The Inheritance of Shadows
By Aarya Sawant
All I see is pitch-black darkness around me and my heart is pounding faster. I know someone is standing behind me, and the mere thought of it sends shivers down my spine. It's him.
I try to move, but my body refuses to obey. I want to run. Suddenly, I feel him close—his cold fingers brush the back of my shoulder, and his voice, low and menacing, whispers in my ear, “Sara, come to me.” I want to scream, cry, run away from him.
Then, through the suffocating darkness, a bright red light flickers into view— like a portal, a gateway to my world. My body, frozen with terror, is suddenly able to move again. Without a second thought, I RUN toward the light, clinging to the desperate hope that I can escape. I don’t dare look back.
“Oh God, Sara!” A voice shatters my panic—my sister, Chahat. “You scared the shit out of me... Another bad dream?”
I can’t find the strength to speak. I simply nod. Sweat drips down my face, and my t-shirt is soaked with it.
“Here... drink some water,” Chahat says, handing me a glass. I gulp it down in seconds, feeling the cold liquid slide down my throat, but it does little to ease the racing thoughts in my mind.
“Did you see him again?” she asks, sitting at the edge of my bed. She knows about the nightmares. She’s known for the past two years, ever since they began.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “He... he was asking me to come with him.”
I’ve never seen his face. All I know is the sound of his voice—a low, gravelly whisper—and the dark, shifting shape that floats in the shadows. It's always the same, yet each time, it feels worse. “Oh my God… Sara, do you think we should tell Mom about this? I know she doesn’t believe you,
but I really care about you, and I can't stand seeing you like this,” Chahat says, her phone in hand, ready to call our mother.
I know my mom too well. She’ll just tell me I need a therapist. I’ve been to three different ones over the past two years, but none of them helped. I know she loves me more than anything, but she always fails to understand what I’m going through. "Hey, it's getting pretty late. I don’t want you to disturb Mom," I say, gently convincing Chahat to go to sleep.
I still remember the first time I experienced sleep paralysis—it was shortly after my dad passed away in Mysore. I was 22 then. My dad was the kindest soul, a fund manager by profession. He was 59 when his car plunged off a bridge on a rainy day.
After his death, I couldn’t sleep for weeks. When I finally did, the sleep paralysis began. For the first few nights, I thought the man I saw in my nightmares was my dad, trying to communicate with me. But deep down, I knew it couldn’t be him. My dad would never frighten me like that.
. The bright sunlight streaming through our large window wakes me up. Chahat is still fast asleep, curled up like a baby. She’s four years younger than me, but to me, she’ll always be my little girl. I can’t believe she’ll be turning 20 next month.
“Don’t you want to wake up for your internship?” I tease, tickling her stomach.
“I don’t feel like going, Didi… I wish I could just sleep all day,” Chahat mumbles groggily, still half-asleep.
“Well, I’m making breakfast, and I want you ready in 30 minutes. Oh, and yes, I’ll drop you at Mr. Shetty’s office, so hurry up,” I say, trying to coax her out of bed.
Chahat’s office is conveniently close to mine, which makes it easier for me to drop her off on the way. We’ve been living on our own in Bangalore for the past eight months. I moved here after landing a job with an IT company and suggested that Chahat apply for an internship in the same city. That way, we could stay together.
After finishing our breakfast, we hop on my Activa and head out together. The chaotic Bangalore traffic greets us as usual.
“Oh God, there’s been an accident on the other side of the street!” Chahat exclaims, her voice tinged with alarm.
Accidents always unsettle me, especially after what happened to my dad. I instinctively avoid looking at the other side of the road, trying to keep my focus ahead.
After 15 minutes of being stuck in gridlock, the traffic finally starts moving again. I navigate through the bustle and drop Chahat off at Mr. Shetty’s office before continuing on my way.
. .
After scanning my ID to access the office premises, I step into the building and spot Manish, one of my colleagues. He’s a smart guy, and I genuinely like him as a friend.
“Hey, Sara! Good morning. How are you doing?” he greets me warmly.
“Good morning, Manish. I’m doing well. Are you prepared for the presentation?” I ask, my tone serious. We have a crucial presentation today— one that could secure a major deal and significantly boost our chances of impressing Mrs. Aruna Rayala, our boss.
“Yeah, totally prepared! We’re going to lock the deal—mark my words,” he says confidently before heading off to grab a coffee.
