Ayaan didn't move.
Couldn't.
There was breathing behind him. Not loud. Not fast. Just… steady. Measured. Like someone standing too close in a place where no one should be.
His spine locked.
Then the breathing stopped.
And he was alone again.
He turned, slow. Nothing. Just trees, the half-broken swing swaying lazily, and that same red thread — moving like someone had just let it go.
His throat was dry. He tried to swallow, but it stuck.
Where the hell was Rehan?
A distant sound pulled him from the panic — a soft clink... clink… like metal on stone. Repetitive. It came from deeper in the ruins.
He shouldn't follow it. Every nerve in his body screamed not to.
But he did.
Because Rehan could be there. Sameer could be. Or something worse.
The path narrowed. Branches scratched his arms. Vines tugged at his shoes. The sound was louder now. Sharper. Clink. Clink.
And then, stairs — carved into the earth, like an old cellar swallowed by time. Damp air pushed up from below, cool against his flushed face.
He took the steps slowly. Each one feeling heavier than the last.
At the bottom, he stopped breathing.
Rehan was there. Tied to a stone pillar, red thread coiled around his limbs like rope, tight enough to leave marks. His head lolled forward, barely conscious.
Ayaan rushed forward. "Rehan! Hey—hey, I'm here, okay? What the hell is this? Who did this?"
Rehan's voice was hoarse. "Don't touch the threads. They— They don't like it."
Ayaan paused, his hands inches from the red cord.
Then a whisper — soft and low — slithered through the room.
Not from behind him.
From the stone.
He turned slowly. The carvings on the walls… they weren't just decorative. They were moving. Shifting, like ink bleeding underwater.
And the floor —
Handprints. Dozens. Tiny. Burned into the stone as if children had pressed their palms there — and never pulled them away.
He backed up, his legs stiff. "What is this place…"
Rehan looked at him, pale and afraid. "We shouldn't have come this far."
On the wall, a phrase had been smeared in what looked like charred ash:
"It begins again when the third speaks the name."
Ayaan blinked at it. "What name?"
Rehan's eyes darkened. "You said it, didn't you? Out loud?"
"No… I don't—" His voice faltered. Had he? He thought he whispered Sameer's name earlier. But what if…?
Before he could finish, the ground trembled beneath their feet.
A low, awful hum filled the air — like the whole place was taking a breath.
Rehan shouted, "Ayaan—cut me loose!"
Ayaan tried to undo the thread, but the moment he touched it, it burned. Like wire heated from inside. He winced, then looked around wildly, grabbed a broken stone, and started hacking at it.
The thread fought back. With every hit, it snapped tighter around Rehan's wrist.
"Hurry!" Rehan gasped.
One more strike. The threads unraveled.
Rehan collapsed forward, wheezing.
"Get up," Ayaan panted. "We have to go."
They climbed the stairs fast, slipping, shoulders brushing stone walls. The tunnel groaned behind them, like something old and heavy was waking up.
And just before they reached the surface—
A voice echoed up from below.
It wasn't Sameer's voice.
It was their own.
Calling them back.