Ayan stepped off the elevator into the room, instantly feeling the suffocating weight of the place. The air was thick with a sinister aura that wrapped around him like invisible hands, each finger pressing deeper into his chest. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the towering statues of gods from every faith—Christian, Hindu, Muslim, Judaism. The sheer size of the statues was overwhelming, their cold, stone eyes watching him from every corner, almost as if they were judging his very soul.
In the center of it all stood Nitya in MALE form. Dressed in a sleek, long black suit that shimmered in the low light, his presence was both regal and unnerving.
His short, perfectly combed hair and clean-shaven face gave him an air of authority, but his expression—a twisted smirk—sent a shiver down Ayan's spine. Nitya moved languidly through the room, pausing in front of each statue, his gaze meeting their lifeless eyes with a mocking, patronizing sneer.
