100.jpg)
- VideoCapture_20230804-071609.jpg (1.31 MiB) Viewed 721 times
Even though she was a divine figure, Shitala possessed an extraordinary compassionate heart, especially for her devotees. Among her numerous disciples, one particularly stood out - a humble devotee named Charkhi. Her love for him was boundless, not just for his devotion but for his pure and humble spirit. To observe his life closely, to understand his sorrows and joys, Shitala often descended from her celestial abode in a human guise. She assumed the humble persona of 'Dhopani,' a simple house-help, seamlessly blending with the mortal world.
Donned in a light-green saree, tied high to expose her mortal feet, Shitala as Dhopani was a picture of earthly elegance. The simplicity of her attire starkly contrasted with her divine form, but it bore a unique charm. Her movements were measured and graceful, like a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. The household chores she performed did not diminish her divine glow but instead added to her allure. Her countenance bore a calm and serene expression, reflecting the vast ocean of compassion within her heart. Little did anyone in the mortal realm know about the divine secret she held.
In the modest abode of Charkhi, the human and divine realms unknowingly intertwined each day. Charkhi, an ardent devotee of Devi Shitala, visited the local temple daily, oblivious to the divine presence dwelling within her own home.
As she knelt before the idol of the goddess, her eyes sparkling with innocent devotion, Charkhi would often speak her heart out. "O Divine Mother," she would begin, her voice barely a whisper in the silent sanctum, "I seek your grace and blessing. Protect our humble abode from all harm. Bestow your love upon us and guide us on the path of righteousness."
Despite her humility and devotion, Charkhi, too, was a figure of radiant beauty. Her physical allure was undeniable, a fact not lost on the many covetous eyes in her locality. Her charm, however, was not merely skin-deep. It was an extension of her inner virtue and kindness, making her even more attractive.
Unfortunately, this magnetic allure attracted not just admiration, but also malevolent intentions. Prachandanath, often referred to as 'Prachanda,' was a potent and evil Aghori black magician residing in the same vicinity. A man of tremendous powers, Prachanda's might was so formidable that it almost matched the divine strength of Devi Shitala. His ruthless cruelty and cunningness were as renowned as his power, casting a dark shadow over the lives of the townsfolk.
One day, seated within his gloomy chamber, he muttered menacingly to himself, "Goddess or mortal, they all hold an essence of divinity. Harnessing it... now that would grant me unparalleled power." His lips twisted into a wicked grin, the gleam in his eyes revealing his unspeakable intentions.
Among the many trapped in Prachanda's malicious web was his own son, Dushyant. He was a man of formidable presence, his character echoing his father's ruthlessness. His eyes had long been set on Charkhi, her beauty having captivated him. "Father," he once said, his voice reflecting an uncharacteristic softness, "I desire to wed Charkhi. She is like no other."
His son's words echoed in the eerie silence of their dwelling, marking the beginning of a nefarious plot that would intertwine the fates of Charkhi, Devi Shitala, and themselves.
Dushyant's yearning for Charkhi was palpable in his eyes, his every word echoing the intensity of his desires. Overwhelmed with his son's fervor, Prachanda decided to pay a visit to Charkhi's residence to extend a formal marriage proposal.
As he entered the humble abode of Charkhi's family, a heavy silence descended. His infamous reputation preceded him, his presence was as disturbing as a dark cloud looming over a serene landscape. He stood in front of Charkhi's father, his voice like a harsh winter wind, "I've come to seek your daughter's hand for my son. He has taken quite a liking to her."
The silence deepened as Charkhi's father contemplated his words. After what seemed like an eternity, he replied with a firm shake of his head, "Prachandanath, I respect your position, but I am well aware of your reputation. I cannot entrust my daughter's future to your family." His voice, although steady, held a hint of fear as he rejected the proposal.
This unexpected denial ignited a fierce rage within Prachandanath. The rejection was not merely a blow to his pride, but also a humiliation in front of the man he considered beneath him. His fists clenched, the muscles in his jaw tightened, and he rose from his seat, prepared to depart amidst the thick tension.
Just as Prachandanath turned to leave, the door creaked open to reveal the beautiful Dhopani. Her eyes, calm and serene, held a spark that hinted at her true divine identity. Prachanda's heart pounded in his chest, his ruthless, evil black powers instantly recognizing the divine aura shrouding her.
