DABRIA

The Vanara village nestled at the edge of a dark forest, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Houses with warm, inviting lights shining through their windows, casting a cozy ambiance in the night. A few villagers strolling under the moonlit sky.Villagers gathered around a bonfire, sharing stories and laughter, the firelight casting a warm glow on their faces. Beyond the village, there lies a forest, ancient and untamed, its secrets hidden beneath the thick foliage, with tall trees looming overhead, the moon casting eerie shadows through the dense trees, creating an atmosphere of mystery and suspense. The villagers, wary of the mysteries that lurk within, have declared the forest f*******n, a boundary marked by weathered signs of caution. The centre of the village is said to be the home of SOMEONE, whose name should not be said , as it itself put curse on you. Therefore the villagers named him as Ahriman and no one from the village was dared to go inside the forest even if it is at day. Because he captures and kill those who enters for his rituals. Around the hearth, tales of ancient pacts and the consequences of breaching the f*******n boundaries echo through generations.Yet, there are those who, driven by an insatiable curiosity or misguided bravery, dare to defy the warnings and venture into the f*******n realm. They never returned, and some of the villagers said that they heard cries echoing through the wind at night from the forests, on the same day when those villagers entered the forest. The night sky always unfurled its vast canvas, adorned with a myriad of stars that seemed to dance in celebration. but today its seemed to be different, there are no stars on the sky today. It is full moon and the moon seemed to be bigger than before. The air was filled with the soothing sounds of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance, creating a natural symphony that serenaded the night. Wisps of smoke wafted from chimneys, carrying the comforting scent of burning wood, a testament to the warmth and hearth of the village homes.In the central square, an ancient fountain stood as the centerpiece, its waters softly splashing and reflecting the moonlight. Surrounding it, flowerbeds in full bloom showcased an array of colors, their petals gently rustling in the night breeze. A sense of tranquility enveloped the village, with the hustle and bustle of the day replaced by a serene calmness. But things started to change. A boy from the village was looking at the moon, As he gazed at the changing moon, a sense of excitement welled up within him. Eager to share the magical sight with his fellow villagers, he rushed through the cobblestone streets, calling out to neighbors and friends. "Come quick! The moon is turning red!" the boy's voice echoed through the night, carrying a contagious enthusiasm that drew curious faces to their doorways and windows. The villagers, intrigued by the urgency in the boy's tone, emerged from their homes, their eyes turning towards the celestial spectacle. A sense of collective anticipation spread through the village as the boy led the way to a central gathering spot. There, under the open sky, the boy pointed with unbridled excitement, directing the villagers' attention to the celestial marvel above. The moon, now bathed in b****y red. Gasps of amazement and murmurs of wonder echoed through the crowd as the villagers witnessed the rare event. Some whispered folklore and tales passed down through generations, while others simply marveled at the beauty of the natural display. An unexpected shift in the atmosphere sent ripples of unease through the air. The once-calm night transformed into a scene of impending chaos. Abruptly, a heavy wind swept through the narrow streets, rattling windows and rustling leaves, a prelude to the sudden change that was about to unfold.The air, once still and peaceful, now carried an eerie howl as the wind intensified. Village lanterns flickered and strained against the gusts, casting unsettling shadows that danced on the cobblestone streets. The familiar sounds of the night were drowned out by the low moan of the wind, creating an unsettling symphony that stirred anxiety among the villagers. Domestic animals, usually at ease in the quietude of the village, sensed the disturbance. Dogs barked nervously, their fur standing on end, while chickens fluttered and clucked in agitation. Cattle in the fields let out distressed lowing, their eyes wide with unease as they huddled together for comfort. The faces of the villagers etched with concern. Whispers of confusion and worry spread through the gathering crowd as they tried to make sense of the unexpected change in the atmosphere. They exchanged anxious glances, their usual calm demeanor replaced by a shared concern for the safety of their homes and loved ones. In the heart of the dense forest, a solitary figure stood gazing upward at the vast expanse of the night sky. The air was crisp and carried the earthy scent of moss and pine needles. The silence was broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the occasional nocturnal calls of unseen creatures. As the man looked up, his eyes were drawn to the celestial canvas above. The moon, normally a serene and silvery orb, began its transformation. A subtle shadow began to cast over its surface, gradually turning the lunar landscape into a canvas of deepening red hues. His lips started to murmur something while his gaze straight at the b****y moon. And with a wicked smile he said '' SHE RISED AGAIN". In the far end, in the village of Jalapura, a girl was born to the village chieftain.