Inside the red gate, darkness swallowed everything. Bhairava could see nothing only the chill of water beneath his feet guided him forward. Each step echoed faintly, as if the silence itself were listening.
Then, slowly, the water began to glow. A soft blue light spread across the ground, stretching as far as his eyes could reach. The glow shimmered like liquid glass, endless and surreal. Bhairava walked straight, his breath uneven. "What is this place?" he wondered, his voice trembling in the void.
After some time, a sound stirred. Whispering. Faint at first, then sharper, curling into his mind. He spun around, searching, but no one was there. Even when he pressed his hands against his ears, the whispers continued inside his head, relentless.
"What is happening here? This is just like yesterday… what is this?" His thoughts tangled with fear.
And then, silence. The whispers stopped.
Bhairava lowered his hands and looked upward—and froze. A massive shadow loomed in the sky, its form indistinct yet terrifying. It was staring directly at him. The shadow grew larger, descending closer, until its face met his gaze.
Fear overwhelmed him. His knees buckled, and he sank into the glowing water, trembling. In an instant, the shadow vanished, leaving only emptiness.
His hand pressed against the watery floor as he sat down, trembling. Suddenly, the surface began to move—rippling, rushing, faster and faster. The blue glow shifted, twisting into new colors, as if the entire ground was alive.
From the distance, a piercing white light appeared. It grew brighter, racing toward him, until it swept past in a blinding flash.
Bhairava jolted awake, gasping for breath, sweat clinging to his skin. His chest heaved as he whispered, "It's already morning?"
Sunlight spilled into his room, warm and steady, so different from the chaos of the dream. He looked around, trying to calm himself, then pushed the bedsheet aside and stumbled into the washroom.
He opened the tap, filled his hands with cold water, and splashed it across his face. Droplets slid down his cheeks as he stared into the mirror.
"Why am I getting these strange dreams? Lucid dreams are supposed to be controllable… but I couldn't control it. What was that huge gate?"
He leaned closer, studying his reflection, then splashed water again. But as he lifted his gaze, something flickered in the mirror.
A shadow.
It darted across the bathroom behind him swift, silent, gone in an instant.
His heart lurched. He spun around, scanning the corners, the tiled walls, the faint light spilling in. Nothing.
Slowly, he stepped forward, his voice low and uncertain. "Who is there?"
Bhairava's thoughts raced. "Is there a thief?"
He pulled open the bathroom door, his breath sharp, but the room was empty. Just silence. Then suddenly he felt movement behind him, quick and fleeting. He spun instantly, heart pounding.
"Who is there?" His voice cracked with fear, his chest tightening as he scanned every corner. Nothing.
Slowly, he stepped out of the washroom, his pulse hammering in his ears. "Whoever you are," he said, forcing his voice to sound firm, "you've entered the wrong house. You will regret this."
He moved cautiously into his bedroom. The sunlight poured in, but the emptiness felt unnatural, heavy. He grabbed a stick, clutching it tightly, and approached the cupboard with high alert.
One hand gripped the stick; the other reached for the door. He yanked it open, ready to strike at the slightest movement.
But the cupboard was empty.
Bhairava finally felt a little relief. He lowered the stick in his hand and let out a shaky breath. But when he turned, his heart froze. A figure stood there—covered completely in black cloth, with a hood hiding its face.
Fear shot through him. Without thinking, his reflexes took over and he swung the stick at the figure. But before the stick could land, the figure vanished into thin air.
Bhairava's chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room, searching every corner. Nothing. The room was empty. Suddenly, the objects on the table fell to the floor, as if someone had pushed them away. The sound echoed, and it felt like something was moving inside the walls, low and unsettling.
Gripping the stick tightly, Bhairava followed the strange movement, his eyes sharp and his body tense. He was ready to fight. The shadow inside the wall seemed to move closer, coming straight toward him. He prepared to strike but just as it reached him - it disappeared.
Confusion clouded his mind. "What is happening here? A dream? No… I saw my reflection in the mirror. If it was a dream, that wouldn't happen."
He stayed alert, scanning the room for any sign of movement. For a moment, everything was still. Then, without warning, the hooded figure appeared right in front of him. Its face was hidden deep inside the hood, nothing visible but darkness.
Bhairava froze, stunned, unsure of what to do. His hand trembled as he raised the stick.
He swung, but the figure caught it effortlessly, yanking it from his grasp. Bhairava refused to give up. He threw a punch, but the figure vanished and reappeared behind him in an instant. Before he could react, it grabbed him and shoved him down onto the bed.
Pinned to the bed, Bhairava struggled, but the hooded figure held his hand tightly. The grip was strong and real he could feel it. The figure leaned closer, its hood almost touching his face.
Bhairava's eyes widened. Inside the hood, a blinding white light suddenly appeared. It grew brighter and brighter until it filled his vision completely. The pain was unbearable. Bhairava screamed, his voice echoing through the room, as the light consumed him.
Bhairava jolted awake again, his chest rising and falling quickly. Sunlight poured into the room, warm and steady, but his breath was uneven. "What is happening?" he whispered, still panting.
He looked down at his hand, staring at it with disbelief. "I could feel it grabbing me. That was real. It couldn't have been just a dream… but then how am I here?"
Confusion clouded his mind. He lifted his eyes and froze.
A figure stood in front of him. Dressed completely in black, with a cap pulled low and a mask covering its face. Its eyes were hidden in the shadow of the cap, unmoving, silent, watching.
Bhairava's heart raced. He swallowed hard and asked, "Who are you?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, it vanished in an instant—only to reappear right in front of him. Before Bhairava could react, it grabbed both of his hands. His eyes widened, panic flooding him. He didn't know what was happening or what to do.
