Chapter 81: The Devil's Game
The sun barely peeked through the heavy clouds when strange reports began trickling in from the village. A woman had woken up to find her newborn gone. An old man claimed his reflection no longer matched his movements in the mirror. Several villagers whispered of whispers—soft, haunting voices that coaxed them into doing things they'd never dare in the light of day.
Elara and Ariella moved through the village with weary steps, helping where they could, but the unease was thick and clinging. Something was wrong—more than wrong. And they knew the source: Laxman.
"He's not just a servant," Ariella muttered. "He's playing a game. A dark, twisted one."
They regrouped with Percy behind the old granary. His face was pale, lips pressed into a tight line. "People are turning on each other. They think you're the curse," he said. "Someone accused a woman of being a witch and tried to burn her hut."
"That's him," Elara said, her jaw tight. "He's sowing fear. He's breaking them apart from the inside."
But they didn't realize just how deep his poison had already seeped.
By evening, everything shattered.
Shouts echoed down the narrow village paths. Flames crackled, smoke rising in furious black columns. Elara and Ariella raced through the chaos only to find their homes engulfed in fire. Villagers stood nearby, holding torches and hurling accusations.
"There! Burn the witches!" someone screamed. "They brought this evil here!"
"No—please, my mother's still inside!" Ariella cried, sprinting toward the flames, but Percy held her back as the roof collapsed in a thunderous roar.
The fire had consumed the Johnsons' house. Her mother, Mrs. Johnson, hadn't made it out.
Ariella dropped to her knees, trembling as her world unraveled. "No… no, no…" Tears streamed down her face, and she barely registered Elara falling beside her, arms wrapped around her.
"Elara's parents escaped," Percy said quietly. "Burned, but alive. Your mother… I'm so sorry."
The girl who had once stood fearless against monsters now looked small, broken. Ariella's voice cracked. "What if they're right? What if we are cursed? What if we're not strong enough to win this?"
Elara grabbed her by the shoulders. "No. Don't you dare think like that. Your mother died because of him—Laxman. And I swear to you, Ariella, we'll make him pay. We'll burn that shadow out of this village. For her. For all of them."
The villagers didn't stop with the fire. Their eyes were wild, rabid with fear and hatred. Words of reason slipped from their grasp, replaced by superstition and blind trust in a devil's disguise.
The village elders tried to intervene. Uncle Jonathan stood before the crowd, his voice raised in desperation.
"These girls saved us once!" he shouted. "They nearly died fighting the Shrouded One to protect every soul here. And this is how we repay them?"
But his words fell on deaf ears.
"They brought this madness!" a woman screamed. "Ever since they returned, nothing's been the same!"
"She's right!" another shouted. "They walk with Queens and see visions! That's not natural!"
Laxman's manipulation had worked too well.
And then he appeared.
With grace and poise, Laxman stepped forward, dressed in a pristine coat that glinted faintly with silver thread, eyes gleaming with faux concern.
"My heart aches at your suffering," he said smoothly, addressing the crowd. "But fear not. There is a way out of this. I have the power to cleanse this village. Peace can return—if you let me help you."
A murmur of awe rippled through the villagers.
"Liar!" Elara spat, stepping forward. "You came here, and that's when the nightmares began! You're the one behind this!"
"He's manipulating you!" Ariella added, her voice raw and trembling. "He's the servant of the true evil—the Shadow!"
But no one listened. Not anymore.
Uncle Jonathan turned to Laxman, squinting with doubt. "How can someone so young, so polished, be aligned with something as foul as the devil?"
Laxman smiled, unfazed. "Sometimes, the devil wears a crown of light. And sometimes, salvation comes from unexpected hands."
He turned to the crowd again. "You have three days. Three days to come to me willingly. After that, my offer to save this village expires."
He looked at the girls only once, eyes cold and sharp like obsidian. He didn't speak to them. He didn't need to.
He had already won the crowd.
And with a graceful turn, he disappeared into the thickening mist, leaving behind smoke, sorrow, and a village ready to burn itself from within.