The sight of Dhopani, her sexy, alluring figure wrapped in a simple saree, was nothing short of bewitching. Her beauty, grace, and perfect shapely body were irresistible, causing a surge of newfound, overpowering desire within Prachandanath. The goddess he'd dreamed of overpowering, impregnating, and robbing of her divine energy stood before him in a tantalizingly human form. The allure of her divine, sexy body provoked a monstrous longing within him.
However, Prachandanath, the cunning sorcerer, knew the importance of patience. He realized he was not ready to face her, and it was wiser to wait for the opportune moment. Thus, with a final, lingering glance at Dhopani, he departed from Charkhi's abode, leaving behind a palpable tension, a silent promise of an impending storm.
The intoxicating allure of Devi Shitala had ensnared Prachanda in its grip, reducing him to a man haunted by obsessive desire. His days were filled with relentless longing, and his nights tormented by erotic dreams of her divine beauty and perfect body. His fascination for the disguised goddess intensified each day, the magnitude of his obsession turning him into a shadow lurking outside Charkhi's home, thirsting for a mere glimpse of Dhopani.
One day, as he remained concealed, he witnessed a harrowing scene. An unsavory man was stalking Charkhi, his intentions clear and vile. His heart pounded in anticipation as he saw Dhopani step in, her human guise never wavering as she courageously protected Charkhi. A subtle wave of her hand, a few quiet words, and the potential assailant retreated, terrified.
Witnessing this display of Dhopani's caring nature and her power, even in disguise, only served to stoke the fires of Prachanda's obsession. He yearned to possess her - her beauty, her body, her divine power. "She will be mine," he vowed to himself, his voice echoing ominously in the solitude.
Later that day, Prachanda summoned his son, Dushyant. He veiled his true intentions behind a seemingly sincere request, "Dushyant, I need your help. There's something in Charkhi's eyes, a spark that speaks to me. Win her heart. Make her yours." His voice held an intensity that made Dushyant curious but he did not reveal his father's identity, maintaining the facade of a simple request.
Eager to fulfill his father's wish and captivated by Charkhi's charm, Dushyant set out on his task. Little did he know the undercurrents of a dangerous plan that was brewing in his father's mind, a plan that would intertwine their fates with Charkhi and the divine goddess Shitala.
Meanwhile, Prachanda was consumed by his carnal urges for the beautiful Devi Shitala. The concoction of desire, lust, and power simmered within him, prompting him to devise a deadly plan. He began weaving an intricate web of lethal black magic, potent enough to ensnare the goddess and strip her of her divine powers for a while. His fingers moved rhythmically, drawing ominous symbols in the air as he muttered the ancient, forbidden incantations, the dark energy around him pulsing with anticipation.
Dushyant, under the guidance of his father Prachanda, began the carefully orchestrated courtship of Charkhi. He would frequent the temple, carefully portraying the image of a devout follower of Devi Shitala. His heart hammered in his chest each time he saw her, his gaze softened, and a tender smile played on his lips.
During one of these encounters, Dushyant summoned the courage to approach Charkhi. "Charkhi," he began, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the temple leaves, "I am a lonely man, abandoned by my father. He was not a good man. I am not him." His eyes, heavy with unshed emotions, met hers.
Charkhi, moved by his apparent vulnerability and sincerity, found herself gradually drawn towards him. She admired his devotion to the goddess, his charity, and his selflessness. With each passing day, her affection for him deepened, her heart unaware of the ominous trap being set by Prachanda, the man orchestrating this deceptive dance of desire.
Unbeknownst to Charkhi, her budding relationship with Dushyant was a bait in a ruthless plan. Prachanda, driven by his uncontrollable lust for Devi Shitala, was relentlessly working on a potent black magic spell. His obsession had reached fever-pitch, his carnal desires apparent in the stiff bulge in his dhoti as he thought about the beautiful goddess.
Under the dim, flickering light of his chamber, he began to recite a forbidden incantation, his voice a low growl. The air around him thickened as he crafted a spell that would enable the goddess to enter a specific location but strip her of her powers once inside, trapping her. The thought of the majestic goddess, powerless and unable to escape, ignited a perverse thrill in him. His lips curled into a wicked smile as he waited for the opportune moment to ensnare the goddess in his trap.
Meanwhile, Devi Shitala continued her earthly visits, oblivious to the impending danger, her divine instincts unaware of the imminent threat. The plot was meticulously crafted, the trap set. All that remained was for the unsuspecting prey to step into it.
