" What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."
-T.S. Eliot
In the enigmatic town of Kshaya lurks a figure shrouded in infamy: SHAITAN, the most wanted criminal whose true id...
Shaitan stepped into the mansion with an air of quiet dominance, his black t-shirt and leather jacket clinging to his imposing frame. His boots, worn from countless journeys, struck the polished floor with a deliberate rhythm that echoed through the sprawling estate. The mansion, nestled amidst meticulously maintained gardens and flanked by towering trees, stood as a testament to power and wealth. Its grand driveway, lined with vibrant blooms and manicured hedges, led to an imposing entrance adorned with intricate carvings that whispered stories of opulence.
The double doors creaked open, revealing a vast foyer bathed in the warm glow of a crystal chandelier suspended from a ceiling so high it seemed to scrape the heavens. Polished marble floors gleamed underfoot, their cool surface reflecting the grandeur around them. Shaitan's eyes scanned the space, taking in the gilded railings of the grand staircase and the subtle hum of a house that pulsed with influence.
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Ascending the staircase with a measured pace, he caught sight of a cluster of workers standing at the entrance to an elegantly designed bedroom. Their stiff postures betrayed both reverence and apprehension as they turned to face him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease.
One of the workers, a middle-aged man in a neatly pressed uniform, stepped forward hesitantly, his voice wavering. "Sir, madam is currently occupied. May I ask who allowed you inside?"
Shaitan paused mid-step, his gaze locking onto the man with an intensity that sent a chill through the air. He didn't answer immediately, letting the silence hang like a blade. Then, with a faint smirk, he replied, his voice low but laced with authority. "Tell her my name-Shaitan. And ask her if she wants to secure her victory in the upcoming election."
The worker's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the name. Without another word, he turned and disappeared through the ornate doors, his hurried steps a stark contrast to Shaitan's calm demeanor.
Moments later, the worker reappeared, his expression now tinged with a mix of relief and urgency. Bowing slightly, he gestured towards the door. "Madam has agreed to see you, sir. Please, step inside."
Shaitan nodded, brushing past the worker as he approached the threshold. The room beyond awaited him, its secrets concealed behind the heavy wooden doors. As they swung open, Shaitan crossed into a world where power was bartered, alliances forged, and destinies decided.
The bedroom, despite its grandeur, was filled with an eerie stillness that contrasted sharply with the opulence of the space. A regal king-sized bed, draped in lavish linens of silk and velvet, stood as the centerpiece, exuding an air of refinement. Elegant furniture encircled the bed, creating a sanctuary of comfort, while large windows opened to a private balcony, revealing a serene view of a shimmering pool surrounded by verdant gardens. The tranquility outside, however, was a cruel contrast to the horror within.
Durniti lay sprawled across the bed, her once-beautiful features now marred by a cascade of crimson that coated her face. The blood, thick and dark, obscured her expression, her once-glistening eyes now hidden beneath matted strands of hair. Her body, drenched in gore, seemed almost lifeless, the blood trickling from her forehead a silent testament to the violence that had unfolded. The pristine white bedsheets, once a symbol of luxury and purity, were now stained a deep, haunting red. The blood pooled beneath her, dark and viscous, as it spread outward, tainting the surface in a grotesque display of brutality.
