COSMICc
Newbie
So here's TRAILER for upcomig dark novel..
## UNWANTED DARKNESS IN BRIGHTEST MINDS
There are two types of darkness.
One that lives in the world.
And one that lives in you.
The second one is worse.
Because the world doesn’t need to defeat you…
your own mind is enough.
It began in four different corners of the planet…
on four different nights…
when the world was asleep, and the universe was listening.
A letter arrived.
Not by courier.
Not by email.
Not by any traceable source.
It arrived like a decision already made.
The kind of letter that doesn’t ask for permission—
it simply enters your life the way death enters a heartbeat.
In the outskirts of Geneva, inside a quantum research facility buzzing with clean energy and colder ambition, Dr. Rudra Vedant found it waiting on his desk.
No security footage showed anyone entering his cabin.
No fingerprints existed on the paper.
And yet the letter was there…
as if it had always belonged to that table.
Rudra stared at it for a long time.
The envelope wasn’t paper. It felt like pressed skin.
Not human skin.
Something older.
And when he touched it—just for a second—
the lights above his head flickered like they were afraid.
He laughed under his breath, the way scientists laugh at superstition.
But deep inside, something whispered:
“You should not have touched it.”
He opened it.
The inside carried symbols that shouldn’t have been together.
Ancient Devanagari.
Sanskrit ligatures not used anymore.
Fragments of Brahmi.
Patterns that resembled Mayan.
And beneath them, a flow of shapes that looked like pure mathematics… like quantum equations… but alive.
Rudra’s breath slowed.
Not because he didn’t understand it.
Because his mind understood too much, too fast.
At the bottom, a single line stood in perfect English, written as if it was carved rather than inked:
“DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN YOU?”
Rudra smiled again, but this time it wasn’t confidence.
It was the smile of a man who found a new obsession.
He whispered, almost lovingly
“Who the hell are you?”
And the letter… answered him.
Not in words.
The ink twitched.
Like a vein.
Far away in Oxford, in an ancient manuscript room where the air smelled of dust, intellect, and history’s arrogance, Professor Meera Shastri received the same letter.
The librarian swore it wasn’t there a minute ago.
But it was.
The envelope had no stamp.
No sender.
Only a circular symbol sealed with something that looked like wax…
except the wax was black and shining like wet coal.
Meera broke the seal carefully.
She had touched the oldest texts in the world.
She had read scripts that made normal people dizzy.
She was the kind of woman who didn’t fear ghosts
she feared ignorance.
But the moment she saw the script, her fingers trembled slightly.
Because the letter wasn’t written in just one language.
It was written in layers.
As if someone had written it for different versions of her mind.
One layer was readable.
One layer was felt.
And one layer was… watching her back.
She leaned closer, eyes sharp.
Her lips formed the Sanskrit syllables automatically, like her soul remembered them from another life.
Then she stopped.
Because she realized something that made her spine go cold.
This was not handwriting.
This was not print.
This was not even ink.
This was an imprint of thought.
Like someone had taken a consciousness and pressed it into paper.
At the bottom, the same line:
“DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN YOU?”
Meera’s mouth dried.
The proud scholar in her wanted to laugh.
But another part of her—
a silent, hidden part—
felt excited.
Because if this letter existed…
then something else existed too.
Something forbidden.
Something she wasn’t supposed to know.
And she had spent her whole life chasing exactly that.
She whispered:
“Yes.
And immediately, the candle near her desk blew out, even though there was no wind.
In Tokyo, where neon lights drown shadows but never erase them, Arjun Rathore received the letter during a live paranormal investigation.
His followers watched him laugh at fear for a living.
His equipment could detect cold spots, EMF fluctuations, unknown frequencies.
He had faced haunted hospitals, cursed forests, death rituals.
He had seen things that made grown men pray like children.
But the moment the letter came near him…
his camera shut down.
Then his phone died.
Then his body went completely still
as if something had grabbed his nervous system from the inside.
His teammate asked, “Bro… you okay?”
Arjun didn’t answer.
Because he couldn’t.
He was busy hearing a voice inside his skull:
“You don’t hunt darkness, Arjun.”
“You feed it.”
Arjun forced himself to open the envelope.
The script inside was unlike anything he had captured.
Not because it was ancient.
But because it was… personal.
The letter didn’t feel like it was written to his name.
It felt like it was written to his trauma.
The final sentence was the same:
“DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN YOU?”
