Swarnabha’s newfound wealth transformed his life in ways he had never anticipated. With each coin he retrieved from the depths of the womb, he felt the shackles of poverty slowly fall away. His modest home in Pune became a palace of excess, adorned with silks and glimmering treasures that dazzled the eye. Yet beneath the gilded surface lay a rot that festered within his heart, a haunting reminder of the monstrous old woman and the creature he had awakened.
Every trip back to Meghrid felt like a descent into madness, but the allure of the treasure was impossible to resist. Each time he ventured into the mansion, the grip of Mahman’s hunger clawed at his psyche, a dark echo that whispered promises of unending riches. He had learned to lure the creature with the dough doll, but the encounter left him shaken. The beast’s insatiable gaze haunted his dreams, a reminder that with every coin he stole, he was tethering himself closer to a fate worse than death.
One evening, as Swarnabha counted his latest bounty in the dim light of his opulent home, Ahilan, the moneylender and his closest friend, entered uninvited. “Swarnabha,” he said, eyeing the gleaming coins scattered across the table, “you’ve changed. Where are you getting all this wealth?”
Swarnabha’s heart raced, but he forced a smile. “Just a few good investments. You know how it is.”
“Investments don’t yield this kind of fortune overnight,” Ahilan pressed, a frown deepening on his brow. “What’s your secret?”
Panic surged through Swarnabha. He had to protect his treasure, to guard the dark path he had chosen. “It’s nothing,” he said, shrugging. “You should focus on your own business.”
Ahilan narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. “I’m going to find out, Swarnabha. You can’t hide it forever.”
As the days passed, Swarnabha sensed Ahilan’s growing obsession with the truth. The air between them thickened with suspicion, and every casual encounter became a tightrope walk over a chasm of fear. Swarnabha couldn’t risk losing his only source of wealth. The more he thought about it, the more he feared Ahilan’s relentless pursuit.
Finally, desperation took hold. He hatched a plan, one that would rid him of the threat without raising alarms. “Why don’t you join me on my next trip to Meghrid?” he suggested one evening, feigning enthusiasm. “There’s a hidden treasure I think we can find together.”
Ahilan’s eyes lit up with intrigue. “I’m in.”
The following morning, they set out together, the tension between them simmering like a pot on the verge of boiling over. As they approached the familiar mansion, the weight of Swarnabha’s dark intentions pressed down on him like a physical force.
“Where’s the treasure?” Ahilan asked, glancing around. “Is it inside?”
“Of course,” Swarnabha said, leading him toward the door. “It’s deeper than you think. We need to go into the mansion’s heart.”
Inside, they navigated through the winding corridors, and Swarnabha’s heart hammered in his chest. He led Ahilan down the staircase to the womb, the air growing heavier with each step. The light dimmed as they descended, and he felt a creeping dread envelop him.
At last, they stood before the pulsating womb, the darkness around it throbbing like a living entity. “There it is,” Swarnabha said, pointing to the dough doll resting on the ground. “We just need to lure Mahman.”
“What are you waiting for?” Ahilan urged, his excitement palpable.
“Here, let me show you how it’s done,” Swarnabha replied, carefully placing the doll just outside the protective flour circle he had drawn. “Watch closely.”
He began to chant the incantation that had served him well before, his heart racing. “Mahman! Come forth! We have food for you!”
The air grew still as they waited, and then a low growl echoed from the depths of the womb. Swarnabha’s stomach twisted as Mahman began to emerge, an amorphous mass of greed and hunger, eyes glinting with unholy desire. But this time, he had another victim to lure the beast.
“Ahilan, come closer!” Swarnabha urged, forcing the words out as Mahman’s monstrous form took shape. “Don’t be afraid. Just watch.”
Ahilan, entranced, took a step forward. “It’s incredible!”
“Now! Go fetch the doll!” Swarnabha shouted, desperation clawing at his throat.
As Ahilan stepped outside the circle, Swarnabha’s heart raced. “It’s safe, trust me!” he called, urging him forward. But as soon as Ahilan reached for the doll, Mahman lunged, a primal roar shattering the air.
Swarnabha stepped back, heart pounding as he watched the creature engulf Ahilan, its grotesque form swallowing his friend whole. Ahilan’s screams echoed through the chamber, but there was no rescue this time.
With a surge of adrenaline, Swarnabha snatched a flask of oil from his satchel, the remnants of the flame he had used to burn the old woman. “I’m sorry, Ahilan!” he shouted, but his voice was drowned in Mahman’s frenzied growls.
Swarnabha doused Ahilan’s writhing body in oil, the smell of smoke and sulfur filling his nostrils. The creature was distracted, still gorging itself on Ahilan’s flesh, and in that moment of chaos, Swarnabha ignited a match, throwing it onto Ahilan’s oil-soaked form.
The flames erupted with a sickening whoosh, lighting the chamber in an orange glow. Mahman recoiled, howling in rage as the fire consumed Ahilan’s body. The heat was unbearable, and Swarnabha staggered back, heart pounding in terror and triumph.
In the blaze, he saw Ahilan’s face, twisted in agony as the flames licked away flesh and sinew. The grotesque image etched itself into Swarnabha’s mind—a price paid for wealth, for greed, for a fate he could not escape.
Mahman writhed in the firelight, the creature’s hunger transformed into fury. Swarnabha stumbled back, his heart racing, but the flames weren’t enough. The creature lunged toward him, fury igniting its hunger anew, and for a moment, Swarnabha felt the terrifying grip of Mahman’s desire close around him.
Desperation fueled his actions as he turned and fled, racing back up the staircase, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind him, the screams of Mahman mingled with the crackling of flames, a cacophony that chased him into the night.
As he burst outside, the cool air washed over him, but there was no relief. He had crossed a line from which there was no return. The fire illuminated the sky, casting long shadows over the village of Meghrid, a dark omen of the horrors that would follow.
Swarnabha ran until he reached Pune, but even then, he felt the tendrils of Mahman’s hunger reaching for him, clawing at his sanity. The weight of Ahilan’s demise bore down on him like a curse, and the darkness that had awakened within him now pulsed like a heartbeat.
The gold he had stolen glimmered temptingly in his pocket, but it felt like a chain, binding him to a fate he could not escape. Swarnabha had fed his greed, but now he would pay the ultimate price—one that would haunt him long after the flames had burned out. The horror was far from over; it was just beginning.
