“If everything around you seems dark, look again, you may be the light.” Aishwarya, exasperated by the uninterrupted rings of the cell phone, was forced to take the call. The voice was grim, the style was twisted, and the words came quickly: “Aishwarya, I know, you are driving on the highway all alone.” The man’s voice was reverberating in the car, loud and clear, “You do not know me, but I know you. I have watched you since the day you took the case of Doll. The hopes you have nurtured, the worries you have been burdened with, the plan you have made—I know them all. I am the observer, I am the judge, jury, and also the executor. Listen carefully if you do not mend your ways. You will be punished heavily.” The intimidation was more than just words; it was a barrage of sinister threats, each one seeping through the speaker with escalated menace. The caller’s rough and ruthless tone seemed to echo in the confined space of the car, making her skin crawl. The man voiced further, “If you expose what we are doing, if you inform your fellow citizens about all the things that I am doing in the dark, we will destroy you. Just get out of this case for your sake. You don’t know what you are getting yourself into, I tell you frankly, I don’t like it. If someone has put you on a demon’s track, you better make sure the demon does not find you. You think what was done to the girl was heinous, wait until you get paid in the same coins.” Fate whispers to the warrior in Aishwarya, “You cannot withstand the storm.” And she whispers back, “I am the storm.”