Chapter 1: The Silence of Colour Aryan pushed the door open slowly. It creaked, breaking the thick silence inside the room. Neel’s art studio was dark and quiet. The smell of old paint, turpentine, and dust filled the air. It felt cold—not just in temperature, but in a strange, hollow way. He stood there for a moment without moving. The place didn’t feel the same. Something was wrong. Very wrong. This was the same studio where Neel had once worked every single day. The walls used to be covered in large, colourful paintings. His brushes were always busy, his hands stained with paint, and his mind full of wild ideas. There was always music playing, and sometimes Aryan would sit in the corner, watching Neel lose himself in the colours and shapes.
Shadows of Truth - 1
Shadows of Truth (Author Jayakrishnan km)Chapter 1: The Silence of ColourAryan pushed the door open slowly. It creaked, breaking thick silence inside the room. Neel’s art studio was dark and quiet. The smell of old paint, turpentine, and dust filled the air. It felt cold—not just in temperature, but in a strange, hollow way.He stood there for a moment without moving.The place didn’t feel the same. Something was wrong. Very wrong.This was the same studio where Neel had once worked every single day. The walls used to be covered in large, colourful paintings. His brushes were always busy, his ...Read More
Shadows of Truth - 2
Chapter 2: The First ClueThe night had turned darker than usual. Clouds hung low over the city like heavy thick with the promise of rain. The streetlights flickered in the misty air, their glow soft and yellow against the wet asphalt. Aryan zipped his jacket up to his chin as he walked beside Ananya, their footsteps echoing softly along the empty pavement.There was a strange silence tonight.Usually, this part of the city would be alive with sound—horns honking, music from cafés, the distant chatter of people. But tonight, it was as if the whole city had taken a deep ...Read More
Shadows of Truth - 3
Chapter 3: Shadows of the PastThe morning sun barely reached Aryan’s apartment. Thick gray clouds hung low outside the casting a dull light over the cramped room. Papers were scattered across the table—old photographs, wrinkled notebook pages, copies of sketches, and printouts of the strange red symbol Neel had hidden in his final painting. But no matter how much Aryan stared at the symbol, it refused to reveal its meaning.He ran a hand through his messy hair and leaned back in his chair. Sleep had been impossible. That image—the swirling black chaos and the glowing red symbol at its ...Read More