The connection between Charkhi and Dushyant flourished, and the decision to marry was an inevitable outcome. When Charkhi introduced Dushyant to her father, he saw only the seemingly gentle and humble man before him, oblivious to the hidden identity that lay beneath. His approval brought a sense of relief to Charkhi, unaware that she was unknowingly playing into Prachanda's nefarious plan.
However, Shitala, ever vigilant in her disguised form as Dhopani, sensed an unsettling aura around Dushyant. Driven by her divine intuition, she decided to follow him, leaving the comfort of Charkhi's home to trail behind him. Transforming back to her true form, the goddess dressed in her tight red saree, her golden ornaments and mukut glistening under the moonlight, a sight of majestic beauty and power. Her divine aura filled the night air, but her focus remained on the task at hand.
The goddess, using her divine powers, cloaked herself from the eyes of ordinary beings, rendering herself invisible. With light, silent steps, she entered the seemingly ordinary household of Dushyant. The sight that met her was not what she expected, Prachanda sat nonchalantly on a couch, engrossed in a deep thought.
As she moved towards Dushyant's room, a sudden shiver ran down her spine. Meanwhile, Prachanda, steeped in his black magic, sensed a divine presence in his house. His senses, honed by years of dealing with the supernatural, detected an energy he had been coveting. His heart pounded with anticipation and a twisted sense of excitement.
Using his dark arts, he identified the source - Devi Shitala, the beautiful goddess he had been yearning for. The revelation brought a wicked smile to his face. His plan was falling into place faster than he had anticipated. His moment to strike was nearing, the prey was closer to the trap than ever before.
- VideoCapture_20230804-071116.jpg (741.93 KiB) Viewed 721 times
However, her progress was abruptly halted. Prachanda, who had been biding his time, cast his carefully constructed spell. The walls of the house seemed to tremble as the powerful black magic spell took hold. Suddenly, an invisible force gripped Shitala, a net of potent Garuda Kutha magic, ensnaring her.
Her body stiffened, the unexpected power of the spell was overwhelming. Her divine energy clashed with the magic, creating an intense struggle. Her face, usually so serene, contorted with the effort of battling the potent magic, her eyebrows furrowed, her lips pulled into a tight line. Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palm. Her divine aura flickered like a candle in a storm, but she refused to let it extinguish.
Meanwhile, the house emptied out as Dushyant and his mother left through the other gate. Prachanda, feeling the departure of his son, gave a sigh of relief. The stage was set; the trapped goddess and the eager magician were alone. Prachanda's eyes gleamed with anticipation, his body rigid with the expectancy of what was about to happen. His heart pounded against his chest, the beat almost like a perverse drum roll.
"Garuda Kutha," Shitala whispered, her voice choked with the strain of resisting the spell. The recognition of the potent magic did nothing to alleviate her predicament. Instead, it made her realize the gravity of the situation. The reality of her predicament hit her like a punch in the gut, making her breath hitch in her throat. Her wide eyes reflected the terror and despair that started to creep in her heart.
"Who could have known that the mighty Devi Shitala could be so helpless?" Prachanda's voice, filled with an unsettling satisfaction, broke the deafening .
The beautiful Devi Shitala could feel her divine powers waning, each passing moment making her weaker, her body heavy. She was a bird caged by the invisible forces, ensnared within the confines of Prachanda's dark magic. As the waves of helplessness washed over her, a sickening sense of fear clung onto her heart.
With trembling steps, she moved towards a window, her fingers lightly tracing its edge. Yet, she could feel the pulsating current of dark magic barring her exit. "It's like an invisible wall, an unseen barrier not letting me leave. What vicious magic is this!" She exclaimed, her voice a mere whisper. "Prachanda, you evil soul. Is this your doing? Are you responsible for this wicked plot?" She looked around, her eyes wide with fear, her heart pounding in her chest.
The silence of the room was deafening, her own racing heartbeat echoing in her ears. The only sound was her increasingly laboured breathing, the effort it took to maintain her invisibility draining her rapidly depleting energy. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, sliding down her temples, her back, soaking the sari sticking to her perfect body. The golden ornaments felt heavy, and the once radiant mukut seemed to lose its shine.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and in stepped Prachanda, his menacing presence making the room's temperature drop several degrees. Shitala could feel her heart drop. Maintaining her invisibility was a task, every ounce of her remaining power was being exerted to stay unseen, but she could feel the strain on her body, her knees growing weak, her palms sweaty.
