When Aastha met Veer, she knew they had a connection.
However, the connection would be from two centuries ago, she never could have imagined.
A love story that remained unfulfilled, broken by evil, and destroyed to ashes - whose reference hide...
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-Few hours earlier-
The sun was just rising in Roopgarh. Shopkeepers were setting up their stalls, and a few joggers were out for their morning exercise. The city was slowly waking up when a lean man walked down the empty streets. He looked determined and focused, and everyone who saw him stopped in surprise. It wasn't common to see an Aghori walking through the city like this. People started talking – some least bothered, some curious, and others wondered if this was a good or bad sign.
The Aghori stood at the entrance of Rudragarh under the scorching sun, a striking figure draped in tattered cloth that barely covered his sinewy frame. His body bore the scars of countless rituals, etched into his flesh like a map of suffering and enlightenment. Adorned from head to toe with beads made of rudraksha seeds, each one a testament to his devotion to the divine, he was a living symbol of asceticism. His wrinkled face bore the marks of a lifetime spent in meditation and austerity, and his deep, penetrating eyes seemed to hold the secrets of the universe within their depths.
In one hand, he clutched a Kapala which is a ritual bowl, and a staff made from twisted roots. In his other hand was a brass kamandala containing the sacred water of the Ganga. A small white cloth bag hung over his shoulders. The Aghori smelled strongly of ashes, which he had smeared on his skin, and incense sticks that he always carried with him.
"Is this why you refused to grant me liberation?" he asked, his voice hoarse. He had lived on this planet for nearly a century. He was on his way to the Himalayas for Vairagya, the ultimate meditation ritual to end his mortal life and attain moksha. But on his path, he encountered a flock of crows, their painful cawing filling the air. As he looked up, they fell lifeless around him, revealing the presence of spirits within them. Before succumbing, one of the crows begged him to follow, leading him to Roopgarh all the way from Haridwar.
Before dying, the crow spirit pleaded for release, revealing it was held against its will through witchcraft. Before the Aghori could help the spirit disappeared, warning of an imminent sinister force. The Aghori knew the ancient tantric ritual of imprisoning spirits within animals and birds was rarely practiced today, and the ability to enslave these spirits for malevolent purposes was a grave threat to humanity.
"Is this my final duty?" the Aghori asked, looking up at the sky. "Om Namo Shivaya!" he yelled. "I will fulfill my purpose."
And so, he entered the haunted city of Rudragarh. The guards, used to seeing strange people - tantrics, pranksters, or those doing weird shoots- barely glanced at the Aghori as he walked by. Workers fixing the old buildings outside the gate watched him curiously, a little scared. But the Aghori ignored them and followed his gut feeling, going deeper into the ruins. Since it was early, there weren't many tourists.
Crossing the initial area, he arrived at the fort of Rudragarh, which continued to stand strong despite its dilapidated state. Holding his staff to his forehead, he chanted mantras, letting his instincts guide him with his eyes closed. He came upon a crumbling section of the fort, a small structure almost hidden by overgrown trees and a collapsed dome blocking the entrance. Clearing the path, he found himself standing before what used to be a Krishna temple.
