11:00 p.m. – Old Abandoned House
Rain lashes the broken roof of the derelict house. The darkness is thick, broken only by brief flashes of lightning. The old clock inside ticks loud in the silence—11:00 sharp.
Rohan stands near a cracked window, soaked and breathing heavily. His face is tense—eyes scanning for any sign of Sakharam.
Constable Raju, gripping a flashlight, whispers,
"Rohan sir… I think someone just walked in. There's fresh mud near the entrance."
Rohan steps over quickly, crouching down to inspect the footprints. His voice is low, urgent.
"Hold the front. Don't move unless I call. I'll circle to the back—there's another way in."
Raju nods, taking position.
Rohan moves fast through the side, his boots splashing in the puddles. He finds the rusted stairs at the back, climbs quietly, and reaches a window half-covered in plastic sheeting. He prepares to break it open—
Crash!
A powerful kick from inside smashes the window outward— the boot strikes Rohan square in the chest, sending him crashing down the stairs into the mud below.
Groaning, Rohan tries to sit up, pain flashing through his ribs.
Above, through the jagged glass, a figure stands—Inspector Mahadik, his eyes milky white, face expressionless.
Possessed.
The wind howls as Mahadik leans forward, almost inhumanly calm.
Rohan (gasping):
"Mahadik...?"
But there's no answer—only a cold stare.
Lightning flashes—illuminating the horror that's just begun.
To be continued...
Earlier that morning 5:05 am...
Rohan unlocked his door and stepped into the silence of his apartment.
His eyes were hollow. Everything was wrong.
The shadow soul—gone.
Sakharam—vanished.
The police station—wrecked.
Inspector Mahadik—missing without a trace.
Rohan dropped his helmet onto the sofa and collapsed next to it. He didn't bother to change or clean up. His body ached, but his mind screamed louder. Sleep came not from peace, but from exhaustion.
Phone rings.
He jolted awake. 10:42 a.m.
"Rohan sir?" Constable Raju's voice came through, urgent, breathless.
"We've got something—Mahadik sir's phone pinged. We have a location. The team is gearing up. Suryavanshi sir wants you with us."
Rohan was on his feet before the sentence finished.
He grabbed his jacket, checked for the photo of Sakharam in his wallet, and headed down the stairs.
The streets were still soaked in night. He fired up his bike.
This wasn't over. Not even close.
Location: Nive Village, Near Poladpur – 4:50 PM
Rohan and Constable Raju arrived at the small, fog-wrapped Panchgani Police Station, carrying Suryavanshi's signed order. The officer-in-charge barely glanced before nodding.
Within minutes, they were equipped with a jeep, two local constables, and a vague map.
The last trace of Inspector Mahadik's phone had pinged from Nive village, nestled deep between hills and half-forgotten roads.
By 4:50 PM, they rolled into the area—remote, quiet, unnervingly still.
The team split up.
Rohan moved with one of the locals, a silent man with sharp eyes.
Constable Raju took the other with him, each carrying photographs of Sakharam and Inspector Mahadik, asking around the scattered huts, small vendors, and aged homes.
Time dragged.
The villagers shook their heads. Some barely opened their doors. Others just stared, unblinking.
By 7:00 PM, the sun dropped behind the hills. The village faded into dusk, with no clue, no voice, no witness.
Only growing silence.
Rohan stood on a slope above the last cluster of homes, looking out.
The wind picked up. The last light vanished.
His fists clenched.
Something was hiding. Or someone was hiding them.
And night was just beginning.
7:20 PM – Beside the Police Jeep, Nive Village
Constable Raju returned to the jeep, brushing the dust from his uniform, his face drawn and tired.
Raju:
"Sir, nothing. We asked house to house—no one knows Sakharam. They've never even heard of Inspector Mahadik."
Rohan leaned against the hood of the jeep, silent, eyes scanning the fading light across the village fields. The sun had dipped low, shadows growing long.
Raju (softly):
"Feels like a dead end."
Rohan was still. Thinking.
Rohan (quietly):
"This place... it doesn't belong to Sakharam. And Mahadik has no ties here either."
Raju looked at him, confused.
Raju:
"Then why did his phone signal lead us here?"
Rohan's mind turned over the pieces. Something didn't add up. And then—
Rohan (thinking aloud):
"Unless... it's not about them."
He reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and opened a picture—Kadambari Galve.
They began showing the photo to locals—one by one. Most shook their heads. A few paused, uncertain.
Then an elderly man, frail and wrapped in a worn shawl, stepped forward slowly.
Old Man:
"Her... yes. She was born here. Grew up in this village. Kadambari. But she hasn't been seen in years."
Rohan's eyes narrowed.
Rohan (to himself):
"This is her home."
7:30 PM – Nive Village, Beside the Jeep
Constable Raju stepped closer, his brow furrowed.
Raju:
"Sir, this isn't her case. Kadambari is dead. We recovered her body. We're here for Sakharam—and for Inspector Mahadik, who's gone missing."
Rohan didn't respond immediately. He kept staring at the photo on his phone. The eyes in that picture still seemed to follow him—pleading, waiting.
