A manipulative couple’s sinister murder plan spirals into a cosmic battle between light and dark forces, as the Galactic Council brings in Divine protection from the demons summoned by their greed.
Copyright © Priya Florence Shah
The air was thick with the stench of cheap alcohol and weed as Martin slumped on the couch, a bottle of whiskey cradled in his hand. His glassy eyes stared at the cracked ceiling above, while Evelyn paced the room, her red nails tapping against her phone, frustration boiling beneath her skin.
“She won’t budge,” Martin muttered, slurring his words. “I thought she’d fall right into my arms, but she’s different now. Tougher.”
Evelyn’s face twisted with disdain. “You’re pathetic. You can’t even charm that little mouse anymore? What the hell happened to you, Martin?” She kicked a chair aside and stormed over to the window, glaring out into the dark street.
“She’s not like she used to be,” he continued, taking a long gulp of whiskey. “She refused to even have dinner with me. Told me she knew what I was after.”
Evelyn spun around hissing. “We don’t need her to agree to anything. If she won’t play nice, we’ll make sure she doesn’t live long enough to say no.”
A sinister smile crept onto Martin’s face. He liked that about Evelyn—the way her mind worked in the shadows, weaving plans like a spider. She was cold and ruthless, exactly what he needed.
“Let’s get the hitman,” he suggested. “The Dark Web’s got all kinds of people for that sort of thing. Clean. No mess.”
Evelyn smirked, her lipstick dark and gleaming under the dim light. “It’ll be like she never existed. Once she’s out of the way, we’ll make our move in court. Spread the rumors, get her written out of the will, and then… Barbados, baby.” Her eyes gleamed at the thought of tropical sands and endless luxury.
Outside, the night seemed to breathe, the wind howling like it knew the evil taking root inside their apartment.
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In the filthy apartment, Evelyn paced with excitement. “It’s done. The hit’s been placed. The money will be wired in a few days. All we have to do is wait for the job to be finished.” She looked over at Martin, who was laughing in a stupor. The whiskey bottle was nearly empty now.
“She’s as good as dead,” he chuckled, the wickedness in his voice barely restrained. “And no one will ever suspect us.”
Evelyn moved closer, leaning into his ear. “Barbados is calling, baby. Just think, all that money… all that power. We’ll be untouchable.”
But Evelyn, always the overachiever, wasn’t satisfied with just that. She sat across from him, her fingers trailing over the spine of the old, leather-bound grimoire she had pulled from her family’s collection.
“I don’t want to leave anything to chance,” she muttered, flipping through the brittle pages. Her nails scraped against the faded symbols as she found the spell she had in mind. “We can’t afford any screw-ups.”
Martin’s eyes flicked up from his computer, his voice slurred from the whiskey. “The guy’s solid, Ev. He’ll take care of her.”
Evelyn shot him a look, her dark eyes gleaming with something far more dangerous than alcohol. “You think one hitman is going to solve everything? Clara’s got something protecting her, I can feel it. We need more than bullets and knives. We need power.” She slammed the book shut and stood, pacing with restless energy. “We hit her from every angle. Hire the hitman, fine, but let’s make sure her soul can’t crawl back to haunt us. The death spells will lock her fate in.”
Martin stared at her, a mixture of awe and fear. He loved that about her—the way her mind worked like a predator, always circling the next piece of prey. But this was stepping into something darker than he had bargained for.
“Fine,” he grumbled, setting his laptop aside. “But once this is done, I want to be sipping drinks on a beach, not dealing with your family’s witchcraft.”
Evelyn smiled, a slow, chilling curve of her lips. “Don’t worry, baby. After this, Clara won’t even be a memory.”
Later that night, the couple sat in the dim light of their living room, the makeshift altar set up with candles, bones, and earth from the cemetery. A lock of Clara’s hair—swiped from an old brush Martin had stolen—lay in the center of the altar. The air grew colder as Evelyn began the incantation, her voice low and commanding. The candles flickered, the flames wavering as the temperature in the room dropped to a frigid chill.
