One day later.
Meera jolted awake, her chest rising and falling in short bursts. The dream still clung to her like smoke — people shouting, flames licking the night sky, and a girl screaming as she was burned alive in the ruins. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her damp bedsheet. It wasn't the first time she had woken this way, but today the terror felt heavier, like a shadow refusing to leave.
Far away, on a rough roadside ground outside Shimla, two jeeps pulled up against the drizzle. CBI Sub-Inspector Sanam Rana stepped out, adjusting his glasses, his boots sinking into the mud. Beside him, Inspector Vijay Singh barked orders at the constables, his deep voice echoing through the misty hills.
The landslide had unearthed a shallow grave. Two teenage boys lay half-covered in the loosened earth, their bodies pale and broken by time. Sanam crouched low, brushing away soil with the care of an archivist uncovering history. His sharp eyes caught what others had missed.
"Not a knife," he murmured to himself, tracing the thin gash at the throat. "Something else. The killer knew exactly where to cut — only one centimeter deep, right at the vein. Instant death."
He leaned closer, whispering almost like a student admiring the precision of his teacher's work. This one knows the human body too well.
Straightening, Sanam scanned the grave. "Look at the depth," he muttered under his breath. "Not buried properly. Either he was old… or in a hurry."
Vijay clicked his tongue, squinting at the rain-soaked ground. "Any evidence is gone. Heavy rains washed it clean. And this place is too rural — no witnesses." He waved his hand, ordering the constables. "Send the bodies for post-mortem."
Sanam lingered. Something nagged at him. His gaze dropped to the soil. There, tangled in the damp earth, were strands of dog hair. His heart quickened. A dog. The killer had one. That's why the soil was packed deeper in spots…
---
In town, Meera wandered along the bazaar lanes, her dream still whispering in the back of her mind. The air was filled with the scent of pine resin and the chatter of schoolchildren. She stopped, watching an elderly man bend over a group of students, helping them with their lessons. His wrinkled face glowed with patience, his voice soft yet steady. Even a year after retiring as a teacher, he was still the town's favorite mentor.
A passing woman whispered warmly to her, "He's like a father to everyone here."
Meera's lips curved into a faint smile. Memories stirred — or rather, fragments of them. Ten years ago, this same man had found her lying on the roadside after she fell from a mountain trail. She had woken in the hospital, her past erased, her identity scattered. With nowhere else to go, the old man had taken her in. Since then, she had cared for him as though he were family.
As the sun dipped behind the mountains, Meera walked home to prepare dinner, comforted by the quiet rhythm of their life.
---
By evening, the post-mortem report arrived. Vijay slammed the file onto the jeep's hood, his jaw tight. "The boys were late teens. Sexually assaulted — after death. No DNA traces left. And the murder weapon wasn't a knife. Glass. Just glass."
Sanam's hand tightened on the folder. "Glass… precise vein cut… no hesitation." His eyes darkened behind his lenses. "Whoever this is… he's not ordinary."
"If the landslide hadn't happened," Vijay muttered grimly, "those bodies would never have been found."
Sanam exhaled slowly, his mind already building theories. Another thread in a web no one else could see.
---
That night, at 9 p.m., Meera stood on the balcony terrace, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She often watched the stars, though she never knew why the ritual comforted her. Tonight, though, an odd restlessness stirred in her chest. Something is coming, she thought, unable to shake the unease.
Suddenly, the neighbor's dog bounded up the path, barking urgently. She hurried downstairs, to give treats to dog. Inside,he had already give leftover meat to dog. the old man sat watching the evening news The anchor's voice echoed: "Two bodies of teenage boys discovered near Shimla…"
The old man shook his head, eyes heavy with sorrow. "What's happening to this world, Meera? Not even boys are safe now. And what about people like me, with no family left? Who will protect us?"
Meera placed the plate of meat on the table, her voice gentle. "Forget that for now. First focus on your health, sir. That's why I'm here — to take care of you."
Her eyes softened. "By the way… has anyone found Amit yet? He's been missing two days."
A flicker of worry passed across the old man's face. "No. He was one of my brightest students. I truly admired him. I hope the police find him soon."
They shared a quiet meal before retreating to their rooms, the house falling into uneasy silence.
