The Diabolic Gift and the Game of Invisible Bonds
There stood a strange shop in the centre of the ancient city of Vidyanagar, where the narrow pathways coiled like the tail of a serpent. It was hidden in a spot that most people didn’t see, in a neglected nook of the bazaar. With its faded sign that said “Anokha Upahar,” or “Unique Gifts,” the shop was a veritable gold mine of strange items. It was rumored that any item, no matter how rare or cursed, could be obtained by the owner, an elderly man with piercing eyes.
A young man named Dev came into the store one evening as the sun was setting and long shadows were created across the cobblestone streets. An invisible force drew him there, a curiosity he was unable to articulate. As he entered, the door’s bell jingled softly, filling his senses with the musty smell of neglected items and ancient wood.
The elderly guy behind the desk replied, “Welcome,” in a voice as smooth as silk but with a weight that gave Dev a tingle. “Looking for something special, are we?”
Uncertain about what he was looking for, Dev hesitated. He looked about at the strange assortment of knickknacks, talismans, and antique items and said, “I’m not sure.” He glanced up to a tiny, well carved box perched on a high shelf. It was shadowy, nearly black, and had an otherworldly energy that pulsed through it.
The elderly man met his eyes with a smile that showed off his overly flawless and pointed teeth. “Ah, the Diabolic Gift, the ‘Pishachik Upahar’. It really is a very unusual thing.”
“What does it do?” Despite the discomfort that was eating at him, Dev questioned, his curiosity piqued.
The old guy said, “It grants the bearer a gift,” before lowering his voice to a whisper. “But exercise caution… for there is always a cost associated with a gift.”
Dev was curious. He was ecstatic by the prospect of owning something so strong and forbidden. He snapped up the box without hesitation. With great care, the elderly guy wrapped it over Dev’s face, seemingly imprinting it in his mind.
That evening, Dev sat at his table with the box in front of him in the dark light of his tiny apartment. As he raised the lid, his heart raced with eagerness. There was a thin silver chain within, lying flat on a velvet cushion. A small key, hardly larger than his thumb nail, was fastened to the chain. The key seemed to come to life as it shimmered in the light.
“What could this unlock?” As he turned the key over in his hand, Dev pondered out loud.
He felt something peculiar come over him the moment he touched it. He had a fleeting feeling that he was not alone as the room appeared to blur. But the feeling was fleeting, as soon as it appeared.
Dev chose to wear the chain around his neck with the key pressed up against his chest, brushing aside his discomfort. He had bizarre visions of an ancient, weathered door buried in the shadows of a place he didn’t recognize that night as he drifted off to sleep.
The next day, driven by an unexplainable yearning, Dev found himself strolling the streets of Vidyanagar, unable to get the images out of his head.
His feet led him to an ancient, deserted mansion on the outskirts of the city, which had been a mystery for a long time. The door he had seen in his nightmares materialized in front of him.
Dev took the small key from around his neck and slid it into the lock with quivering hands. He was shocked to see how well it fit. There was a dark, dusty room beyond when the creaky door opened.
One light beam lighted a small round table in the middle of the room, surrounded by three chairs.
The door banged behind him as he entered, enclosing him in darkness. It seemed as though the room was breathing and waiting. When Dev realized he wasn’t alone, his heart began to race. Hovering about the table were figures formed by shadows that started to move and take shape. They motioned for him to sit, and despite his better judgment to run, he found himself playing along and obliging.
The whispers of the shadows filtered through the atmosphere like eerie music, whispering. They called out, “Adrishyo Bondhoner Khela,” the Game of Invisible Bonds.
Though nothing was visible, Dev could feel the chains tightening around his ankles and wrists right away. A wave of panic swept through him as he battled the unseen power.
His mind began to be filled with thoughts other than his own as the whispering of the shadows became stronger, drawing him farther into the game.
Dev shouted, “No… this isn’t real,” but the bindings held fast and tightened around him no matter what he did. The chamber reverberated with the icy, ruthless laughter of the shadows dancing all around him.
The game had started, and Dev discovered the actual nature of the Diabolic Gift far too late. Not only did the key he had unlocked open the door, but it also unlocked the chains that now bound him, entangling him in an endless game of twists and turns.
The last thing Dev heard before darkness overtook him was the echo of the old man’s words, “With every gift, there comes a price.” The shadows were drawing in.