I, on the other hand, am incredibly nervous about this presentation. I’ve never felt this way before. Lost in my thoughts, I settle into my desk. “Oh, you’re here! Good morning, my sunshine!” Monali exclaims dramatically as she approaches. She’s my best friend, and we share an incredibly close bond. “Good morning... and why do you sound so excited?” I ask, surprised. “Anant is coming to meet me after two months! I’m so happy; I can’t wait to see him,” she gushes, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Anant is Monali’s fiancé, and she’s absolutely in love with him. They met on a train about two years ago, and their story is nothing short of a fairytale. “Oh my God, that’s so sweet. Lucky you!” I tease her playfully. I genuinely enjoy seeing people happy. Knowing that the people I care about are happy fills me with joy too. “What are you doing tonight?” Monali asks.
“Not much, probably just watching a movie with my sister,” I reply honestly. After working all day, I’m usually too tired to do much else.
“Perfect! Then you and Chahat are coming with me to Commercial Street. I need to buy some clothes and accessories,” she declares.
Monali loves shopping, so I agree to tag along. Besides, it’s a great opportunity for my sister to explore that vibrant market—it’s absolutely lovely.
.
After wrapping up our meetings and presentations, Monali and I head off to pick up Chahat. The three of us then make our way to the market.
The place is bustling with activity, packed with people from all over. After parking our scooters, we walk toward the main entrance. “This place is amazing, Didi! I’m going to buy so many clothes,” Chahat exclaims excitedly.
“Go ahead, take as much as you want,” Monali replies with a laugh.
The market is crowded and chaotic, with a strange smell lingering in the air.
“Hey, can you see Chahat? I can’t find her,” I shout to Monali, trying to make myself heard over the noise of the crowd. “No, Sara. Let’s call her… Oh no, there’s no network here. Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” Monali reassures me. We clasp hands and begin searching for her, navigating through the sea of people. I keep trying to call her, but the lack of signal in this place is infuriating.
As Monali and I frantically weave through the bustling crowd, I feel a strange chill creep up my spine. Something about this place feels off—the noise, the chaos, the overwhelming smell of spices mixed with sweat and incense. My breathing quickens, and I grab Monali’s hand tighter.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. A notification? No, it’s a message—from Chahat. Relief floods through me as I fumble to open it.
“Didi, help me. He’s here. Don’t come closer.”
My heart stops. He’s here. The words replay in my mind like a broken record. “Monali!” I choke out, showing her the message.
“What does this mean? Who’s ‘he’?” Monali’s voice is edged with panic.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammer, but deep down, I do. It’s him. The shadowy figure from my nightmares. This can’t be real—he’s just a figment of my mind, a recurring terror during sleep. He can’t be here, in the real world. Or can he?
“Stay here, Monali. I’m going to find her,” I say, letting go of her hand.
“No way, Sara! I’m coming with you,” she insists.
“Fine, but stay close.”
We move deeper into the labyrinthine market, the crowd seemingly pressing in tighter with every step. The air grows heavier, the strange smell intensifying. Then, in the distance, I catch a glimpse of her—Chahat’s red kurta, standing out like a beacon. Relief washes over me as I call her name.
“Chahat!”
She doesn’t respond. She’s standing completely still, her back to us. As I approach, I feel a strange energy, almost like static in the air. My stomach twists.
“Chahat, it’s me,” I say softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
She turns, and my blood runs cold. It’s her face—but her eyes are different. They’re dark, lifeless, like pools of shadow. Her lips move, but the voice that comes out isn’t hers.
“I told you to come to me, Sara.”
The voice is his. My nightmare’s whisper, now manifesting in my sister’s body.
I stumble back, colliding with Monali, who screams. The crowd around us seems oblivious, the chaos of the market continuing as though nothing is wrong.
“Leave her alone!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. “Whatever you are, leave her alone!”
Chahat—or whatever is inside her—smiles. It’s not a human smile. It’s cold, cruel, and stretches her face in an unnatural way.
“You can’t escape me, Sara. You never could. You’ll come to me, willingly or not.”
The red light from my dream suddenly flickers in the distance. It’s the same— pulsating, otherworldly, and beckoning. My heart races. Is it a way out, or another trap?
Monali pulls on my arm. “Sara, we need to go—NOW!”
But I can’t leave Chahat. Not like this.
