Adultery The Swamiji

[shailu4ever]

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The crowd, lost in her, swayed in unison as though her very being was an extension of their souls.
 
For nearly an hour, she held the night in her palm. Each note was a command, each lyric an incantation, her movements liquid and hypnotic, as though the very space around her bent to her will. Every smile she gave was a spark, setting off another explosion of wild adoration.
 
She was not merely performing; she was presiding over an event of cosmic importance, a living legend bathed in gold and light.
 
But then, something changed.
 
As the final, climactic note built toward its peak, the air itself seemed to shift. 

From the darkened edges of the stage, a thin ribbon of golden smoke began to curl upward, barely noticeable at first. 

The crowd, too caught up in the music’s intoxicating rhythm, didn’t notice at first.
 
But as the smoke thickened, a collective shudder rippled through the audience.
 
It no longer floated lazily, this mist, this ethereal presence, moved with purpose. It unfurled and spiraled, wrapping itself around Kiara in tendrils of saffron gold, as if some unseen hand had reached down from the heavens to claim her.
 
The audience, still swept up in their frenzy, cheered louder, convinced this was merely an effect, part of the grand theatrical magic they had come to expect. But the smoke did not dissipate as stage effects usually do. It lingered, thickened, swirling with intent.
 
The golden mist was alive, it seemed to pulse, as though it had a life of its own, weaving around Kiara like a cloak of mystery.
 
Then, something darker happened. The band faltered. The drummer’s sticks slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the stage like the faintest sign of impending doom. A guitarist froze mid-strum, staring, transfixed and wide-eyed, at the scene unfolding before him.

Kiara’s voice, until then flawless and steady, cracked, a single, fleeting break in the melodic flow. And then, just as the audience teetered on the edge of something extraordinary, the music faltered completely.
 
A strange, rhythmic chant began to emanate from the speakers. It was ancient, primal, the deep reverberations of a forgotten language, echoing across the air. The sound vibrated through every bone in the stadium, sending a chill down the spine of even the most ardent fan.
 
 
The chant grew louder, its rhythm almost hypnotic, as though the very sound of it was pulling the crowd into a trance.

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