— The Abyss Beneath the Bridge —
Amidst the crackle of firecrackers, the bridge construction began in earnest.
Aarav withdrew all his savings. In this backward village without even internet, cash was king.
The bridge neared completion.
But fate's turn often comes when things seem smoothest.
The design required a massive central concrete pier to support the bridge's weight. The budget allowed for eight hundred cubic meters.
But as the concrete was poured into the foundation hole, it vanished like stones into the sea. Eight hundred cubic meters, a thousand, two thousand... The riverbed seemed a bottomless abyss, greedily swallowing everything. Inspection equipment showed no leaks. Where had all the concrete gone?
"We're in trouble... big trouble," the portly site manager muttered, face pale and clammy with sweat.
Aarav, informed of the situation, went to see the village chief.
"Aarav, this Blackwater River... it's evil," the chief said, pipe in mouth, expression grave. "People drown every year upstream and down. Your construction has disturbed the River God. If we don't appease its wrath with a life—a Living Pile—not only the bridge, but the whole village will be cursed!"
Aarav's brow furrowed at the term "Living Pile." He remained silent. Harm an innocent for his own goal? He would never.
Seeing his hesitation, the chief blew a smoke ring and pointed toward the distant, mist-shrouded mountain to the south.
"Think I'm joking? See that mountain? A demon is sealed beneath it—a flood fiend. This river comes straight from its foothills. Every year, the lives it takes are its tribute."
His voice dropped to a grave whisper.
"If we fail to appease it, and that thing awakens hungry... it won't just drown our village. Its rage will surge down the river and sweep through the entire Ganges. Thousands will die before it sleeps again."
He tapped ash from his cigarette, eyes narrowing.
"It's just a matter of money. Give me a million, and I'll find a willing sacrifice. Then we—"
"Enough, Chief!" Aarav cut him off sharply. "It's illegal! Absolutely not! Even if someone were willing, NO!"
The chief shook his head, sighed, and walked away. Aarav stood alone, staring at the half-finished pier, his mind in turmoil.
"Aarav, don't lose heart." Mira approached, her smile clean and warm. "You're so capable. I know you'll find a way."
Her smile dispelled the gloom in his heart. He took her hand, half-joking, half-serious. "Mira, once the bridge is built, I'll marry you. Okay?"
Mira's face flushed instantly. She looked down, uttering a barely audible "Mm." The affection of a lifetime spent together blossomed quietly in that moment.
They didn't know a carefully laid plot was brewing in the night.
— The Feast of the Living Pile —
That evening, every villager except Aarav and Mira crowded into the chief's house. Smoke curled thick in the dim room, clinging to the walls like a lurking shadow.
"The situation is clear to all," the chief said, tapping his pipe with a dull tok. "Either we abandon the bridge and waste everything... or we fill the foundation with a life."
"What if one life isn't enough?"
"We should've taken the money and run to the city!"
"It's all Aarav's fault—he pushed for this bridge!"
Voices rose like a pack of dogs snarling at the same scent.
"Quiet!"
The chief's bark cut through the noise. His gaze swept over the room, cold and commanding.
"The bridge is half-built. Stopping now means even greater loss. Once it's finished, everyone benefits. Logic demands we complete it."
"But without a Living Pile, there's no way!"
"Then we use one," the chief said, his voice hard as hammered iron.
A tense hush fell.
"But... who's willing? And Aarav won't agree."
Behind the fog of cigarette smoke, the chief's expression twisted into something almost inhuman.
"Since he doesn't agree... we use him."
The silence cracked—then the greed beneath it erupted.
"I agree! The bridge was his dream—let him pay for it!"
"He angered the River God!"
"This is his responsibility!"
"His money should've been ours from the start!"
Greed didn't merely devour conscience—
it lit up their eyes.
One man muttered how twenty million could buy a flat in the city.
Another calculated dowries, job licenses, new motorbikes.
A third whispered the exact model of the house he wanted, already spending money that wasn't yet stolen.
The chief exhaled a slow plume of smoke.
"After it's done," he said softly, "I only want twenty million. The rest... divide it as you wish."
Twenty million.
A number too precise—far too practiced.
He had planned this long before the night began.
And now everyone knew it—
and no one cared.
The plan was simple: a fake feast, get Aarav drunk, and drag him to the river.
Soon after, Aarav arrived, confused but touched by the overflowing dishes.
"Chief... this is too much. You shouldn't waste—"
"You've worked hard for us," the chief said warmly, gripping his shoulder. "Tonight, we honor you."
Cup after cup, toast after toast—
Aarav's vision blurred, his smile softened, and finally he collapsed forward.
The villagers exchanged looks—
smiles that were cold, sharp, triumphant.
Ropes appeared silently.
They tied his wrists, his ankles, his torso—tight, rough, merciless.
Aarav was hoisted up like slaughtered meat.
"What are you doing?! LET AARAV GO!"
Mira's voice cut through the night as she rushed in, but rough hands pinned her down.
When she saw stones being tied to Aarav's limp body, her face drained of all color.
"Heavens—! You're making a Living Pile?! Has everyone gone mad?!"
Her voice cracked into a scream.
"He used every coin he had—for YOU! To build YOUR road! YOUR bridge! And you repay him with MURDER?! Where is your humanity?! Don't you fear divine punishment?! PLEASE—LET HIM GO!"
Her words bounced off their hardened faces, leaving no mark.
A rag was shoved into her mouth.
Ropes bit into her wrists.
She could only thrash helplessly as Aarav—heavier by the weight of stones and betrayal—was carried to a small boat.
The shock of icy water slammed Aarav awake.
His breath tore from his lungs.
He saw the ropes. The stones. The villagers' silhouettes on the shore.
And something inside him snapped.
"Hate... I HATE THIS!"
"I gave them everything! WHY?! WHY WOULD THEY—?!"
Blood-red tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, burning as they fell.
Every face on the shore carved itself into his soul—
each one an oath of vengeance.
Splash—!
The weight dragged him down.
Cold darkness swallowed him whole.
But in that suffocating black,
something stirred.
A pulse.
A current.
A whisper that was not the river's.
As if something ancient beneath the silt...
opened an eye.
And noticed him.
Aarav sank deeper—
not alone.