some things—like Maya’s sacrifice—could never be undone.
They walked back into the village, each of them carrying their own burdens, their own unanswered questions. But the temple was behind them now, the nightmare that had taken hold of their lives finally released, its dark power broken. Or so they hoped.
The sun set on the Blood Moon, and though the night was calm, Aarti couldn’t shake the feeling that something still watched them—something that had been awakened by their presence, something that might never let them truly escape. The curse had been broken, yes—but its memory would follow them forever.
Chapter 10: The Last Echo
Days passed since they left the ruins of the temple, but it felt like time itself had slowed. The village of Rishikesh, once a tranquil haven, now seemed hollow to Aarti. The bright morning sun, the chirping of birds, the sounds of the river winding through the valley—it all felt distant, like a world she no longer belonged to. The events of the temple clung to her, wrapping around her heart and mind in a relentless grip that would not loosen.
The village, with its smiling locals and simple rhythms, couldn’t erase the horrors they had faced. The nights were the hardest. Each time she closed her eyes, the goddess’s voice rang in her mind—“You are mine…” Her words echoed, reverberating through Aarti’s thoughts. The feeling of being watched never left. She had hoped the curse would stay buried, locked away with the shattered temple, but there were whispers she couldn’t escape.
Rohit had become withdrawn, his eyes shadowed, like a part of him had been left behind in the temple. Simran, who had always been the most in tune with the mystical, had grown more silent, her face etched with sorrow. She seemed lost, a woman haunted by her past, the knowledge of the goddess’s power too much to bear. Even Dev, always the skeptic, was unsettled, his once firm disbelief now faltering in the wake of everything they had experienced.
The night after they returned to the village, Aarti woke in a cold sweat, the memory of the goddess’s presence too real, too vivid. The shadows in her room had felt alive, reaching toward her as if the darkness itself were waiting to claim her. She shot out of bed, heart pounding, but when she turned on the light, the room was empty—silent.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened. But each time it did, her fear deepened. She was beginning to wonder if the curse had truly been broken, or if something far worse had been set in motion.
On the fourth night after their return, Aarti could no longer bear it. She needed answers. If the curse wasn’t over, if the goddess still lingered in the shadows, she had to know. And she knew exactly who could help.
Simran.
Aarti found her near the river that ran through the village, standing at the water’s edge, staring out at the swirling currents. The light of the moon cast an ethereal glow over the water, and for a moment, Aarti thought Simran looked like a figure from another time—trapped between two worlds.
“Simran,” Aarti called softly, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”
Simran turned slowly, her face drawn, but there was a look of recognition in her eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight that made Aarti’s chest tighten. “About Maya… about the curse… about the goddess.”
Aarti felt a chill run through her. “What do you mean? We broke it, didn’t we? We survived.”
Simran looked down at the flowing river, her fingers trailing the surface of the water. “Did we really break it?” she asked softly. “Or did we just delay it?”
Aarti’s heart sank. “What are you saying?”
Simran’s eyes flickered with a deep sorrow. “I’m saying that the goddess was never just a spirit trapped in the temple. She was bound to the land, to the river, to the very forest surrounding Rishikesh. The temple… it was merely the anchor, the physical manifestation of her power. When we broke the temple, when we thought we were freeing ourselves, we may have only… disturbed the balance.”
Aarti stood frozen, the full weight of Simran’s words crashing down on her. “You mean… she’s still here? In the land itself?”
Simran nodded slowly. “The curse was never fully contained. It was a part of the very essence of this place—of everything we’ve known here. The forest, the river, the land—it’s all tied to her. And as long as this place exists, she can never truly be gone.”
Aarti took a step back, her breath shallow. “But why didn’t we feel it? I mean… after the temple was destroyed, after Maya—” Her voice caught, but she pressed on. “We felt free. We felt like we could breathe again.”
Simran’s lips trembled as she spoke, her eyes distant. “The goddess feeds on fear, on sorrow. When we left the temple, she let us believe we were free. But she’s been watching us, waiting. And now, she’s stronger than ever, because she knows we’re vulnerable.”
Aarti felt a coldness seep into her bones. “So what do we do? How do we stop her?”
Simran’s gaze shifted to the river again, as if the water itself held the answers she was seeking. “There’s no easy way out of this. The only way to truly break the curse is to sever the connection between her and this land. And that can only be done through one thing—the blood of the land.”
Aarti’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? What does that mean?”
Simran met her gaze, her face grim. “The land, the river, the temple—everything was created by the goddess. She gave birth to it, and so, it is bound to her. To break the curse once and for all, we need to make a sacrifice—one that binds the land’s power to the goddess forever. We need to destroy the source of her strength.”
Aarti swallowed hard, a knot forming in her throat. “The land itself? But how can we destroy something that’s… alive?”
Simran’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s not about destruction. It’s about transformation. We must destroy the link, the bloodline that binds her to the land. The goddess’s power is not just in the temple, or the forest, or the river—it’s in the people. Her bloodline runs through this village. Someone here is a descendant of her original worshippers. That person is the key to breaking the curse once and for all.”
Aarti felt the blood drain from her face. “Who? Who is it?”
Simran turned, locking eyes with her. “It’s me, Aarti. I am the last of her bloodline.”
The world seemed to shift beneath Aarti’s feet. She could barely breathe as the weight of Simran’s words settled in her chest. “But… why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you—”
Simran shook her head, cutting her off. “Because I didn’t want this to happen. I thought I could live my life outside of it. But the goddess’s blood runs through my veins. And now, I have to make the ultimate choice: to sever the connection and free us all, or to remain bound to her and allow the curse to continue.”
Aarti felt a deep sadness wash over her. She reached out, taking Simran’s hand in hers. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Simran gave her a faint smile, her eyes full of regret. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve known this day would come. I’ve known all along that the end of this story would be mine. I just didn’t know how much it would cost.”
With a final, quiet breath, Simran turned toward the river. The moonlight glistened on the water, and as she walked into the river’s depths, Aarti knew that the goddess’s hold over them was finally broken.
Simran’s sacrifice would end the curse forever.
The last echo of the goddess faded away, leaving only the gentle sound of the river’s flow—a sound that, for the first time, seemed truly peaceful.
And with it, the land, the temple, and the curse were at last laid to rest.
The Blood Moon had set.
The End