Martin watched, his stomach twisting as the shadows seemed to warp and twist, growing thicker, more alive. Evelyn’s chanting grew louder, the words rolling off her tongue in a guttural language that made his skin crawl. As she finished, the room fell into a sudden, eerie silence. The candles went out, plunging them into darkness.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, a low, rumbling growl echoed through the apartment, and the ground trembled beneath them. The ritual had worked—too well.
Suddenly, the room grew cold — unnaturally cold. The windows fogged up, and an eerie mist seeped through the cracks beneath the door. Evelyn stopped mid-sentence, her breath visible in the chilled air.
“What the hell?” she whispered.
Without warning, the walls of the apartment began to tremble. Shadows twisted and contorted in the corners, elongating into grotesque figures. The demons had come, summoned by the darkness that Martin and Evelyn had embraced.
One of the figures spoke, its voice a deep, guttural growl. “You have invoked us with your malice and greed. But there is more at play than you understand.”
Evelyn’s smug grin faded, replaced with wide-eyed terror. “What… what are you?” she stammered, backing away from the looming creatures.
The demon stepped forward, its eyes glowing like embers. “We are the darkness you sought. But the light you defy will not be vanquished so easily.”
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Clara sat in her small kitchen, sipping tea, the warmth of the cup doing little to ease the growing tension in her chest. She could feel something was wrong, something dark looming over her life ever since she met up with Martin. His voice had been too smooth, too forced. The words sounded wrong, like an actor reading lines he barely understood.
Her hands trembled slightly as she stared into the tea’s reflection. She hadn’t spoken to him in years, and her life had been peaceful — until that fateful day. That’s when the nightmares began, and the strange feeling of being watched. She had always been intuitive, but this was something more.
Suddenly, the lights flickered. A chill ran through the room. Clara froze. The air felt heavier, and for a moment, she heard something — a low, raspy whisper — just outside her perception. She couldn’t make out the words, but the intent was clear: malevolent.
Just then, a blinding white light enveloped the room, as though the very air had ignited. Clara gasped, dropping her cup, the sound of porcelain shattering against the floor echoing through her home. The presence, the darkness, it was gone. But in its place, there was something else — something powerful and ancient.
From the light, a figure appeared, faceless yet radiating warmth and protection. Clara fell back, her heart pounding.
“Do not fear,” a voice resonated within her mind, clear and commanding. “The Galactic Council has seen what is happening. We are here to protect you.”
Clara’s breath caught in her throat, her mind struggling to comprehend. “Protect me? From who?”
“From those who seek to end your life. Your ex-husband and his companion have called upon dark forces, but they will not succeed. You must be strong.”
Clara stood in the center of her living room, surrounded by the glow of protective energy. The demons clawed at the barriers, their forms barely visible through the spiritual shield. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but she did not flinch.
“I won’t let you take me,” Clara whispered, her voice steadier than she thought it would be.
The largest demon, its body wreathed in flame, snarled and lunged, slamming into the invisible wall. It recoiled, shrieking in rage.
“You will fall, Clara!” it roared, its voice filled with venom. “They have summoned us, and we do not fail.”
Clara closed her eyes, focusing on the light within her. I am protected. I am strong.
From the light, the figure from the Galactic Council spoke again. “Stay strong. The darkness cannot thrive in the face of truth.”
One by one, Clara’s inner strength shattered the demons’ assaults. The light within her grew stronger, pushing the vile creatures back into the void from which they came.
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In the cold, damp basement of a rundown motel, the hitman sat at a small table, assembling his weapons with calculated precision. He was a man of few words, someone who lived in the shadows, used to following orders without asking questions. But as he loaded the magazine into his gun, something dark stirred within him—something that hadn’t been there before.
The demons had found him.
Martin and Evelyn had summoned the entities through their malicious intent, but instead of sending them directly to Clara, the demons twisted the plan. They latched onto the hitman, seeping into his mind like poison, controlling his thoughts, twisting his will to theirs.