The red light intensifies, casting eerie shadows across the market. People begin to notice now, their faces twisting in confusion and fear. The air hums with energy, and I know I have to make a choice.
Do I run toward the light, hoping it can save us, or confront the darkness here and now?
The hum of the red light grows louder, like a swarm of bees trapped inside my skull. My breath catches as I take a step closer to Chahat.
“Chahat, please,” I whisper, tears brimming in my eyes. “Fight this. I know you’re in there.”
But the thing inside her just grins wider, the shadows in her eyes deepening. “She belongs to me now, Sara. And soon, so will you.”
The market around us begins to shift. The vibrant stalls and noisy vendors blur, melting into a distorted haze. The smells of spices and food are replaced by something acrid, metallic—like blood and burning rubber. The crowd starts to dissipate, as if they’re vanishing into thin air.
“Sara, what the hell is happening?!” Monali screams, her grip on my arm trembling.
“I don’t know!” I shout back, my voice cracking. But deep inside, I do know. This isn’t just a nightmare anymore. It’s real. And somehow, he has found a way to pull us into his world.
The red light pulses again, closer now. The energy it radiates is overwhelming, tugging at my very soul. My feet instinctively shift toward it, but then I hear Chahat’s voice—her real voice.
“Didi, don’t! It’s a trap!”
Her words cut through the terror like a blade. I whip around to see her struggling, her body convulsing as though trying to break free from invisible chains. For a moment, her eyes flash with their usual warmth, her face etched with desperation.
“Chahat!” I yell, reaching out for her, but the thing inside her fights back, wrenching her away with inhuman strength.
“You can’t save her,” the voice sneers. “But if you come willingly, I might let her go.”
“Don’t listen to him, Sara!” Chahat cries, her voice cracking with pain. “He’s lying! He always lies!”
I’m paralyzed by indecision. Every fiber of my being screams to run toward the light, but I can’t abandon Chahat. Not her. Not my baby sister.
Monali grabs my hand, pulling me back. “We need to go! Sara, if we stay here, we’ll die!”
“No!” I scream, shaking her off. “I won’t leave her!”
Before I can make another move, the red light surges forward, surrounding us in a blinding glow. The market vanishes completely, replaced by a vast, empty void. The ground beneath my feet feels cold and damp, like stone. Shadows swirl around us, alive and writhing.
He’s here.
A tall, cloaked figure emerges from the darkness, his form shifting and unnatural, like smoke trapped in human shape. His face is obscured, but his eyes —glowing red like embers—pierce through me.
“You’ve always belonged to me, Sara,” he says, his voice a low, guttural growl. “Ever since your father gave his life for you.”
“What are you talking about?” I demand, my voice trembling.
“You think his death was an accident?” the figure mocks. “He made a deal to save you, and now it’s time for you to fulfill your part.”
My knees nearly buckle as the truth sinks in. My father… made a deal? With this? To save me?
“Liar!” I scream, though the doubt gnaws at me. My father was always protective, always willing to sacrifice for his family. But would he…?
The figure raises a hand, and Chahat collapses to the ground, gasping for air. I rush to her side, cradling her in my arms. Her skin is ice-cold, and her breathing is shallow.
“Let her go!” I shout. “Take me instead, but let her go!”
“Sara, no!” Chahat wheezes, gripping my arm weakly. “Don’t do it. He’ll destroy you!”
The figure chuckles, the sound reverberating through the void like thunder.
“You’re so predictable, Sara. But I’ll accept your offer.”
Before I can react, the red light envelops me, searing into my skin like fire. I scream, the pain unbearable, as the void begins to collapse around us.
The last thing I see is Chahat’s tear-streaked face, her voice calling out to me as the darkness swallows me whole.
When I wake up, I’m in a place I don’t recognize. The sky above is blood-red, and the ground beneath me is cracked and barren, stretching endlessly in every direction. The air is heavy, filled with a low, droning hum that vibrates through my bones.
I’m alone.
Or so I think—until I hear his voice again.
“Welcome home, Sara.”
Turning around, I see him standing there, his form more solid now, his face partially visible. It’s almost human, but not quite. His smile is a grotesque mockery of warmth.
“Where am I?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Exactly where you were always meant to be.”
Suddenly, I hear a faint sound—Chahat’s voice, calling out my name. It’s distant, like an echo, but it gives me a shred of hope. She’s still alive. And somehow, I’ll find a way to get back to her.