Just then, the door to his room creaked open. Shivani stepped inside.
The masked figure vanished instantly, leaving only empty air. Shivani looked at him, her hands moving quickly in sign language: "You're still in bed? It's getting late."
Bhairava blinked, his mind spinning. He glanced around the room everything looked normal, as if nothing had happened. He forced a small nod and said quietly, "I'll get ready now."
After Shivani left, Bhairava sat on the bed for a moment, staring at the floor. His thoughts spun in circles. "What is happening to me? Am I losing my mind? Is this the effect of lucid dreaming… or am I just hallucinating?"
He shook his head, trying to push the confusion away. He took a bath, dressed, and went downstairs. Breakfast was quiet, routine, almost comforting. After finishing, he got ready for college. Since Shivani was suspended, only Bhairava was leaving today. He waved goodbye to Shivani and stepped out with his cycle.
The morning air was fresh, the streets alive with the usual sounds. Bhairava pedalled forward, but his mind was still heavy with questions. "What if all of this is real? What if I'm not imagining it?"
As he rode, lost in thought, the figure suddenly appeared right in front of him black clothes, cap, mask, still and silent.
Startled, Bhairava swerved, lost his balance, and crashed to the ground. His pens and notebooks scattered across the road. He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding, eyes scanning the street.
But there was nothing. No figure. No shadow. Just the empty road and the sound of his cycle wheel spinning.
He stood there, breathing hard, and muttered to himself, "Again? I think I'm hallucinating."
Bhairava bent down to gather his scattered notes and pens from the road. Just then, his phone rang. He picked it up and saw Mano's name flashing on the screen. He was about to answer when a strange feeling washed over him—like someone was standing right behind him.
His instincts flared. He gripped a pen tightly, spun around, and thrust it forward with all his strength, aiming straight for the head of whoever was there.
But before the pen could land, a hand caught his wrist mid‑strike. The force stopped him cold.
Bhairava's eyes widened. It was the same figure the one he had seen earlier in his room. Dressed in black, face hidden under a mask and cap, eyes concealed in shadow.
He stared at his own hand, feeling the grip. It was solid, real. Not a dream. Not a hallucination. "This is not hallucination." He thought.
His breath quickened as he backed away, fear rising in his chest. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure gave no answer. Instead, it rushed forward suddenly, attacking with speed. Bhairava dodged, his heart pounding, but before he could react again, the masked man vanished only to reappear right in front of him.
With a powerful shove, the figure knocked Bhairava down. He hit the ground hard, his phone slipping from his hand and clattering beside him.
The masked man pinned him, sitting on top of him, and leaned close. Bhairava's eyes widened in shock as he stared into the figure's eyes.
From beneath the shadow of the cap, two piercing blue eyes glowed, locking onto his.
The figure spoke at last, its voice low and firm: "This is for good."
Suddenly, the masked man froze. Bhairava seized the chance—he snatched the pen from the ground and drove it into the man's hand. The masked figure looked down at the wound without a flicker of emotion, as if pain meant nothing.
With a burst of strength, Bhairava kicked him away and scrambled on top, pressing the figure down. His hands shook as he tried to pull off the mask, desperate to see the face beneath. "Who the hell are you?" he shouted, struggling against the man's grip.
The masked figure resisted, pushing back with force. Just as Bhairava was about to tear the mask away, the man slammed his fist into Bhairava's head. Pain shot through him, and he groaned, clutching his skull.
Still clutching the pen, Bhairava tried to stab again—but in an instant, the masked man vanished. He reappeared directly in front of Bhairava, lightning-fast, and seized the pen from his hand.
Before Bhairava could react, the figure drove the pen into his palm. Agony ripped through him, and he screamed, collapsing onto the road. His voice echoed as he writhed in pain.
The masked man stepped closer, his movements calm and deliberate. He grabbed Bhairava by the collar, pulling him up slightly, and locked his piercing blue eyes onto Bhairava's.
The voice came low, steady, almost regretful: "Sorry… I don't have any other choice. I have to do this."
Bhairava stared into the masked man's piercing eyes, his own scream tearing out uncontrollably. Suddenly, a blinding white glow burst between them. From within the light, the white raven appeared, wings spread wide, its presence overwhelming.
The masked man froze, his shock visible even through the shadows of his cap. In an instant, his body began to break apart shattering into tiny particles that scattered into the air. Within seconds, he was gone, erased from the world.
Bhairava collapsed to the ground, clutching his hand, groaning in pain. The raven stepped closer, its feathers glowing faintly. A voice echoed in his mind, calm yet firm: "You are not supposed to be here yet."
The words struck him like thunder. His vision blurred, and before he could respond, everything dissolved.
He jolted awake, gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his face. Sunlight poured into his room, warm and steady, but his chest heaved as if he had just escaped death. He looked around, tense, scanning every corner.
"Is this reality… or another dream?" he thought, uncertain.
He looked again, but nothing unusual appeared. Slowly, his breathing steadied. The memory of the white raven returned to him the way it had appeared in dream "You are not supposed to be here yet."
That memory convinced him this was real.
With that thought, Bhairava forced himself to relax. He pushed the bedsheet aside, ready to prepare for a regular day. But he had no idea what awaited him. The red gate from last night was not just a dream, it was the beginning of something that would change his life forever.
The reality he trusted was about to shatter. What felt like a normal day would soon twist into a nightmare.
The door creaked open. Shivani stepped inside, her hands moving quickly in sign language: "You're still in bed? It's getting late."