Arjun’s jaw tightened.
His whole career was built on facing horror.
So he laughed.
But it wasn’t a laugh of bravery.
It was a laugh of a man who wanted a war.
“I’ve been waiting,” he muttered.
And somewhere unseen, something smiled back.
And then…
in the Himalayas, where the air is thin enough to make even thoughts quiet, a man sat in meditation.
No phone.
No fame.
No audience.
Only breath.
Only silence.
Only mountains standing like ancient guardians.
His name was Swami Vyomketu Anagh.
A sanyasi whose mind was sharper than most scientists, and whose soul carried the weight of something unsaid.
He lived where people came to find salvation.
But salvation was not what he was searching for.
He was searching for forgiveness.
Because long before he became a Swami…
he had been something else.
Someone else.
And he had left behind a darkness the world didn’t know.
A shadow that didn’t die.
A shadow that followed him into saffron.
A shadow that sat beside him even during prayer.
When the letter arrived, it didn’t fall from a courier.
It didn’t come by a traveler.
It simply appeared near his water pot.
Like it had manifested from the same air he was breathing.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Looked at the envelope.
And instead of surprise…
he showed recognition.
His eyes didn’t widen.
They softened.
Like a man who finally saw the face of an old enemy.
Or an old truth.
He opened the letter.
Read the line.
“DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN YOU?”
Swami Vyomketu didn’t smile.
He didn’t laugh.
He didn’t tremble.
He only whispered:
“Not again…”
And then, quietly, as if confessing to God
“…but I know I must.”
Four minds.
Four worlds.
Four kinds of brightness.
All born in India…
but scattered across the globe like destiny’s broken beads.
They did not know each other.
They did not plan to meet.
They did not even believe in the same reality.
But the letter…
was not asking them to come together.
It was "summoning them".
Because it wasn’t a letter.
It was an invitation.
And invitations like these… don’t get ignored.
Some people think darkness is just evil.
But real darkness is more intelligent.
More silent.
More patient.
Real darkness doesn’t shout
It convinces.
It doesn’t attack your body
It edits your morality.
It doesn’t break your door
It becomes your thought.
And the most terrifying truth is:
The brightest minds create the darkest monsters.
Not because they want to.
Because they are capable.
The next night, each of them found a new message hidden in the paper, visible only under moonlight.
A location.
A time.
A sentence written like a commandment:
“COME TO VARANASI.”
“COME ALONE.”
“BRING YOUR TRUTH.”
And below that…
a final line that felt less like ink and more like prophecy:
“YOUR DARKNESS IS WAITING FOR YOU.”
They would all arrive in Varanasi, thinking they were going to solve a mystery.
But they were actually walking into a mirror.
Not a normal mirror.
A mirror that didn’t show faces.
A mirror that showed intention.
The moment they stepped into the ancient city, the air itself changed.
Not spiritually.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
As if reality was thinner there.
Like something was closer than it should be.
They met at the ghats under a sky that looked too still.
They looked at each other with human judgment first.
Scientist’s pride.
Scholar’s sharpness.
Hunter’s suspicion.
Sanyasi’s silence.
And then they showed each other the letter.
The same script.
The same question.
The same strange feeling that the paper wasn’t paper.
That it was alive.
That night, the door beneath the ghat opened.
A hidden entrance.
A staircase leading down into darkness that didn’t feel empty.
It felt occupied.
It felt like something was waiting below…
something ancient…
something hungry…
something that knew their names before they were born.
As the four of them stepped into it, the last sound they heard was the river flowing above them…
and the first sound they heard below was whispering.
Not whispers of spirits.
But whispers of themselves.
Their own voices saying things they never said aloud.
Things they never dared to accept.
Rudra heard:
“You don’t want truth. You want control.”
Meera heard:
“You don’t seek knowledge. You seek power.”
Arjun heard:
“You don’t protect people. You enjoy the fear.”
Swami Vyomketu heard:
“You don’t want liberation. You wa
nt escape.”
And then, from deep inside the darkness…
a voice spoke in a tone that felt like it came from inside their bones:
“WELCOME.”
“TO YOURSELF.”
And the door closed behind them.
UNWANTED DARKNESS IN BRIGHTEST MINDS
A story where ghosts are real…
demons exist…
but the scariest entity is the human mind.
Because the darkest possession is not by a spirit.
It is by your own hidden nature.
And once you see it…
you can never unsee it.
