Kartik had grown used to waking up with his heart pounding. Most nights, sleep offered no rest—only another battle with the nightmares that had haunted him since childhood.
He was twenty-one now, a final-year college student in Delhi, sharing a cramped rented room with cracked walls and peeling paint. By day, he blended in—laughing at jokes he barely heard, scribbling notes in lectures, pretending the dark circles under his eyes were from late-night study sessions. But by
night, everything changed.
Tonight was no different.
As Kartik drifted into uneasy sleep, the nightmare returned, sharp and vivid as ever.
Screams split the air—raw, desperate cries. Fire raged through narrow streets, turning wood and flesh to ash. Kartik, barely a child in the vision, stood frozen, chest heaving as he watched people trampled underfoot, their bodies lost in the swirling smoke. Through the chaos, he saw his parents, hands
outstretched toward him, faces twisted with fear—then swallowed by the stampede, gone forever.
Before the grief could settle, something worse emerged: a tall, jerky figure with curved nails and jagged teeth, its skin stretched thin like rotting cloth. It moved with unnatural speed, raising an arm to strike.
Kartik tried to run—but darkness swallowed the scene.
In that darkness, only one thing remained: a single, cold, ancient eye staring deep into his soul. It felt older than the stars, patient and staring.
The vision twisted again—flames consuming a whole village, leaving nothing but blackened ruin.
Kartik woke with a strangled gasp, breath tearing through his lungs. Sweat clung to his skin, chilling him despite the summer heat. For a moment, he lay still, eyes wide in the darkness of his small room. His heart pounded like a war drum.
"Why every night?" he whispered, voice cracking. "What do you want from me?"
Anger surged. He threw his pillow across the room, but it thudded harmlessly against the wall. Kartik ran a shaking hand through his messy hair, trying to steady himself. "I'm losing my mind," he muttered. "Maybe I do need help. A psychiatrist, at least."
Outside, the city lay quiet. Neon lights flickered on distant buildings. Somewhere in the dark, stray dogs barked at shadows. Kartik stepped onto the narrow balcony, gripping the rusty railing. Beyond the city
limits stretched jungles and forgotten temples—places steeped in old stories, places his grandparents once told him about.
For a moment, Kartik felt something in that darkness watching him. A cold shiver ran down his spine, but when he blinked, there was nothing there.
Days later, Kartik found himself on a college trip he'd almost skipped. His friend Ravi, always the loudest in their group, had insisted:
"Come on, bro! You need a break. New place, old ruins—what could go wrong?"
Their bus rattled along dusty roads, carrying twenty students toward a barely known temple site deep in the jungle. Kartik leaned his forehead against the window, exhaustion dragging at him. Laughter and teasing floated around him, but he felt like a ghost drifting through it all.
Eventually, sleep claimed him again—and so did the nightmare.
The same burning village. The same monstrous figure. But this time, something new: Kartik saw himself lying lifeless on the ground, a strange mark scorched into his chest dark as midnight.
He woke with a start, chest tight, breath ragged. Sweat plastered his shirt to his back, and he caught Ravi staring at him.
"You good, bro?" Ravi asked, worry slipping through his usual grin.
"Yeah. Just… bad dreams haha exactly a bad dream.
At the site, an older guide with a limp led them through a narrow jungle path. Birds screeched overhead; tangled roots clawed at the trail. The guide's voice was low, almost as if he feared being overheard.
"Stay on the marked path," he warned. "This jungle has swallowed people before. And the cave ahead— it gets unbearably hot. Don't stay too long inside."
But curiosity is stubborn, especially when mixed with youth.
Ravi chuckled, nudging Kartik. "Bro, bet it's not even that scary."
Kartik tried to laugh, but a heaviness settled in his chest. Each step felt harder, as if the jungle itself weighed on his shoulders.
They reached the cave—a jagged mouth in a moss-covered rock face. The air inside felt thick and heavy, clinging to their skin. Shadows danced on the rough stone walls, whisper-like echoes curling through the heat.
"Just air moving," Ravi said, though his voice held a tremor.
As they pushed deeper, Kartik noticed a faint scent of sandalwood—out of place among the damp stones. And there, hidden in a darker corner, stood a strange stone: cracked with age, shaped like a big ancient egg. It was bigger than all the students and looked mysterious.
The cave felt like an oven, yet the stone looked untouched by time.
One of the girls in the group, Nisha, reached out first. "It's cold!" she gasped, pulling back her hand.
"Try it, Kartik," Ravi urged. "See for yourself."
Kartik's chest tightened. Every instinct screamed to turn and run—but pride and fear of ridicule pushed him forward.
The instant his fingers brushed the stone, pain lanced through his chest—sharp, burning, alive. His vision darkened, and the nightmare exploded around him:
Warriors with glowing marks on their skin clashed against twisted monsters. Energy crackled around swords; claws slashed through the air. Kartik saw colossal beings—part man, part something else—each
strike shaking the ground. Roars split the air, drowning out thought.
And through it all, the same ancient eye stared at him, colder than death.
Fear, awe, and something deeper—a connection he couldn't name—flooded through him before the darkness swallowed him whole.
Kartik awoke to Ravi shaking him, panic on his face. Other students hovered nearby, voices overlapping:
"Bro, say something!"
"Must be the heat…"
"Long trek, that's all."
Kartik forced a weak nod. "Yeah… probably the heat."
But pain still pulsed deep under his ribs like a smoldering ember.
On the hike back, Kartik couldn't stop glancing over his shoulder, sure something unseen followed— silent, patient.
That night, back in his room, Kartik sat on the edge of his narrow bed, breath shallow. A dull ache tugged at his chest. Hands shaking, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the fabric aside.
There, faint but unmistakable, lay a mark: a closed eye, etched into his skin as if by fire.
The sight chilled him more than the deepest cave ever could.
As Kartik stared at the mark, trying to understand what had really happened, he suddenly heard a voice behind him whisper his name.
Whatever marked me in that cave, it isn't finished.
And deep down, I fear it's only just beginning.
Note - If you enjoyed this chapter, please remember to vote with a power stone and add to your library — it really helps keep Kartik's journey going!
And don't forget to leave a comment — I'd love to hear what you think!🔥