Rohan (firmly):
"I know what you're saying, Raju. But trust me—none of them have seen what I've seen. Sakharam... Mahadik... they're caught in something beyond reports and files."
Raju didn't argue further but stayed tense.
Rohan turned to the old man nearby.
Rohan:
"Where is her house? Kadambari's family home?"
The old man raised a trembling hand and pointed toward a narrow dirt road disappearing into thickening jungle.
Old Man:
"That road goes into the forest. Two to three kilometers in... there's an old farmhouse. Abandoned. It belonged to her family."
Without another word, the old man turned and walked away, his steps slow but sure.
Rohan stared down that path—dark, silent, and overgrown. A place long forgotten.
Rohan (quietly, to himself):
"Then that's where we go next."
Present — Inside the Abandoned Farmhouse
Rohan rose slowly from the muddy floor, his clothes soaked and torn, eyes locked on Inspector Mahadik—whose face was expressionless, eyes turned ghostly white with possession.
Rohan (calm but firm):
"What's the point of all this?"
Silence.
Mahadik began to descend the stairs, one deliberate step at a time, never breaking eye contact.
Rohan (louder):
"We had a pact. You broke it."
Still no response.
Rohan braced himself.
Suddenly, Mahadik lunged—inhumanly fast—leaping across the room and crashing into Rohan with violent force. Rohan blocked the first blow and countered, landing a solid strike that sent Mahadik stumbling. But the possessed inspector quickly recovered and landed a punch square on Rohan's jaw, sending him to the floor.
A whisper followed, cold and cruel:
Voice (from Mahadik):
"Where is your shadow soul now?"
Rohan, blood on his lip, smirked.
Rohan:
"That's a question you should be answering."
He stood again, slower this time, but with burning resolve.
Rohan:
"You think I'm weak without him? I'm still strong enough."
Rohan clenched his fists and focused. The air shifted. The shadows around him stirred.
With a deep breath, he summoned the power the white witch had awakened within him—his soul command. Energy surged through his arms. He reached out, forcing control over the possessed Mahadik.
Mahadik's expression twisted in surprise.
Rohan (commanding):
"Out of him!"
He hurled Mahadik backward with an invisible force, slamming him against the wall. Before the spirit could recover, Rohan stepped forward, raised both arms, and unleashed a gust of spiritual energy—sharp, fast, and violent.
A shockwave blasted across the room, hitting Mahadik dead on.
The spirit now hovered above Mahadik's unconscious body, an amorphous dark mass with flickers of light swirling in its core. It stared directly at Rohan—curious, almost amused.
Spirit (whispering):
"How...?"
Rohan (standing firm):
"Where is Sakharam? What did you do to him?"
The whisper deepened, colder now.
Spirit:
"He is required."
Rohan (pressing):
"Required? For what? Revenge?"
The spirit's tone sharpened.
Spirit:
"The rituals must be completed."
Rohan clenched his fists, energy gathering into his palms, glowing faintly with a blue-white light. He stood ready.
Suddenly, the spirit vanished, disappearing into the air like smoke.
Rohan's eyes narrowed. He spun around just in time to release a burst of soul energy at the reappearing figure—whoosh!—but the spirit was quicker. It vanished again.
Before Rohan could regain his stance, the spirit reappeared behind him and slammed into his back with immense force. Rohan was hurled through the air and crashed face-first into a tree, bark cracking on impact.
He fell hard to the ground, dazed, blood dripping from a cut near his eye.
The wind howled.
The spirit hovered again—silent, watching.
Rohan gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, breath ragged, fists trembling.
This wasn't over.
Interior – Abandoned Farmhouse – 11:40 PM
Rain lashes against the broken windows. The house groans under the weight of time and decay.
Constable Raju bursts through the front door, flashlight slicing through the darkness. His boots splash through water pooled on the cracked floor. He freezes—eyes locking on a figure slumped in the corner.
Raju:
"Sakharam?"
He rushes over. Sakharam is bound with thick, frayed rope, bruised and barely conscious.
Raju (untying him):
"Hang in there. I've got you."
Sakharam coughs, eyes wide with terror.
Sakharam (urgent):
"She's doing it again. The ritual—it's not what you think. Kadambari… she wasn't a good woman. She practiced black magic. She—"
Before he could finish, a violent force slammed Raju across the room. He crashed into the wall, collapsing in a heap.
A chilling silence followed.
Sakharam looked up—and there she was.
The spirit of Kadambari.
Glowing faintly, her form flickering with unholy energy. She hovered inches above the floor, her presence cold and suffocating.
Sakharam (trembling with rage):
"You monster... You killed our child—used her in that vile ritual. Just to gain wealth."
Kadambari's Whisper (mocking laughter):
"If I had become rich, I could've made more children—dozens, if I wished."
Sakharam (clenched fists):
"Your greed took your life."
Kadambari's Whisper (grinning):
"That's why I need another body now… yours."
She moved closer—without touching him. Sakharam's body lifted off the floor, limbs rigid, neck pulled back by an invisible force.
His eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe.
Kadambari began chanting.
An ancient, guttural incantation filled the air, echoing through the walls. Her soul began merging with his body—bit by bit.
Outside, the moonless night turned darker still.
The ritual had begun.