Karan stood motionless in front of his house.
A dense crowd had gathered around him, faces hidden beneath a strange black smoke that clung to their skin like shadows.
He couldn't see a single expression—only blurred outlines of people whispering, judging, accusing.
"Wh… what is this place? Who are these people?" he muttered under his breath.
Before he could take a step back, several hands shot out from the crowd. Rough palms gripped his arms and legs, pinning him in place. His heart pounded. The air felt thick, suffocating.
"This is all your fault," someone growled.
Another voice followed. Then another.
"Why did you want to become powerful?"
"Because of you, everything is ruined!"
"Die… just die!"
The chant spread through the crowd like a curse.
Die… die… die…
"Cough—sh… shit," Karan gasped, forcing the hands away from his throat. "I need to get out of here!"
With every ounce of strength, he pushed against them, tearing free from their grip.
His legs trembled as he stumbled toward his house, running through the mist.
Creak… Slam!
He burst through the door, panting heavily.
"Huff… huff…"
He collapsed to the floor, sweat soaking through his shirt. His entire body burned, as if fire had been lit beneath his skin. With shaking hands, he wiped the sweat from his face and neck.
"What… what's happening to me?" he whispered.
Pushing himself up, he took slow, unsteady steps deeper into the house.
"Mom? Priya? Where are you?"
No reply.
"Mo—" he began, but the word died in his throat.
His eyes froze on the sight before him.
His mother hung from the ceiling fan, a bedsheet twisted tightly around her neck.
Her eyes were wide open—lifeless, glassy, unblinking.
Her tongue jutted out, swollen and dark, and the faint trail of saliva running down her chin had already dried.
It was the kind of scene that shattered the soul.
Karan's knees gave way. He fell to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. His mind went blank. His chest felt heavy, his throat closed up. No words came—only tears that blurred his vision.
Then he heard it.
Thak… thak… thak…
Footsteps echoed from behind him—slow, heavy, deliberate. The house was silent except for that sound.
Karan pressed his palm to the floor and struggled to stand. His whole body shook as he turned toward the sound.
A figure stood in the darkness, half-hidden by shadow.
"Who… who's there?" he stammered.
The figure stepped forward. The dim light from the window fell upon its face, and Karan's breath stopped.
It was his father.
Ramesh's body was drenched in blood. In one hand, he held a knife. In the other—gripped by the hair—was a severed head. The head of Aarush, Karan's brother-in-law.
Karan's world shattered in an instant.
"F… Father," he whispered, voice trembling. "Why?"
His lips quivered as he spoke. His eyes, swollen from tears, could barely focus.
His father stared back with hollow eyes, a faint, twisted smile on his face.
"You're asking why?" Ramesh said, stepping closer. "This is all because of you, Karan."
Karan stumbled backward until his shoulder hit the wall. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
"Because of me?" he choked out.
Ramesh's voice deepened, dark and heavy. "You wanted to be a hero. But what about your family, Karan? Your mother died because she didn't want you to walk this path."
Sweat and fear drenched Karan's face. His mouth opened to speak, but before he could, another voice cut through the silence.
"Yes, Karan. This is your fault."
Karan's blood turned to ice.
His mother—the woman who had been hanging from the fan—was speaking. Her body still dangled lifelessly, yet her lips moved. Her voice was cold, broken, and filled with hatred.
"No…" Karan stumbled forward and untied the bedsheet, catching her in his arms.
He held her tremblingly, his voice cracking. "Mom… why are you saying that? What did I do wrong?"
Her eyes met his. The tenderness they once held was gone. Now they glowed with madness.
"Everything fell apart because of you. From the moment you were born, misfortune followed. You destroyed this family, Karan. And now… death is the only thing left."
She laughed—a cruel, hysterical sound that echoed through the room.
Karan broke down completely. His tears fell onto her face, each drop mixing with the dried blood on her skin.
"Please… stop…" he whispered.
But she only repeated the same words, over and over.
It's your fault.
Then came another voice.
"Karan."
He turned sharply. His sister, Priya, stood by the doorway. In her small hands, she held a steel container filled with petrol. Her expression was blank—emotionless.
"Priya?" Karan's voice cracked.
She didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on their father.
"Why did you want power, brother?" she asked softly. "You could have stayed happy with us. But you chose this. You chose destruction."
She began walking toward Ramesh, unscrewing the container's lid.
A harsh chemical smell filled the air as petrol splashed over his blood-soaked clothes.
Karan stood frozen. He couldn't feel his body anymore. His senses had gone numb. All he could hear was the echo of those same cursed words—
It's your fault.
The smell of LPG gas filled the house, mixing with the stench of blood and sweat.
He didn't even notice.
Priya emptied the last of the petrol onto her father. The floor was slick, shining under the faint light.
And then—Karan laughed.
At first, it was a broken chuckle. Then it grew louder.
"Haha… haha… hahahaha!"
He clutched his face, his laughter twisting into something monstrous.
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he laughed harder, shaking, trembling. His face was a mix of agony and madness.
The voices wouldn't stop.
It's your fault.
You killed us.
You're the stain that can never be erased.
Ramesh stepped closer again, his voice a demonic whisper.
"You wanted to be a hero, Karan? You wanted power? Then remember this—your mother, your sister, your brother-in-law… all died because of you."
Karan's body shuddered violently.
"No… please, Father. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… please…"
Ramesh's voice rose, thundering through the burning air.
"You're a stain—a curse upon this family! Wherever you go, destruction follows. You are not our pride… you are our punishment!"
Then, in a chilling unison, his mother, sister, and father all spoke together.
"You killed Ayra too. Remember? The one who loved you. She died because of you."
Karan's breath stopped. His mind screamed, but no sound came out.
He fell to his knees, clutching his head. "No… please… stop…"
Then—softly, gently—a familiar voice drifted through the chaos.
"Hey, stupid. No matter what anyone says… I'm with you."
Karan's eyes widened.
That voice.
Ayra's voice.
He turned toward the sound, stumbling toward the door.
"Ayra!" he shouted. "Where are you?"
He burst out of the house, into the night.
And behind him—
BOOOOM!
The house exploded in a violent flash of flame and smoke.
Heat scorched the air. Burning debris scattered like meteors. The screams of his family mixed with the roar of fire.
Karan fell to his knees in the dirt, staring at the inferno that was once his home.
The fire painted the night sky red. The voices echoed even now, carried by the wind.
This is your fault, Karan.
Because of you, we all died.
He pressed his palms to his ears, screaming.
"NOOOO! AHHHHH!"
His cries were drowned by the crackling flames.
The air trembled with heat. The house collapsed in on itself, sparks dancing like the last breaths of the dead.
And through the fire, through the smoke, the words came again—whispered like a curse:
"You're a hero, Karan…"
"A hero born from the ashes of his own sins."