Inside the dimly lit room, the smell of burning wood filled the air, mixing with the scent of damp earth. Anya sat on a wooden chair, its legs uneven, and watched the old man as he moved around the small space, lighting an oil lamp.
“You’re not the first one to come asking questions,” he said, settling himself across from her. “But the others… they didn’t stay long. The truth is not something people want to hear.”
Anya leaned forward, her heart racing. “I’m not afraid of the truth. Please, tell me what happened here.”
The old man stared at her, his eyes hardening once more. “This village… it wasn’t destroyed by outsiders, not in the way you’ve read about. It was torn apart from the inside. Betrayal… it always starts from within.”
Anya’s breath hitched. “Betrayal? By whom?”
The old man looked away, his gaze distant, as if he were seeing something long buried in his memory. “It was a pact… a promise made to protect something… something valuable. But in the end, it destroyed us.”
Anya’s mind raced. What could have been so valuable that it led to the ruin of an entire village? And how was her grandmother involved?
“There was a woman,” the old man continued, his voice quieter now. “She was at the heart of it. She knew things… things we didn’t understand. Some say she saved us; others say she was the reason everything fell apart.”
Anya felt a cold shiver run down her spine. “Who was she?”
The old man’s gaze finally met hers. “Your grandmother.”( To be continued)
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
09/09/2024
musingofrajat.wordpress.com 