I wrote this chapter in a hurry and wasn't able to proofread so the wording might be off.

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A young man stood at the fence and watched the love of his life being helped onto her doli. Tears fell on their own as he looked onto his dirty hands, he was a labour, working for the british under the wealthy feudal lords. And the love of his life was being married to 'Vivek Rathore', he was known to be the britishers bootlicker, a greedy man and unfortunatey their zamindaar.

She was supposed to be his but she had no choice. He was in debt, because of the failed crops this year, many farmers were starving and he couldn't be selfish to destroy her life. In Thakur's mansion she could have all the wealth and luxury she deserved. What did he have? He could only love her from afar.

The doli was lifted and he saw her heena clad hands, her eyes were teary like his, as she waved at him through the window, he saw the design on her hand. It was 'Ka', written in sanskrit alphabet, a soft smile curved on his lip as he lifted his hand and waved back saying goodbye to his lover.

The love of his life, the woman he had dreamt of spending his life with, Meghna.

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"Baabu tu idhar kya kar raha?" His mother asked, she had just returned from her working place, his mother was a famous tantric. She made enough to fill their bellies with food, he was more of a liablity for her. He had made a huge mistake and signed away those papers that zamindar had forced them to, and now he was a literal slave.

"Udaas hai?" He nodded his head, scraping the ground, "Because of Meghna?", he stopped,his hands halting her name a like a dagger to his heart. His mother patted his shoulder, "It doesn't matter, one day you will meet a woman-".

"Mujhe bas woh chahiye!"

He stood up controlling his tears knowing now she would be in the arms of her husband, he might be showering her with love. And here he was drowning in her memories while she was becoming someone else's. It broke his heart, "Usko toh meri yaad bhi nahi aarahi hogi, kaha mai ek chota sa kisaan aur woh Thakur".

There was a hint of jealousy in his tone, every farmer- every man born in poverty would look at the rich zamindar and wonder, 'what if they were born into wealth too?'

"Pagal hogya kya?" Her mother picked up the jhaadu and smacked his leg with it, she saw the craziness in his eyes. "Usne meri mohabbat cheen li".

Her mother picked up her chappal and threw that at him, "Bakwaas band kar, kisine sunn liya na toh dono ko khandar m phek denge. Apni buddhi Maa ka toh soch".

And her words brought him out of his delusion, "Aap hi ka sochkar khudko rok leta hu, warna Meghna ki doli thodi uthne deta".

Her mother consoled him by taking his hand, "Tera haath padha hai maine, iss janam mai nahi toh agle mai woh teri hogi, kasam se".

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"Murtasim, why were you running?" Karthik asked, seeing his best friend struggling to catch his breath, gripping the fence tightly. "The Thakur is dead, they're burning Meghna-"

"Where is she?"

"Taking his corpse to the cremation ground," and he was already sprinting away. Panic gripped Karthik's heart; something felt wrong since he woke up. The overcast skies mirrored his inner turmoil as he raced, haunted by the image of Meghna engulfed in flames. He couldn't bear the thought. He had let her go once for her happiness. The idea of her charred body and innocent eyes tormented him, propelling him to run faster, lest he lose her again. Losing her now would extinguish even the flicker of hope.

Their love story had captivated the city, even Vivek Thakur knew of it. With Thakur's demise, Karthik couldn't let evil triumph again.

At the cremation ground, he saw her, clad in the same bridal sari he last saw her in, her eyes lifeless as she ignited the pyre. He screamed, charging towards the inferno. She reached out, tears streaming, but before he could grasp her hand, he was restrained by Varun Thakur, Vivek's younger brother. Despite his struggle, he watched her weep as the flames consumed her. Desperate, he reached for her, kicking the Thakur, but their brief touch ended in agony as a sharp pain pierced his abdomen. They were torn apart once more. She is burnt alive as she watched the love of her life being beaten, his eyes on her, "Meghna..." he calls her name but is knocked out by a heavy rock to his head. His body is dragged back to his home and in his final breaths he looks at the gardens where they had chased each other, at the statue where they would sit together. At his doorstep, he drew his last breath. When his mother returned at night, she found him and collapsed in anguish, mourning her lost son. Her wails echoed through the village. as she clung to his lifeless hand, hoping for a pulse that would never return. And there, in the darkness, she learned of his tragic end from the neighbour who came to console her.

Her grief knew no bounds, her heart torn asunder by the cruel fate that had befallen her beloved son. The night air was thick with her sorrow, the silence of the village pierced by her anguished cries. She stood, a solitary figure against the moonless night, her eyes reflecting the depths of her despair.

As she walked the path to the shamshan ghat, her mind replayed the memories of her son's laughter, the warmth of his embrace, the light in his eyes that had once been the beacon of her existence. Now, all that remained was the cold body the remnants of a life extinguished too soon.

With trembling hands, she gathered Meghna's ashes, the last physical connection to her son, whispering a vow that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "She will be yours in the next life," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the howling of the wolves that seemed to mourn with her.

Returning home, she prepared for the ritual that would bind Karthik and Meghna's souls for eternity. The tantric rites required a sacrifice, a final act of love and desperation. As she chanted the ancient incantations, her blood mingled with the ashes, sealing the pact between mother and son, as she sacrificed herself for her son.