"I cannot let him see me. I have to stay invisible, I must," She muttered to herself, the fear in her voice tangible. "If he sees me, it will be the end. But what do I do? My powers are failing me, my body is giving up."
"I know it's you, Shitala," Prachanda's voice echoed around the room. The confident proclamation sent a shiver down her spine. "I've seen you disguised as Dhopani. The sweet, innocent Dhopani... you can't leave this Garuda Kutha. Show yourself to me now, or I will be forced to use harsher means."
His threat hung in the air like a sword dangling precariously over her head. The beautiful goddess could feel her strength dwindling rapidly. Her body shook from the effort to maintain her invisibility, her breath coming in short gasps, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The reality of her predicament was terrifying.
The room felt increasingly claustrophobic to the beautiful Devi Shitala. Her energy was dwindling rapidly, each beat of her heart echoing her weakening strength. She was becoming more aware of her body than ever before - the frantic fluttering of her heart, the nervous twitches of her fingers, the persistent trembling of her lips.
Her gaze shifted erratically, her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as she tried to keep her wavering form invisible. Sweat trickled down her forehead, beads of salty fear rolling down the arch of her nose to drop onto her trembling lips. A shiver ran down her spine as she took in shaky breaths, her breasts heaving under her soaked red sari. "I...I must hold on. He... he cannot see me. Not yet," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, each word punctuated by a gasp of exertion.
For a moment, the room went eerily quiet, the silence broken by Prachanda's booming voice. "Shitala, I know you are here. Do not make it more painful than it needs to be. Reveal yourself!" His words echoed around the room, striking fear into the heart of the once powerful goddess.
- VideoCapture_20230804-071617.jpg (865.5 KiB) Viewed 721 times
He brought a bowl filled with a dark substance - evil god's blood, as he called it - and started spraying it all around. The sight of the vile substance, an abomination in the eyes of the gods, sent a wave of revulsion through Shitala's body. The mere contact of this blood was toxic to the divine, it was like acid to her, capable of causing excruciating pain and sudden evaporation of her powers.
"No... no!" she whimpered, backing away from the spattering blood. She staggered backwards, her movements desperate and erratic as she tried to avoid the shower of evil blood. Her once elegant movements were replaced with frantic desperation, her divine grace lost amidst her struggle for survival.
She willed her invisible form to move away from the harmful droplets, every muscle in her body straining in the effort. "I cannot... I cannot let it touch me!" she choked out, the fear in her voice palpable. "I am... a goddess... I am... I am Shitala!" she reminded herself, her words broken by desperate panting.
Yet the blood came in wave after wave, like a deadly rain, her situation was turning more dire with every passing second. A dark cloud of despair began to hang over the room, and over the once mighty, beautiful Devi Shitala.
The darkness of Prachandanath's lair enveloped the beautiful Devi Shitala like a crushing shroud. She could feel the tendrils of his black magic snaking around her, seeking to tighten their grip on her weakening form. The beautiful goddess was trapped, and for the first time in her divine existence, she felt truly afraid.
As Prachanda continued to shower the room with the vile substance, her mind raced, her thoughts tangled in fear and desperation. "Oh... such a dreadful predicament," she whispered to herself, her tone laden with trepidation. "I... I must not... succumb to fear... I must keep my wits... about me."
Each word was a struggle, each breath a battle. Her fear was palpable, her body trembling like a leaf in the storm. Sweat cascaded down her temples, the slickness of it a cruel reminder of her precarious situation.
From an observer's point of view, Shitala was a poignant sight. The powerful goddess was nothing more than a faint shimmer in the air, her form quivering like a mirage. There was a palpable sense of desperation in her movements, a vulnerability that was never associated with the divine.
As she continued to evade the vile blood being thrown around by Prachanda, the room seemed to close in on her. The walls appeared to sway and bend, a sickening illusion created by her fear and desperation. Her saree clung to her body, its vibrant red color fading under the strain of her efforts.
"Stay... stay hidden... cannot let him... see me," she panted to herself, her voice barely a whisper in the chaotic room. She could feel the strain on her powers, the once mighty force now just a flicker in the dark. But she was far from defeated. "I... I am... Shitala," she repeated to herself, trying to gain strength from her own words.