I have to.
No matter what it takes.
The hum in the air intensifies as his smile widens, revealing jagged, unnaturally sharp teeth. I take a step back, trying to steady myself. My mind races, replaying his words: “Your father made a deal.” It doesn’t add up. My dad wasn’t perfect, but he was kind, selfless. He wouldn’t make a deal with something so monstrous.
Unless…
“What did you mean?” I demand, my voice trembling but firm. “What deal? Why would he—?”
The figure tilts his head, as if amused. “Ah, Sara, still clinging to your illusions. You’ve always idolized him, haven’t you? The perfect father. The loving protector.”
“Shut up!” I snap, the words sharper than I intended.
“You don’t want the truth,” he continues, stepping closer. “But you deserve it. After all, you’re the reason he made the deal.”
My stomach churns. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” The figure raises a hand, and the air ripples. A scene materializes in front of me, like a memory pulled from the depths of my mind. I see my father —not the kind, gentle man I remember, but someone cold, calculating. His face is shadowed, his voice low as he speaks to the figure now standing before me.
“I want power. Wealth. Respect.” My father’s voice cuts through me like a knife. “And I’ll give you whatever you want in return.”
The figure’s voice from the past echoes, dripping with mockery. “Even your family?”
My father hesitates for only a moment before nodding. “If that’s the cost, so be it. Take Sara when the time comes. Just make sure I get everything I deserve.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head violently. “No, this isn’t real. My dad loved me. He wouldn’t…”
“He would,” the figure interrupts, his tone cruel. “And he did. Every ounce of success he had, every moment he spent ‘providing’ for you and your sister, was built on the deal he made with me. But deals come with consequences, Sara. When he tried to cheat his way out—well, you saw what happened.”
Images flash before my eyes: the car crash, the twisted wreckage on the bridge. My father’s face, lifeless, staring into nothingness. It wasn’t an accident. It was punishment.
“Why me?” I choke out. “Why not him?”
The figure laughs, a sound that reverberates through the red sky. “Because you were the price he agreed to. His life was collateral. You were the prize.”
Tears blur my vision as the realization sinks in. My father wasn’t a victim. He was the architect of this nightmare.
“Where is he now?” I demand, anger overtaking my fear.
The figure smirks. “Oh, he’s closer than you think.”
The ground trembles beneath me, and from the cracked earth, a shadowy form begins to rise. It takes shape, solidifying into a figure I recognize immediately: my father. But his eyes are wrong. They’re empty, devoid of warmth, glowing faintly with the same red light as the figure’s.
“Dad?” I whisper, my voice breaking.
He smiles—a cold, detached smile that sends shivers down my spine. “Sara, my girl. You’ve grown so strong.”
“Don’t!” I scream, stepping back. “Don’t act like you care about me! You did this! You traded me—your own daughter—for power!”
He tilts his head, almost amused. “And look how far it got me. Everything I wanted. Everything I deserved. But you, Sara… you’re destined for something far greater.”
“Greater?” I spit, rage boiling in my chest. “You’ve condemned me to this! To him!” I gesture at the cloaked figure, who watches silently, his amusement evident.
“You misunderstand,” my father says, his tone calm, almost condescending. “This isn’t punishment, Sara. This is your inheritance. A throne, a kingdom, and power beyond your wildest imagination. You’re not the victim. You’re the heir.”
The words hit me like a slap. “What are you talking about?”
The cloaked figure steps forward. “He’s right. You’re not just my prize, Sara. You’re my successor.”
The red light around us surges, illuminating symbols carved into the ground— ancient, intricate, pulsating with energy. I’m standing at the center of a ritual, one that’s been prepared for years.
“No,” I whisper, backing away. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real.”
My father’s smile widens. “It’s very real, Sara. You were born for this. Everything I did was to prepare you for your destiny.”
“Destiny?” I scream. “You mean betrayal! You sold me out!”
“And look where it’s brought you,” he replies, his tone maddeningly calm. “You have the power to reshape worlds, to command fear, to rule. You just have to embrace it.”
The ground beneath me starts to crack, glowing with an ominous red light. I feel the energy pulling at me, seeping into my skin, my veins, my very soul. The power is intoxicating, but it’s wrong. It’s his.
I turn to the cloaked figure. “You want me to rule? Fine. But not as your puppet.”
