When Lord Rama struck down Ravana in the Treta Yuga,
Dharma was restored through duty, sacrifice, and unwavering resolve.
When Lord Krishna ended Kansa in the Dwapara Yuga,
evil fell before wisdom, strategy, and divine will.
Across every age, whenever darkness grew beyond control,
Lord Vishnu descended into the mortal world.
He changed his form.
He changed his name.
He changed his destiny.
But never his purpose.
Demons rose again and again, feeding on human fear, desire, and weakness.
And again and again, they were destroyed.
At last, the sages declared the war complete.
The surviving asuras were cast into the underworld—
a realm buried far beneath the human world.
Sacred seals were placed upon the gates between realms.
Mantras older than creation itself bound the doors shut.
No demon would return.
No god would need to descend again.
So the scriptures promised.
KALI YUGA — THE MODERN ERA
Kali Yuga was meant to be different.
An age without divine intervention.
But time erodes even the strongest seals.
Hidden deep within the boundary between worlds,
a fracture appeared—
Small.
Silent.
Almost invisible.
A crack that had been forming for centuries.
On a moonless night—
when the world slept in ignorance,
when noise drowned faith—
the seal finally gave way.
From a vast black pit, older than history and deeper than memory,
something emerged.
It had no face.
No form.
Only intent.
As it forced itself through the fracture,
the air split apart, screaming under its passage.
The ground trembled.
The silence grew heavy,
as if the world itself was holding its breath.
The shadow moved forward, searching—
learning the shape of this new age.
Temples still stood,
but few prayed.
Gods were remembered,
but rarely believed.
The shadow understood.
A hollow sound echoed from the pit—
something like laughter.
Because Kali Yuga was not protected by devotion,
but by disbelief.
And if the gates of the underworld had cracked open once more,
then Vishnu would inevitably return.
Not as a king.
Not as a god among men.
But as something born of this age itself.
And when he rose,
the end of Kali Yuga would no longer be prophecy—
It would be inevitable.
Somewhere in the vast human world,
unnoticed and unannounced,
destiny shifted.
As the shadow continued to observe this unfamiliar era,
the night presented something unexpected.
At the edge of a towering building,
a girl stood motionless.
Her eyes were swollen with tears.
Her lips were bitten raw, as if pain was the only thing anchoring her to reality.
Below her, the city roared with life—
unaware that one of its own was about to disappear.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward.
Her body fell.
The wind tore past her,
shredding her silent scream into nothingness.
Curiosity stirred within the shadow.
It moved.
Ripping through the darkness,
reaching toward the falling girl—
And at that exact moment—
The story pauses.
Because before understanding why someone falls,
one must understand the world that pushes them to the edge.
Morning arrives bright and unapologetic.
The sun rises over crowded streets,
over rushing footsteps and honking cars.
People move with purpose—
eyes locked onto glowing screens,
minds trapped in schedules.
No one slows down.
No one looks twice.
In this age,
time is expensive,
empathy is optional,
and silence is normal.
Everyone is busy living their own life—
too busy to notice someone else quietly breaking.
Across the city,
a 22-year-old girl stands among half-packed boxes and scattered luggage.
Her name is Siya.
Sweat clings to her forehead.
Fatigue weighs heavy on her shoulders.
She presses her phone to her ear,The call connects.
irritation slipping into her voice.
"Where are you?" she asks.
"You said you'd help me shift today. You still haven't come."
On the other end, a boy answers lazily.
His name is Suhan.
"Sorry, baby," he says smoothly.
"I forgot. I'm coming in twenty… maybe thirty minutes."
His tone is casual. Familiar.
Affectionate enough to be convincing.
The conversation sounds intimate—
the kind shared between lovers.
Siya exhales, relieved but annoyed,
trusting his promise without questioning it.
The call ends.
The scene shifts.
Suhan lowers his phone.
Beside him,
another girl sleeps peacefully in the same bed.
Sunlight spills through the curtains,
revealing the truth with cruel clarity.
Suhan isn't forgetful.
He's lying.
He's cheating.
...
Suhan arrived exactly as promised—
late, slightly breathless, wearing an apology he had rehearsed on the way.
"I'm really sorry," he said quickly.
"I messed up."
Siya stared at him for a moment, then sighed.
"You always say that."
He smiled—soft, familiar.
"To make it up to you… let's go out. A proper date. Just us."
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
Minutes later, they were swallowed by the metro station.
Screens flashed.
Trains roared.
People rushed past without seeing one another.
Above the human world—far beyond steel, tunnels, and cities—
the ancient door trembled.
The door sealed for ages.
The small crack widened.
Stone split.
Seals shattered.
From the black pit beyond it,
demons began to emerge—
twisted, violent, starving.
Inside the same train Suhan and Siya boarded,
only a few seats away—
The same girl was sitting there who attempt suicide the last night.
Her name was Kalki.
A long white shirt hung loosely over black clothes.
Curly hair cascaded freely over her shoulders.
She exhaled smoke from a cigarette, her posture relaxed—almost careless.
But her eyes were different.
Sharp.
Ancient.
Alert.
From her neck to her jaw ran a dark, unnatural mark—
as if something had etched itself beneath her skin.
She felt it.
The crack had grown wider.
The demons were crossing over.
A faint smile touched her lips,
but tension burned behind her eyes.
It's started, she thought.
This time… there's no stopping it.
Inside her, the black shadow stirred.
It pressed.
It demanded control.
It failed.
Kalki's will held firm.
The shadow existed within her—
sealed, restrained, furious.
A curse trapped inside flesh,
unable to dominate its host.
THE MASSACRE
The train accelerated.
Ahead, the driver stiffened.
He heard it again—
that unnatural distortion in the air,
as if something had passed through space itself.
His eyes remained fixed forward.
There was nothing there.
The tunnel loomed closer.
As the train crossed into its darkness,
the sound came again—
Closer.
The driver's breath caught.
Slowly, against every instinct screaming inside him,
he turned his head.
Something was already there.
A mass of slick, writhing tentacles burst from the shadows,
coiling around his neck and torso.
He didn't even have time to scream.
Bones cracked.
His body was yanked backward,
spine bending the wrong way before tearing apart.
Blood sprayed across the control panel.
His hands twitched once—
then fell limp.
The train roared forward, unguided.
And behind the shattered glass,
something else settled into the cockpit,
breathing slowly.
Then—
Hell began.
Lights flickered violently.
The temperature dropped.
Screams exploded through the compartments.
From ceilings, walls, and shadows,
monstrous shapes emerged—
clawed, elongated, wrong.
Passengers froze.
Then panic shattered reason.
They ran.
A man was dragged screaming into the ceiling.
A mother was torn from her child.
A body hit the floor—then vanished into darkness.
Emergency lights bathed the train in red.
Under that glow,
faces no longer looked human.
This was not an attack.
It was extermination.
In the middle of the chaos,
someone remembered.
Kalki.
She lifted her eyes.
No fear.
No panic.
Only restrained fury.
The mark on her neck pulsed violently.
Inside her, the shadow screamed.
Let me out.
Kalki inhaled slowly.
"No," she whispered.
"Not yet."
Because if she lost control now—
The demons in the train would not survive.
And neither
would the humans.