His body jerked slightly, eyes rolling back before they settled, glowing faintly with an unnatural, fiery light. He no longer had a mind of his own—he was their puppet now, and their true targets weren’t Clara, but the ones who had summoned them: Martin and Evelyn.
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The couple sat in their apartment, eagerly awaiting news of Clara’s demise. Evelyn was sipping champagne, her legs draped over the arm of the couch, while Martin flipped through TV channels, a smug grin on his face.
“Any minute now,” Martin chuckled, “and it’s all over. She won’t know what hit her.”
Evelyn raised her glass. “To new beginnings. Once the money’s ours, Barbados is only the start.”
There was a knock at the door. The sound was sharp, unsettling in its suddenness. Martin frowned, exchanging a glance with Evelyn.
“That must be the call,” he said, getting up and walking toward the door. But as he opened it, his confident expression fell.
The hitman stood in the doorway, his face pale, but something about his eyes was off. They seemed to burn with an eerie light, his movements slow and deliberate.
Martin’s smile faltered. “It’s done then?” he asked.
The hitman didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped inside, his footsteps heavy, dragging a thick sense of dread into the room. Evelyn sat up, her eyes narrowing as she sensed something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
The hitman’s lips twisted into a grotesque smile, but it wasn’t his own. The demons inside him were now fully in control, their hatred directed at the very people who had summoned them. His voice, guttural and hollow, spoke in a language neither Martin nor Evelyn understood. The air grew cold, and a palpable darkness filled the room.
“You called us into this world,” the hitman rasped, his voice now layered with demonic tones. “Now, we have come for you.”
Martin’s face drained of color. “Wait, this isn’t—” he started to say, but the hitman was already moving, faster than any human should be able to.
In a flash, the hitman grabbed Martin by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand as if he weighed nothing. Evelyn screamed, backing up against the wall, her glass shattering on the floor.
“You thought you could control forces beyond your understanding,” the demon within the hitman growled. “Now you will pay for your arrogance.”
Martin struggled, gasping for breath, but the hitman’s grip was like iron. His eyes bulged as he choked, his legs kicking helplessly in the air. Evelyn, paralyzed with fear, tried to make a run for the door, but the hitman was faster. He flung Martin to the side like a rag doll, his body crashing against the coffee table, sending splinters of wood across the floor.
Evelyn barely had time to scream before the hitman turned his gaze on her. “Your greed, your malice—these are the very things that have called us forth. Now, we will feed on you.”
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pressed herself against the wall. “No, please—this wasn’t supposed to happen! We didn’t mean for it to go this far!” she pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears.
The hitman advanced, his eyes glowing brighter. He raised his gun, but it wasn’t meant for Clara anymore. The demons had twisted his mind, his purpose—now, they sought to claim the souls of those who had summoned them.
The shot echoed through the apartment. Evelyn fell to the ground, blood pooling around her as her body lay still, lifeless. The hitman—no longer just a man, but a vessel for the darkness—looked down at her with no remorse. The demons had claimed their prize.
Martin, half-conscious and bleeding, looked up, trembling, barely able to speak. “W-why…? We gave you what you wanted!”
The hitman crouched down, his face inches from Martin’s, the glow in his eyes flickering with malevolent glee. “You summoned us with evil, and now, we will devour what is ours. There is no escape for the wicked.”
With that, the hitman delivered the final blow, ending Martin’s life in an instant.
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Across town, Clara felt the shift. She didn’t know what had happened, but the weight on her spirit lifted as if the darkness had been banished from her life. The Galactic Council’s protection still encircled her, keeping her safe from harm. She took a deep breath, knowing instinctively that the battle was over.
As the hitman walked out of the apartment, now just an empty shell of a man, the darkness around him faded. Martin and Evelyn’s greed, their desire to control and destroy, had ultimately been their undoing.
The demons were gone, trapped in their twisted realm, and the portal in Evelyn and Martin’s apartment sealed itself shut with the couple’s souls forever lost inside.
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