Not even in the light.
## UNWANTED DARKNESS IN BRIGHTEST MINDS
There are two types of darkness.
One that lives in the world.
And one that lives in you.
The second one is worse.
Because the world doesn’t need to defeat you…
your own mind is enough.
It began in four different corners of the planet…
on four different nights…
when the world was asleep, and the universe was listening.
A letter arrived.
Not by courier.
Not by email.
Not by any traceable source.
It arrived like a decision already made.
The kind of letter that doesn’t ask for permission—
it simply enters your life the way death enters a heartbeat.
In the outskirts of Geneva, inside a quantum research facility buzzing with clean energy and colder ambition, Dr. Rudra Vedant found it waiting on his desk.
No security footage showed anyone entering his cabin.
No fingerprints existed on the paper.
And yet the letter was there…
as if it had always belonged to that table.
Rudra stared at it for a long time.
The envelope wasn’t paper. It felt like pressed skin.
Not human skin.
Something older.
And when he touched it—just for a second—
the lights above his head flickered like they were afraid.
He laughed under his breath, the way scientists laugh at superstition.
But deep inside, something whispered:
“You should not have touched it.”
He opened it.
The inside carried symbols that shouldn’t have been together.
Ancient Devanagari.
Sanskrit ligatures not used anymore.
Fragments of Brahmi.
Patterns that resembled Mayan.
And beneath them, a flow of shapes that looked like pure mathematics… like quantum equations… but alive.
Rudra’s breath slowed.
Not because he didn’t understand it.
Because his mind understood too much, too fast.
At the bottom, a single line stood in perfect English, written as if it was carved rather than inked:
“DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN YOU?”
Rudra smiled again, but this time it wasn’t confidence.
It was the smile of a man who found a new obsession.
He whispered, almost lovingly
“Who the hell are you?”
And the letter… answered him.
Not in words.
The ink twitched.
Like a vein.
Far away in Oxford, in an ancient manuscript room where the air smelled of dust, intellect, and history’s arrogance, Professor Meera Shastri received the same letter.
The librarian swore it wasn’t there a minute ago.
But it was.
The envelope had no stamp.
No sender.
Only a circular symbol sealed with something that looked like wax…
except the wax was black and shining like wet coal.
Meera broke the seal carefully.
She had touched the oldest texts in the world.
She had read scripts that made normal people dizzy.
She was the kind of woman who didn’t fear ghosts
she feared ignorance.
But the moment she saw the script, her fingers trembled slightly.
Because the letter wasn’t written in just one language.
It was written in layers.
As if someone had written it for different versions of her mind.
One layer was readable.
One layer was felt.
And one layer was… watching her back.
She leaned closer, eyes sharp.
Her lips formed the Sanskrit syllables automatically, like her soul remembered them from another life.
Then she stopped.
Because she realized something that made her spine go cold.
This was not handwriting.
This was not print.
This was not even ink.
This was an imprint of thought.
Like someone had taken a consciousness and pressed it into paper.
At the bottom, the same line:
“DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN YOU?”
Meera’s mouth dried.
The proud scholar in her wanted to laugh.
But another part of her—
a silent, hidden part—
felt excited.
Because if this letter existed…
then something else existed too.
Something forbidden.
Something she wasn’t supposed to know.
And she had spent her whole life chasing exactly that.
She whispered:
“Yes.
And immediately, the candle near her desk blew out, even though there was no wind.
In Tokyo, where neon lights drown shadows but never erase them, Arjun Rathore received the letter during a live paranormal investigation.
His followers watched him laugh at fear for a living.
His equipment could detect cold spots, EMF fluctuations, unknown frequencies.
He had faced haunted hospitals, cursed forests, death rituals.
He had seen things that made grown men pray like children.
But the moment the letter came near him…
his camera shut down.
Then his phone died.
Then his body went completely still
as if something had grabbed his nervous system from the inside.
His teammate asked, “Bro… you okay?”
Arjun didn’t answer.
Because he couldn’t.
He was busy hearing a voice inside his skull:
“You don’t hunt darkness, Arjun.”
“You feed it.”
Arjun forced himself to open the envelope.
The script inside was unlike anything he had captured.
Not because it was ancient.
But because it was… personal.
The letter didn’t feel like it was written to his name.
It felt like it was written to his trauma.
The final sentence was the same:
“DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN YOU?”
Arjun’s jaw tightened.
