The Crimson Devotion

Episode :- 6

The morning was cloaked in an unsettling silence, as if the very air in Chandipur held its breath. The guest house verandah, usually alive with faint sounds of birds or the rustle of leaves, was eerily still. Anurita stood at the edge, absently stirring her tea, the aroma failing to soothe her frayed nerves. The events of the past days replayed in her mind like a relentless reel—the desperate cries of Sampoorna’s family, the haunting markings on the banyan tree, and the elusive drumming that felt like a heartbeat, steady and ancient, emanating from the dark forest.

The silence broke as Suboy  approached briskly, his khaki uniform crumpled but his expression resolute. His shoes crunched against the gravel path, each step snapping Anurita out of her thoughts.

“Miss Mukherjee,” he called out, holding up a folded letter and a small cloth pouch. “We’ve got something.”

Anurita straightened, her gaze narrowing. “What is it?” she asked, setting her tea aside.

“This was left on the shrine steps early this morning,” Suboy explained, placing the items on the table. “A villager found it during his morning prayers and brought it straight to me.”

The letter’s rough paper was smeared with streaks of dried mud, the handwriting erratic and jagged, as if scrawled in haste. Unfolding it, Anurita read aloud:

“The goddess demands more. Blood flows freely, but the debt remains unpaid. Do not search for Sampoorna. She has become one with the Mother.”

Her jaw tightened, the ominous words echoing in her mind. She placed the letter on the table and opened the pouch. Inside was a burnt bracelet, its beads charred and fragile. She held it up, turning it in her hands. The bracelet’s familiar design made her stomach churn—it belonged to Sampoorna.

“This is her bracelet,” she said, her voice heavy with determination. “They’re taunting us.”

Suboy nodded grimly. “What do you want to do next?”

Anurita’s tone turned steely. “Gather the villagers. We need to question them again. Someone must have seen or heard something last night. We can’t afford to let this slip by.”

Suboy gave a curt nod and left to carry out her orders, leaving Anurita alone with her thoughts. She gazed out toward the horizon, where the dense forest loomed like a shadow, its secrets waiting to be unearthed.

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Later that day, the banyan tree at the heart of Chandipur became the reluctant meeting point for the villagers.

The crowd, a mix of men, women, and children, gathered hesitantly, their faces etched with fear and mistrust. Whispers rippled among them, their voices rising and falling like nervous waves. When Anurita arrived with Suboy and Anindya in tow, the murmurs ceased, replaced by a tense silence.

Anurita stepped forward, her sharp gaze scanning the crowd. She held up the letter. “This was found at the shrine this morning,” she began, her voice firm. “It speaks of blood debts and warns us not to search for Sampoorna. Whoever left this is counting on your silence to protect them.”

Her words were met with uneasy shuffling and averted eyes.

“Sampoorna is missing,” she continued, her tone sharpening. “Just like the others. If you want to protect your own families, you need to tell us what you know. Every detail, no matter how small, could save a life.”

The villagers exchanged nervous glances, but no one stepped forward. Anurita’s patience was wearing thin.

“Enough!” she said, her voice slicing through the silence. “If you think staying quiet will keep you safe, you’re wrong. The cult preys on fear, and your silence only makes their work easier.”