𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄| 𝟏𝟖+

6. Slavery

Author's POV

As Nayan walked sinde the huge mansion, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her. 

The aura of the villa was utterly dark, with no light except for the unsettling red lights at various corners, casting long, ominous shadows. The interior was even more disturbing—dark tones dominated every room, with peculiar artifacts and strange objects that seemed out of place.  

The silence was palpable, broken only by the occasional jingle of her jewelry, which seemed to pierce the quiet in an uncanny way. Nayan felt a chill of discomfort, as though the very air was thick with malevolence.

Her discomfort only grew as she entered the main hallway. Her gaze was drawn to the left wall, where she initially thought she saw black butterfly stickers, but upon closer inspection, they revealed themselves to be bat stickers, their wings outstretched in a sinister embrace. The other wall was decorated with gothic elements—ornate, dark mirrors and intricate, eerie carvings that added to the oppressive atmosphere.

The curtains hanging by the huge French window were a deep shade of dark grey, their heavy fabric adding to the somber mood of the room. The entire space exuded a sense of foreboding, a stark contrast to the bright and cheerful atmosphere she had left behind at her father's house.

The absence of a warm welcome from her in-laws felt like a slap in the face. There were no traditional rituals, no joyous celebrations. It was as if she were an unwelcome guest rather than a cherished bride. This lack of hospitality was insulting and strange, adding to the foreboding sense that something was not right about this place.

The sense of claustrophobia was overwhelming, as if the very high and imposing, black walls were closing in on her.

Turning back to search for her husband, Nayan found herself alone in the vast emptiness. Yashvardhan was nowhere to be seen; he seemed to have vanished into thin air. The realization struck her with a wave of panic. The silence of the mansion, now more pronounced in his absence, felt even more suffocating in lack of human interactions. 

Suddenly, a sharp and commanding voice cut through the silence, piercing Nayan's eardrums and making her jolt.

"You! Girl! Come with me."

Nayan turned to see Sadhna Thakur standing in the doorway, her presence as cold and imposing as the surroundings. Her eyes were sharp, her expression stern. Without waiting for a response, Sadhna turned on her heel and strode down a narrow corridor, leaving Nayan little choice but to follow.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest as she trailed behind Sadhna. The corridor was secluded, tucked away from the main areas of the mansion, and the dim, flickering lights only heightened the sense of isolation. The walls seemed to press in on her from both sides, and each step felt like she was descending into a dark abyss, a deep hole that might trap her forever once she reached its end.

Goosebumps erupted on Nayan's skin as a chill of apprehension washed over her. Her mind raced with a torrent of thoughts—her father's warnings about Thakur Memsahib, the unsettling atmosphere of the villa, the strange and foreboding decorations. Was her father right about Sadhna? Was she indeed up to something sinister?

Nayan felt confused and disoriented, her senses overwhelmed by the eerie environment and the growing sense of entrapment. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, its darkness swallowing up any glimmer of hope or comfort. Every sound, every shadow, seemed magnified in the oppressive silence, making her feel as though she was being drawn further into a trap.

Her steps felt heavy, her anxiety mounting with each passing moment. The corridor appeared to lead into an even darker part of the mansion, and Nayan's apprehension grew stronger. The sense of being trapped, of having no escape, was almost unbearable.