It was an unnerving sight to behold, the mighty goddess, once feared and respected, reduced to a shivering wisp in the darkness. Each movement she made, every evasion, every desperate gasp and shudder, was a testament to her struggle. The goddess was caught in a deadly game, her divine powers the coveted prize. Her fear was real, her danger imminent, and for the first time, Shitala was not the goddess, she was the damsel in distress.
As the relentless assault of Prachanda's vile blood raged on, Shitala moved and dodged as swiftly as her weakening form allowed, whispering fearful pleas and prayers under her breath. "Please... I beg... save me... I beg you..." The usually divine words of the goddess were reduced to whimpered supplications, each whispered plea echoing the raw fear that gripped her.
When a spray of the vile blood splashed across her feet, the pain that erupted was akin to molten lava. Shitala screamed, her anguished cry cutting through the gloom of the room. The world seemed to shrink as the pain radiated up her legs. Her once radiant skin was sullied, marred by the blackened burn marks.
"Please... no more..." she pleaded, her voice thick with pain and terror. Each word was a struggle, each breath a fire in her lungs. Her eyes were wide with fear, the usually sparkling orbs filled with terror.
Prachandanath advanced closer, the cruel smirk on his face amplifying the goddess's fear. He held more of the corrosive blood in his hands and his dark words sent a wave of despair through Shitala. "Show yourself, or I will empty this entire bowl on you..."
- VideoCapture_20230804-071147.jpg (1.04 MiB) Viewed 721 times
"I... I am... here..." Shitala whispered, her voice barely audible. Her words were not a defeat but a desperate plea. Her body shimmered as she slowly dropped her invisibility. Her usual divine glow was dulled, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and defiance.
Seeing her full form, Prachandanath's cruel smirk widened into a victorious smile. And all the while, the beautiful goddess stood before him, vulnerable and afraid, yet fiercely resilient. The sight was devastating, a heart-wrenching testament to her desperate situation.
Shitala's heart pounded heavily in her chest, her thoughts racing as Prachanda circled her. Each slow step, each lingering gaze seemed to freeze her in fear. "I am a goddess... I cannot fall... I will not..." She muttered, the words a mantra of hope amidst her growing terror. Yet, as she felt his gaze trace her form, her self-reassurances fell hollow. The fear was palpable, gripping her with icy hands.
With her strength dwindling, she dropped to her knees, the impact against the cold stone floor causing a shudder to ripple through her body. "Please... let me go..." She pleaded, her voice weak but still firm. "I am a goddess... I have a duty... I cannot..." Her voice trailed off into choked sobs, the enormity of her situation crashing over her.
Her hands were cold, her body trembling as she repeated her pleas. Each word felt like a knife to her heart, the reality of her helplessness setting in. "I beg you... let me go... before... before it's too late..." She pleaded desperately, each word an agonizing echo in the silence.
But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Prachandanath grabbed her by the hair. The sharp pain that seared through her was like a vicious reminder of her situation. As he dragged her towards the room, she gritted her teeth, her eyes stinging with tears. "I will not... I cannot... give up..." She whispered to herself, her voice barely a whisper amidst her sobs.
Inside the room, Prachanda hoisted her onto the chains, her hands bound above her head. Each motion caused jolts of pain to course through her body. Shitala bit back a scream, the taste of defeat bitter on her tongue. As the black magic started weaving its painful web around her, she couldn't help but let out a cry. "Please... I beg you... stop..." She moaned, her voice filled with desperation.
Yet, as the room filled with an eerie glow, her resolve hardened. She was a goddess. And she would not let this be her end.
The finality of her situation echoed hollowly in the silence of the room, the reality of it crashing down on Shitala in cold, ruthless waves. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, despair and fear at the forefront. Yet, amidst it all, a spark of defiance flared.
"I am a goddess," she reminded herself, the words a mantra in the face of her impending doom. "I cannot... I will not yield." She muttered, even as she felt Prachanda's hands on her, his touch sending waves of repulsion through her. His proximity, the touch of his rough hands on her divine body made her skin crawl.
As she felt his arousal pressing against her thigh, she shuddered. "No... please..." She pleaded, her voice filled with a desperation that threatened to consume her. Yet, even as she pleaded, she couldn't shake the feeling of powerlessness that gripped her.
Her sari, her protection, was stripped away, leaving her bare. Her pleas echoed around the room, each word a plea for mercy. "Please... I beg you... don't..." Her voice was filled with a desperation that tore at her heart. Yet, as the last vestige of her clothing fell away, she felt a new resolve forming.