His laughter echoes like thunder. “You think you have a choice?”
“Yes,” I say, the words firm. For the first time, I feel something shift inside me —a spark of defiance. If this power is mine, then I’ll use it my way.
Before either of them can react, I plunge my hands into the glowing symbols on the ground, channeling the energy. It surges through me, burning, tearing, reshaping. The figure snarls, the void trembling around us.
“What are you doing?!” my father shouts, his composure finally breaking.
“Ending this,” I say, my voice steady. I focus all my anger, my pain, my betrayal into the energy, directing it at both of them.
The red light erupts, consuming everything. My father’s scream echoes as his form disintegrates, his betrayal erased with him. The cloaked figure tries to resist, but the power overwhelms him, tearing him apart.
When the light fades, I’m standing in the market again. The chaos, the smells, the noise—they’re all back. Chahat is lying on the ground, unconscious but breathing. Monali is beside her, shaking her awake.
“Sara?” Chahat’s voice is weak, but it’s her. Truly her.
I kneel beside her, pulling her into a tight hug. “It’s over,” I whisper, though I’m not entirely sure.
In the distance, a faint red light flickers, then vanishes. For now.
The chaos of the market dissolves into a strange, eerie stillness. The world feels heavier, quieter, as if holding its breath. Chahat stirs in my arms, her fingers gripping my shirt. “Didi?” she whispers, her voice trembling. “What… what happened? Where were you?”
Monali looks shaken but unharmed, her wide eyes darting between me and Chahat. “One moment, you were there, Sara, and then you weren’t. It’s like the crowd swallowed you. We couldn’t find you anywhere.”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady the pounding in my chest. “I’m here now,” I say softly, though my voice feels distant, hollow. “Everything’s fine.”
But it isn’t. Not really.
We help Chahat to her feet, and the three of us make our way out of the market. The buzz of people, the sounds of bargaining, and the relentless traffic seem surreal now. The air feels thicker, charged with something I can’t explain.
When we reach my scooter, I turn to Monali. “You take Chahat home,” I say, handing her the keys. “What about you?” she asks, concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I just… I need a moment. I’ll take a cab,” I reply, forcing a weak smile. “Please, just make sure she’s safe.” Monali hesitates, but Chahat tugs at her arm. “Let her be,” Chahat says softly. “She needs time.” They leave reluctantly, Monali casting worried glances over her shoulder. As their figures disappear into the distance, I let out a shaky breath and look up at the sky. The sun is setting, painting the horizon in hues of orange and red.
But it isn’t the sunset that catches my eye. It’s the faintest flicker of red light in the farthest corner of the sky—a reminder.
Later that night, I sit alone in the dim light of my bedroom, the air heavy with the scent of rain. Chahat is asleep, her soft breaths a comforting rhythm in the silence. My phone buzzes with a text from Monali, asking if I’m okay. I don’t reply. I can’t. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My face is the same, yet something in my eyes is different. Darker. Deeper. The events of the day replay in my mind—the figure, the ritual, my father. My father. He betrayed me. He traded me. And yet, his words haunt me: “You’re destined for something far greater.” A soft knock breaks the silence. My heart skips a beat. I glance at the clock. Midnight. “Chahat?” I call out, but there’s no response. The knock comes again, louder this time. I approach the door cautiously, every muscle in my body tense. When I open it, the hallway is empty—save for a single object lying on the floor. A photograph. I pick it up, my fingers trembling. It’s of my father, younger, standing beside a woman I don’t recognize. The woman’s face is blurry, her features obscured, but her hand rests on his shoulder in a way that feels possessive. Territorial.
On the back of the photograph, a message is scrawled in red ink: “He wasn’t the only one. They’re coming.” My blood turns to ice. I look down at my hands, and for the first time, I notice the faint glow of red veins beneath my skin, pulsating softly. The power I thought I destroyed—the power I claimed —hasn’t left me. It’s still here, coursing through me, a part of me now. I’m not free. I’m not safe. And I’m not alone. As the shadows in the room seem to shift and stretch toward me, I realize the truth: My father’s betrayal was only the beginning. Whatever he unleashed, whatever I’ve inherited, is far from over. The darkness doesn’t scare me anymore. It never could. Because now, I am the darkness. The faint flicker of red light in the corner of room grows brighter, and I close my eyes, preparing for what comes next. This is my inheritance, my curse, and my destiny.