Part One: The Killer on the Loose
The old mansion stood at the edge of the village, wrapped in silence and memories. Its walls had seen generations pass, laughter fade, and sorrow settle like dust in forgotten corners. Inside, under the dim glow of an oil lamp, a frail old woman sat on a wooden chair, her silver hair tied neatly behind her head.
Beside her, curled up on a thin mattress, was a young boy—Athil.
Athil had lost everything too early in life. His parents were gone, taken away in a sudden car accident that left behind only questions and silence. Now, the mansion and his grandmother were all he had.
Every night, without fail, his grandmother would tell him stories.
Stories of gods and devils.
"Once," she began, her voice soft but steady, "there was a hero chosen by the gods. A man blessed with divine power. He fought against a terrible devil who brought pain and suffering to innocent people…"
Athil listened quietly, his eyes fixed on the flickering lamp.
"The devil was cruel," she continued. "He loved chaos, loved fear. But the hero—guided by the gods—defeated him and saved everyone."
Athil didn't smile like most children would. He didn't feel comfort.
Instead, he asked quietly, "Why is the devil evil, Ammamma?"
His grandmother paused.
"Why does he hurt people?" Athil continued, his voice trembling slightly. "Why does he enjoy it?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"And… if God is all powerful… can I see him?" Athil whispered. "Will he bring back my mother and father?"
The room fell silent.
The old woman gently placed her hand on his head, but she had no answers. Only stories.
Athil closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come easily. His mind wandered through questions that felt too heavy for his age.
Why does evil exist?
Why doesn't God stop it?
And if God can do anything… why didn't he save them?
⸻
Far away from the quiet village, the city breathed a different kind of life.
It was midnight.
The outskirts were nearly empty, with only flickering streetlights and distant noises breaking the silence. Two drunken men staggered down the road, laughing loudly, singing off-key songs, and dancing like the world belonged to them.
"Brother," one slurred, "we are kings tonight!"
Their laughter echoed through the empty street—until it didn't.
One of them stopped.
"Hey… look."
Standing under a dim streetlight was a girl.
She didn't belong there.
She was young, foreign, with long flowing hair and a sharp, striking face. She stood completely still… talking to thin air.
"There's no one there…" one man whispered.
But she kept talking.
Softly. Calmly. As if someone stood right in front of her.
Then suddenly—
She moved.
At first slowly… then faster.
Her steps became unnatural. Her body leaned forward like a predator locking onto prey.
Before the men could react, a small knife appeared in her hand—as if it had come out of nowhere.
In one swift motion—
She stabbed.
The blade pierced straight into one man's heart.
He didn't even have time to scream.
The knife… absorbed the blood.
It wasn't normal.
It drank it.
A faint glow began to pulse from the blade.
The girl's lips curled into a smile.
"More power…" she whispered.
Then she laughed.
Not like a human.
Like something wild.
The second man stumbled back in horror, his body frozen with fear.
She turned toward him—but instead of chasing, she began stabbing the corpse again.
And again.
And again.
"More blood…" she roared. "More power!"
Her voice echoed like a beast's cry.
The man ran.
He ran without looking back, his heart pounding like it would explode. He reached a small roadside shop where a few men sat talking.
"She—she killed him!" he shouted. "A girl—she—she's not human!"
The shop owner, shaken, quickly picked up the phone and called the police.
⸻
At the police station, the phone rang.
A man picked it up.
He wasn't in uniform.
Instead, he wore a long blue coat. His build was strong, his posture calm—but there was something unusual about him. Something sharp. Observant.
"What happened?" he asked.
The shop owner explained everything—the girl, the attack, the terrified witness.
The man listened carefully.
"Location?" he asked.
After noting the details, he hung up.
He turned toward another officer standing nearby.
A name badge read: Sergeant Nikhil.
"Another case reported," the man said quietly. "Same pattern."
Nikhil's expression darkened.
"So… it's happening again."
⸻
Back at the city outskirts, the girl walked alone.
She looked… happy.
She giggled to herself, whispering as if someone walked beside her.
Then—
She stopped.
Footsteps.
Slow. Calm. Intentional.
She turned.
A man approached from the darkness.
He was dressed entirely in black. A long knife rested across his back. His presence felt heavy—like the air itself resisted him.
There was something deeply unsettling about him.
He looked at her.
"Rouselle."
She smiled instantly.
He stepped closer.
"The game will begin soon," he said.
His voice was low… almost amused.
Rouselle tilted her head, her smile widening into something dangerous.
He smiled back—not kindly, but like a hunter waiting for the next kill.
Then—
He disappeared.
Just like that.
Gone.
Rouselle stood still for a moment… then slowly pulled out her knife.
She kissed it gently.
"Oh my baby…" she whispered. "It's going to be feeding time."
She hid it back in her pocket and began walking again.
Around her—
Something dark moved.
Not visible… but present.
A black, suffocating malice wrapped around her like a shadow that refused to leave.
And somewhere far away…
A boy named Athil lay awake, questioning gods and devils—
Unaware…
That both had already begun to move.
⸻
End of Chapter One: The Killer on the Loose