As Prachanda revealed himself to her, she steeled herself for what was to come. She was a goddess. And even in the face of such humiliation, she would not let this man break her spirit.
"Stop..." She began, her voice firm despite the fear that laced it. "I am a goddess... I will not let you... I will not..." Her voice echoed in the room, a defiant statement amidst the despair.
With a final deep breath, she prepared herself for the inevitable, her resolve a steel armour against the impending violation. "I am a goddess..." she muttered to herself, her words a mantra of strength in the face of her despair.
In her helplessness, Shitala's mind raced, fear and desperation painting vivid pictures in her mind's eye. But with each passing second, she felt her divine powers waning, leaving her more and more vulnerable to Prachanda's cruel intentions.
"I am Devi Shitala, the goddess of power and purity. I shall not succumb to this demon," she cried out within herself. But her desperate pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as Prachanda pushed himself against her. She felt a jolt of pain, the feeling of violation far more harrowing than she could ever have imagined.
"No...no...please..." she cried, her voice choked with pain. She could only scream in agony as he thrust himself into her, each movement further stripping her of her divinity. Her once radiant body, the embodiment of divine purity, was now reduced to a mere object of this monster's lust.
With each painful push, her strength waned further, and her cries grew weaker. "I am a goddess...I am..." But her words now seemed empty and meaningless. As the horrifying reality of her situation sunk in, her mind became numb with despair. "Have I...have I lost?" she thought, her mind unable to process the tragic turn of events.
And just when she was on the verge of losing all hope, the door to the room was flung open. Charkhi, innocent and unsuspecting Charkhi, had walked in on the nightmare. "Stop! Let her go!" Charkhi cried, her voice filled with horror and disbelief.
Taking advantage of Prachanda's momentary distraction, Charkhi lunged at him with all her might, striking him on the head with a heavy metal object she had grabbed in a hurry. Prachanda crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Shitala's heart pounded in her chest, relief washing over her like a soothing balm. She was safe, for now. But she knew that the nightmare was far from over. Her once radiant body felt violated and tarnished, and her divine powers had been severely depleted. But she was still a goddess, and she vowed to reclaim her power, her dignity, and her honor.
But, for now, she was simply relieved to be alive. And for that, she was profoundly grateful to Charkhi. She looked at the young girl with tearful eyes, whispering, "Thank you, Charkhi. Thank you for saving me."
As Dushyant and Charkhi finally processed the reality of the traumatizing spectacle, Shitala's voice broke through the silence, "I... I am Devi Shitala...," she said, her voice weak but still carrying a hint of her divine strength.
Dushyant, his eyes wide with shock, quickly moved forward to untie her hands from the chains. His fingers fumbled over the cruel, cold metal that held her captive. "You...you're...," he stammered, unable to complete his sentence, unable to comprehend the depth of the atrocity his father had committed.
"Yes, Dushyant, I am a goddess," she said, her gaze meeting his. "But now I am...I am trapped in this human form, rendered weak and powerless by your father's black magic." The words sounded surreal, yet they were the harsh truth of the moment.
It was then that Charkhi noticed her naked form, her perfect body exposed in its entirety. "Why are you...naked?" she asked hesitantly, her cheeks flushing at the sight.
Shitala took a deep breath, readying herself to share the harrowing tale. "Prachanda wanted to extract my divine power, to impregnate me with his vile seed," she started, her voice quivering slightly. "He wanted an evil son born out of my divine womb, a son who could overpower and destroy other goddesses like me."
As Charkhi clothed her, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as she noticed the trickle of blood staining the fabric of her clothes. Her wide eyes met the goddess's, silently seeking an explanation.
"Prachanda...," she began, struggling to find the words, "he...he violated my body, my purity, and in the process, he broke my virginity." Her voice faltered, yet she continued, "But he did not succeed in his vile plan. I'm still pure at heart...still a goddess."
When she tried to stand, her knees gave in, her weakened body unable to support her. Dushyant quickly moved to her side, gathering her into his arms. "We need to get you out of here," he said urgently.
With Dushyant's assistance, they managed to leave the dreadful scene behind. But, as Shitala knew, the real challenge was yet to begin - to reclaim her lost powers and restore her divine purity.
TO BE CONTINUED IF I CAN HET SUITABKE RESPONSE FOR.TJENSTORYBSONFAR!
