"Velvet Shadows"

Behind a desk, Tina Sharma began mimicking the eerie melody emanating from the cursed mask. Her voice merged seamlessly with the mask's haunting tune, creating a duet of devilish harmony that drenched both the abandoned classroom and the long-deserted building in a suffocating aura of dread.

Her fingers dragged along the delicate wings of a butterfly, mutilating them with a twisted satisfaction, her face contorted into a demonic grin as she sang.

Suddenly, Professor Joseph’s voice sliced through the unnatural air, sharp and furious.

Mr Joseph: “You girl! Are you deaf? What the hell are you laughing at? I’m talking to you! Answer me! Drop those insects. Wait right there—I’m coming.”

But Tina remained still. Her eyes glinted with cruel obsession, fingers still torturing the fragile creature.

He stormed toward her, slamming a rod against a bench with a loud bang.

The smirk vanished from Tina’s face. She turned, gaze darkening.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she snatched the dead butterfly and dashed toward him—not with human grace, but with an animalistic, inhuman sprint. Letting out an unearthly shriek, she grabbed Mr. Joseph by the collar and hurled him across the room with a shocking, almost supernatural strength.

He crashed onto the cold floor. Before he could react, Tina was upon him, pressing the lifeless butterfly corpses against his trembling lips.

Tina (whispering): “Eat.”

His face turned ghostly white. Blood—his own—spread across his mouth like crimson paint.

A devilish smile crept back onto her face, stretching wider and darker.

A group of stunned boys raised their phones, recording every spine-chilling second—fascination and horror frozen on their faces.

Suddenly, Tina’s eyes flicked toward them. In one violent motion, she turned and smashed her head against the wall.

A few boys snapped out of their shock and rushed to her, trying desperately to restrain her. She fought wildly—until she collapsed, unconscious.

Silence smothered the room. No one spoke. No one breathed.

The witnesses, pale and trembling, lifted Tina and the injured professor, rushing them to the nearest hospital. Others scrambled to call families, barely able to speak.

Meanwhile, in a separate corner of the unfolding nightmare…

The dormitory door creaked open.

Jane: “That’s amazing—we’re all rank holders.”

Riya: “Yeah, but we need to keep working hard.”

Jane (grinning): “Don’t worry, baby girl. We’ve got this.”

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Riya (smiling): “If you say so…”

Fa: “Hey, what if we sneak into the college tonight?”

Riya: “What? Are you serious? That’s insane!”

Jane: “We barely visit during the day, and now you want to explore it at night?”

Riya: “You do remember the horror story about our university, right?”

Fa (chuckling): “Oh please. Every college has ghost stories. Don’t be dramatic.”

Just then, the door creaked open again.

A girl stepped inside.

And for a moment… time itself seemed to hold its breath.

The room went still.

Conversations halted. Eyes turned—not drawn by beauty alone, but by something older, deeper.

She moved with a kind of ageless grace, a quiet power, and an aura that whispered secrets buried beneath centuries of dust and shadow.

Her flowing black hair shimmered with subtle streaks of midnight blue, cascading down her back like a silken waterfall of shadows and starlight. Draped in a deep navy Anarkali with Persian blue accents and intricate gold threadwork that whispered tales of forgotten dynasties, she walked like a myth come alive. The fabric swayed with each step, trailing the quiet dignity of a queen. A soft dupatta, adorned with delicate geometric and floral motifs, clung to her shoulders—each fold a tapestry of heritage.

Dark kohl rimmed her intense eyes, bold oxidised silver jewellery gleamed against her skin, and traditional leather sandals grounded her in the present.

She was Jiya Priya—grace incarnate, history reborn, and power wrapped in silence.

She walked with calm poise, her every step echoing centuries of silent strength and ancestral fire.

Jane: “Look who’s here—our stunning beauty queen has arrived.”

Fa: “Jiya, what do you think?”

Jiya: “About what?”

Fa quickly recounted their wild idea.

Jiya: (sighing) “It’ll be fun to explore the campus… but—”

Fa: “No buts. It’s decided. Tomorrow night.”

Jiya: (smiling faintly) “Hmm… alright.”

Riya: “We’ll wait here at the dorm. Just come as early as you can.”

Fa: “Thank you, Jiyasi!”

Jiya: (eyes glinting) “I’m excited too.”

Evening – Tina’s House

In the brightly lit hall, her parents spoke softly about arranging a temple puja for peace and blessings.

Upstairs, Tina’s room told a darker tale. The walls were painted black, a single flickering lightbulb casting long shadows. She shut the door behind her and set up a camera on a tripod.

Recording begins.

Her face flickered between sorrow and something more disturbing—gleeful mischief veiled in grief.

Tina (softly):

“I’m Tina Sharma… from the Chemical Engineering department. I ranked first in the university.”

A pause. A deep breath.

“I’m sorry. Really… to the one who ranked second. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have taken your place.”

A sob slips out. But then—

A wicked smirk curls across her lips.

“Yeah… I took your place. Because I could.”

(voice shifts, mocking)

“Bruh!!” (laughs)

She wipes away a tear that’s more theatrical than real, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.

Tina:

“I cheated. I didn’t study. Didn’t want to. But I wanted the glory… the rank… the crown.

So I cheated. And I won.”

She leans closer to the camera, her voice deepening into a demonic rasp.

Tina (whispering):

“I should kill myself. I’m going to end this.”

Her smirk stretches unnaturally wide as she ends the recording.

The screen goes black.

The video is uploaded and sent to the university’s official student group.