Virajpur was silent under the new moon.
No moonlight. No stars. Just an endless black sky pressing down on the half-built structures and muddy roads of the village. The skeletal frame of a massive corporate building stood in the distance like a ghost waiting to be born.
This was supposed to be Aditya Rawat's next empire.
Aditya Rawat—Lucknow's golden boy. Billionaire businessman. Visionary entrepreneur. A man who had everything money could buy.
Except peace.
His black luxury SUV sped through the deserted highway toward Raj Hotel, the only decent place within fifty kilometers. The driver, a thin middle-aged man named Ramesh, kept glancing at the dark road ahead.
"Sir… today is Amavasya," Ramesh said nervously. "My mother says we should not stay outside late on new moon nights. Spirits roam freely after midnight."
Aditya leaned back in his seat and scoffed.
"These village superstitions," he muttered. "Ghosts, curses, black magic—people believe anything to feel important."
Ramesh forced a smile but didn't argue. He had seen fear in many men's eyes. He had never seen it in Aditya's.
Aditya checked his watch. 11:47 PM.
For some reason, his body felt heavy. His head throbbed. His heartbeat was irregular.
He hated this night.
Every month, on the night of Amavasya, his body reacted like this. Fever. Weakness. A strange burning sensation under his skin.
And the dream.
The same nightmare.
A dark forest. A burning ritual fire. A tantric with ash-covered skin chanting curses in an ancient language. And a woman crying, reaching for him, disappearing into smoke.
"You will never have her," the tantric's voice echoed in his memory.
"You will see love, touch love, breathe love… but never possess it."
"And when the moon dies, you will become what you truly are."
Aditya clenched his fists.
"Faster," he ordered.
Raj Hotel – Room 309
The hotel was quiet. Too quiet.
The receptionist barely looked up as Aditya walked past. He had booked Room 309 for the entire project duration. The number haunted him, though he never admitted it.
He entered the room, threw his jacket on the couch, and walked straight to the bathroom.
His reflection looked pale.
Dark circles under his eyes. His lips were dry. His veins looked… darker.
He turned on the tap and splashed water on his face.
That was when the pain hit.
It started in his spine.
A sharp, tearing sensation like bones were shifting. His hands trembled. His nails scraped against the sink.
He looked up at the mirror again.
For a second, his eyes were not human.
They were glowing.
Golden.
He stepped back, breathing heavily.
"This is nothing," he whispered to himself. "Just stress."
But the pain grew worse.
His bones cracked. His muscles tightened. His heartbeat sounded louder, deeper—almost animalistic.
He collapsed to his knees.
Outside, the village dogs began howling.
The clock struck 12:00 AM.
The Curse Awakens
Aditya crawled toward the bed, gripping the carpet. His shirt ripped as his body expanded unnaturally. His senses exploded—he could hear insects outside, feel the wind, smell the soil miles away.
His teeth sharpened.
His hands transformed into claws.
His body twisted in agony as fur began to grow across his skin.
He screamed—but the scream turned into a growl.
A monstrous, deep, echoing growl that did not belong to a man.
By the time the transformation ended, Aditya Rawat was gone.
In his place stood a man-beast, half human, half wolf, eyes burning with cursed intelligence.
He looked at his reflection in the broken mirror.
This was the truth he had carried across lifetimes.
The curse had followed him through death.
He was a werewolf bound by a tantric curse, destined to transform every Amavasya.
And worse—
He was destined to fall in love again.
And lose that love again.
Because love was the real curse.
To Be Continued…