His whole career was built on facing horror.
So he laughed.
But it wasn’t a laugh of bravery.
It was a laugh of a man who wanted a war.
“I’ve been waiting,” he muttered.
And somewhere unseen, something smiled back.
And then…
in the Himalayas, where the air is thin enough to make even thoughts quiet, a man sat in meditation.
No phone.
No fame.
No audience.
Only breath.
Only silence.
Only mountains standing like ancient guardians.
His name was Swami Vyomketu Anagh.
A sanyasi whose mind was sharper than most scientists, and whose soul carried the weight of something unsaid.
He lived where people came to find salvation.
But salvation was not what he was searching for.
He was searching for forgiveness.
Because long before he became a Swami…
he had been something else.
Someone else.
And he had left behind a darkness the world didn’t know.
A shadow that didn’t die.
A shadow that followed him into saffron.
A shadow that sat beside him even during prayer.
When the letter arrived, it didn’t fall from a courier.
It didn’t come by a traveler.
It simply appeared near his water pot.
Like it had manifested from the same air he was breathing.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Looked at the envelope.
And instead of surprise…
he showed recognition.
His eyes didn’t widen.
They softened.
Like a man who finally saw the face of an old enemy.
Or an old truth.
He opened the letter.
Read the line.
“DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN YOU?”
Swami Vyomketu didn’t smile.
He didn’t laugh.
He didn’t tremble.
He only whispered:
“Not again…”
And then, quietly, as if confessing to God
“…but I know I must.”
Four minds.
Four worlds.
Four kinds of brightness.
All born in India…
but scattered across the globe like destiny’s broken beads.
They did not know each other.
They did not plan to meet.
They did not even believe in the same reality.
But the letter…
was not asking them to come together.
It was "summoning them".
Because it wasn’t a letter.
It was an invitation.
And invitations like these… don’t get ignored.
Some people think darkness is just evil.
But real darkness is more intelligent.
More silent.
More patient.
Real darkness doesn’t shout
It convinces.
It doesn’t attack your body
It edits your morality.
It doesn’t break your door
It becomes your thought.
And the most terrifying truth is:
The brightest minds create the darkest monsters.
Not because they want to.
Because they are capable.
The next night, each of them found a new message hidden in the paper, visible only under moonlight.
A location.
A time.
A sentence written like a commandment:
“COME TO VARANASI.”
“COME ALONE.”
“BRING YOUR TRUTH.”
And below that…
a final line that felt less like ink and more like prophecy:
“YOUR DARKNESS IS WAITING FOR YOU.”
They would all arrive in Varanasi, thinking they were going to solve a mystery.
But they were actually walking into a mirror.
Not a normal mirror.
A mirror that didn’t show faces.
A mirror that showed intention.
The moment they stepped into the ancient city, the air itself changed.
Not spiritually.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
As if reality was thinner there.
Like something was closer than it should be.
They met at the ghats under a sky that looked too still.
They looked at each other with human judgment first.
Scientist’s pride.
Scholar’s sharpness.
Hunter’s suspicion.
Sanyasi’s silence.
And then they showed each other the letter.
The same script.
The same question.
The same strange feeling that the paper wasn’t paper.
That it was alive.
That night, the door beneath the ghat opened.
A hidden entrance.
A staircase leading down into darkness that didn’t feel empty.
It felt occupied.
It felt like something was waiting below…
something ancient…
something hungry…
something that knew their names before they were born.
As the four of them stepped into it, the last sound they heard was the river flowing above them…
and the first sound they heard below was whispering.
Not whispers of spirits.
But whispers of themselves.
Their own voices saying things they never said aloud.
Things they never dared to accept.
Rudra heard:
“You don’t want truth. You want control.”
Meera heard:
“You don’t seek knowledge. You seek power.”
Arjun heard:
“You don’t protect people. You enjoy the fear.”
Swami Vyomketu heard:
“You don’t want liberation. You wa
nt escape.”
And then, from deep inside the darkness…
a voice spoke in a tone that felt like it came from inside their bones:
“WELCOME.”
“TO YOURSELF.”
And the door closed behind them.
UNWANTED DARKNESS IN BRIGHTEST MINDS
A story where ghosts are real…
demons exist…
but the scariest entity is the human mind.
Because the darkest possession is not by a spirit.
It is by your own hidden nature.
And once you see it…
you can never unsee it.
Not even in the light.