The wind rose in a furious crescendo, as if the very heavens were responding to her plea. And then, a stillness fell upon the night, a hush that seemed to wait with bated breath.

Karthik's body, once cold and lifeless, began to stir. The veins beneath his pale skin pulsed with newfound vitality, his eyes opening to reveal a crimson glow. The thirst that consumed him was overpowering, driving him from the sanctuary of his home into the darkness beyond.

His newfound strength was a marvel, his senses heightened to an unimaginable degree. He moved with a predator's grace, his every step sure and silent. The Thakur's mansion loomed before him, a symbol of the injustice that had robbed him of his love, his life.

Varun Thakur had the power to save her. But he let her die so he could take over his brother's wealth, Karthik remembered the vulnerable look in her eyes as she sat on the pyre, now that man lay vulnerable before Karthik's wrath. There was no hesitation, no mercy, only the sweet taste of blood as Karthik claimed the life that had once claimed his and his beloved's.

The deed done, Karthik wandered the silent corridors, drawn to the room that had once belonged to Meghna. Memories flooded back, each one a sharp reminder of what he had lost. The mirror reflected a stranger, a bloody visage marred by the violence of his actions, a stark contrast to the man he once was.

In the quiet of the night, with the echoes of his mother's lament still hanging in the air, Karthik faced the reality of his existence. He was reborn, not as the man he once was, but as a creature of the night, bound by blood and vengeance, forever searching for solace in a world that had taken everything from him.

As the first rays of the morning sun pierced the horizon, Karthik felt an intense burning sensation coursing through his veins, a stark reminder of the curse that now bound him to the shadows. With a heavy heart, he returned to his home, the weight of grief weighing heavily upon his shoulders.

Upon reaching home, his eyes fell upon the imposing figure of the big old steel cupboard, this could be a vessel for his eternal slumber. With a sense of grim determination, he dragged it out to the garden, the creaking of its hinges echoing in the quiet morning air.

With hands weathered by time and sorrow, Karthik began to dig, the earth yielding to his touch as if mourning the loss of another soul. One grave for his beloved mother, whose memory still haunted him with every passing moment. Another for himself, a final resting place for a life cut short by tragedy and betrayal.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its fiery gaze seemed to intensify, casting long shadows over the makeshift graves. The sunlight threatened to consume him, but with a speed born of desperation, Karthik filled in his mother's grave, a final act of love and devotion.

With trembling hands, he climbed into the confines of the old cupboard, its musty interior offering a semblance of solace amidst the chaos of the world outside. Exhausted and weary, he closed his eyes, succumbing to the embrace of sleep as the passage of time continued unabated. The neighbours and his only friend grieved, Murtasim Khan his best friend gave up his favourite lighter that Karthik had always admired, burying it with him.

Years turned into decades, civilizations rose and fell, yet Karthik remained ensconced within his timeless tomb, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of history. The India's independence, the birth of a new nation, all passed him by unnoticed as he lay in eternal slumber.

And then, in the year 2024, fate intervened once more, as someone stumbled upon the centuries-old cupboard, its secrets hidden beneath layers of dust and decay. With bated breath, people watched as the lid was pried open, revealing the mummified remains of a man long forgotten by time.

The discovery sent shockwaves through the scientific community, sparking a frenzy of experimentation and analysis as researchers sought to unravel the mysteries of this enigmatic figure. Was he a relic of the past, preserved by some unknown force? Or did his presence hint at something more sinister lurking beneath the surface?

Somewhere a young woman sat at her desk, sipping her appy juice and pouring over the latest news, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder, "This is why I wanted to be a journalist".

The dead man was preserved, some believed he was struck by lightning and was still alive. But months passed and people soon lost interest, the case was passed from senior journalist to the juniors and finally Meerab got the case.

Her excitement had no limits, to finally work on a case that truly excited her.

She opened the file on her computer and read the name of the subject, "Murtasim Khan", identified by a lighter that had his name carved onto it.

Her friend Kavya came over, and looked at the computer and laughed, "Isse interesting baat batau?"

Meerab nodded excitedly, Kavya had worked on the case for three months, "Do you know why all the female interns so excited to see him?"

"No, why?" Maybe they found the case exciting but the mischeivious look in Kavya's eyes told her it was something else.

She opened her phone and whispered in her ear, "Don't tell anyone, since you are gonna work on this case, this might motivate you to work harder".

It wasn't legal to take pictures of research subject. In the photo she saw his face, on the bed, a pale skin with sharp jawline, beard and a pointy moustache. He didn't look dead, his relaxed features made it look like he was asleep.

"He looks like the desi version of Edward Cullen", Kavya laughed, "We called him Snow White, Meerab this man is hot, and I know it's wrong to say this but I wish I was in the eigtheen century. I would have-", Meerab flicked her finger bringing Kavya out of her dream like state and she saw the judgement in Meerab's eyes.

"It's easy for you, you haven't seen him yet, because the moment you see him, my dear Meerab you will fall for the man".

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I have exams in seven hours, bye-bye💃

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