---
The next morning, Sanam and Vijay followed fresh leads to a small village near Shimla. where locals tell them that so many children had gone missing in past years, but the police haven't found them yet. On The other side of road , the dogs barked restlessly, echoing against the misty hills. Sanam adjusted his notebook, jotting small details, when a sudden bark grew louder.
Vijay turned his head, frowning. A mongrel was scratching furiously at the roadside dirt. As Vijay moved closer, the dog growled and backed away. Something glinted in the mud.
Vijay crouched. His stomach tightened.
There, lying half-buried in the damp earth, was a human ear.
The marketplace was loud that afternoon, but the sudden wail of a police siren cut through the noise. Shopkeepers abandoned their stalls, people rushed toward the commotion, and whispers spread like fire.
Meera balanced a tray of tea in her hands as she walked toward Ravi Singh's room. He was hosting one of his old school students, and she was expected to serve them silently, like always. But when she glanced down the street, her steps faltered.
A crowd had gathered near the roadside. Police uniforms flashed between the chaos, and the air buzzed with panic.
Her breath hitched. Not again… The noise, the shouting—it was too familiar. A memory forced itself into her mind: a young girl crouched in the dirt, carefully drawing stars and lunar mansions with a stick. Then—shadows, a woman's angry voice. "Wasting time again? You'll never be a good wife! Household first, foolish girl!" The blows fell hard, smearing the stars in the soil until only tears remained.
Meera blinked rapidly, the tray trembling in her hands. She forced the memory down and tried to steady herself, but her curiosity wouldn't let her turn away. Carefully, she placed the tray on the windowsill and went down the steps, slipping into the crowd.
That's when she saw him.
Among the chaos stood a man who looked out of place—not tall, not imposing, but calm. A lean figure with a baby face, standing in a lazy posture as if the noise around him didn't matter. His eyes, however, missed nothing; he was quietly studying the scene.
Her gaze lingered. Who is he?
Closer to the center, Inspector Vijay Singh crouched near the ground, staring at something covered with cloth. He straightened, his voice sharp.
"It feels like… multiple bodies," Vijay muttered.
The calm man beside him—Sanam Rana—adjusted his glasses and replied in a soft but certain tone.
"Yes. These are many bodies. And if I'm right… people here are used to seeing dogs fight over scraps of meat. Which means the killer has fed dogs human flesh before. That tells us one thing—the killer is local."
Vijay let out a mocking laugh. "Hah! Local, is it? You're always overthinking, Sanam."
Sanam didn't respond. His expression remained neutral, but inside, he knew he was right.
The forensic team swarmed the site, collecting remains as the crowd murmured in horror.
---
The next day, Sanam returned to town alone. He wandered through narrow streets, scanning walls plastered with faded posters. One after another, they showed the same thing—missing boys. Teenagers. Students.
Sanam's brows furrowed. All victims are students… all boys. And not kidnapped by force. If they had been, someone would have noticed because this place is not so big area. No—the killer was someone they trusted. Someone who lured them easily.
A faint smile touched his lips. "So that means I don't have to work much. Just tonight, the case is solved." His voice was low, almost relieved. "Then I can finally focus on the Artist of Blood."
---
That night, the Singh household was quiet. Meera sat inside, finishing her chores. The silence broke with a faint thud from the storage room.
She froze. A cold dread slid down her spine. The sound was ordinary—wood creaking, something shifting—but it awoke the ghost of her past. Don't go, Meera. Curiosity only brings pain. Remember?
A memory sharpened: a girl's hand tracing constellations in soil, then a blow so hard it blurred her vision. The cruel voice again—"Stop dreaming of stars!"
Her breathing quickened. Still, the pull of curiosity was stronger than fear. She moved toward the storage door. Just as her fingers touched the knob, Ravi Singh's voice called from the other room.
"Meera! Leave it."
She hesitated, heart pounding. But the whispers of her past only made her more desperate. She pushed the door open.
Her eyes widened.
Inside, tied to a chair, was the very student who had visited that evening. His eyes darted to her, wide with terror, pleading for help.
Before she could move, pain exploded at the back of her head. Ravi Singh stood behind her, the shards of a vase in his hand.
The world spun into darkness.