Deep in the forests of Maharashtra, where the Vaitarna River whispers secrets to the trees, there stands an ancient temple no local will name. Its crumbling stone walls are covered in strange carvings—figures with too many limbs, mouths stretched in silent screams. The villagers of nearby Morachi refuse to speak of it, but every monsoon, someone disappears near its grounds. Aditi, a wildlife researcher from Pune, came to study the rare fireflies that lit up the forest. The villagers warned her not to stray near the temple, especially after dark. But when her equipment picked up unnatural heat signatures near the ruins, curiosity overpowered fear. At dusk, as the fireflies began their eerie dance, Aditi stepped past the broken archway.
The air smelled wrong—like wet earth and something metallic. Her flashlight flickered, revealing fresh footprints leading inside... though none returning. The carvings seemed to move in the dim light. One figure stood out—a faceless deity with six arms, each holding a different weapon. As Aditi reached to touch it, the stone felt warm. A drop of dark liquid fell on her hand. Looking up, she saw them—dozens of bodies fused into the ceiling, their skin stretched like wax over the ancient bricks.
Something grabbed her ankle. The ground beneath her was not stone, but something pulsing. The temple wasn't abandoned—it was alive. The last transmission from Aditi's GPS showed her location deep in the forest. When search parties reached the coordinates, they found only her camera. The final photo showed a blur of glowing eyes in the dark, and a single word scratched into the lens: "Hungry."
Now, during monsoon season, villagers report seeing a woman in a torn field jacket walking near the river. She never speaks, only points toward the temple... where the fireflies now glow red.
