They ran.
Branches clawed at their arms. Roots twisted underfoot like the forest wanted to keep them there.
The crimson mist clung to their backs, thick and warm like breath. The hum beneath the earth hadn't stopped — it pulsed through the ground, through their legs, into their ribs.
Ayaan stumbled but Rehan caught him, dragging him up again. Neither spoke. Words would've made it real.
They didn't stop until they reached the river — or what was supposed to be the river. It had thinned to a dark, shallow stream, reflecting nothing. Just black. Empty.
Rehan bent over, coughing. His hands were trembling. "Did you hear it?"
Ayaan didn't respond.
He didn't want to say yes. Didn't want to admit the voice — his voice — had called from inside the ruins. Not Sameer's. Not an echo.
His.
Like the forest had memorized them.
"I don't think we're going the right way," Ayaan said finally.
Rehan stood slowly, wiped his face. "No… I think the forest moved."
Ayaan stared at him. "What?"
Rehan didn't blink. "I'm telling you. This isn't the path we came through. This wasn't here."
He was right.
The trees were denser. Too symmetrical. Like they'd been… placed. And behind them, the mist still curled, waiting.
"We need to climb something," Rehan muttered. "Get a view. Re-orient."
They found a boulder with enough height. Rehan climbed first, hand over foot. Ayaan followed.
From the top — their breath caught.
There were no paths. No road. No ruined archway. No sign of the old trail.
Just trees.
Endless.
Twisting slightly, like they were listening.
"How is this possible?" Ayaan's voice was barely a whisper.
Rehan turned to him, eyes haunted. "It doesn't want us to leave."
Suddenly — a sharp crack.
Not from below.
From behind.
Both boys turned, startled.
A figure stood just beyond the mist. Human-shaped. Still.
Too still.
It didn't move toward them.
It waited.
Ayaan's voice cracked, "That's not Sameer."
"I know," Rehan said.
The figure raised a hand — not to wave, but to point.
Not at them.
At something behind them.
They turned again.
There — carved faintly into the boulder they stood on — was a word.
Familiar.
Burned in.
"Third."
Rehan stepped back like it bit him. "No… no, we didn't speak any name. We didn't open anything."
Ayaan's voice dropped. "We thought about it."
Silence.
Then, the hum from the forest grew louder — this time not under the earth.
From the trees.
From above.
The branches were shifting.
Turning.
Tilting inward — as if folding the sky closed.
Ayaan grabbed Rehan's arm. "We need to move. Now."
They slid down the rock and ran. Again.
But it didn't feel like escape anymore.
It felt like delay.
Like whatever was coming… was just giving them time.
Time to realize that it had always been watching.
Time to realize…
They never should have come back.
They didn't know how long they ran.
The sun was still there—somewhere—but it felt muted. Like it couldn't break through the thick air anymore. No shadows. Just a dull glow that seemed to come from nowhere.
Ayaan's chest burned. Rehan limped slightly, still recovering from when his ankle twisted against the hidden stone back near the ruins.
But it wasn't just exhaustion weighing them down anymore.
It was that feeling—the sense that they were being… herded.
Not chased. Herded. Steered.
Every time they tried to turn a different way, the trees got thicker. The path would vanish. The air would grow heavier.
"You feel it too, right?" Rehan asked between breaths.
"Yeah," Ayaan said, barely able to speak. "It's… guiding us."
"Towhere?"
He didn't answer.
Because somewhere in his gut, Ayaan already knew.
To her.
That shape in the mist.
That thing that pointed.
That presence that wasn't angry—but aware.
Rehan stopped suddenly. Held his arm out. "Listen."
Ayaan froze.
No birds.
No leaves rustling.
But underneath it—like a pressure behind the ears—breathing.
Long. Slow. Inhuman.
And then—just faintly—a sound they did recognize.
A ringtone.
They spun toward it. It came again, distant but clear.
Nokia classic ringtone. Sameer's.
It was impossible, but it was real.
They ran toward it.
Branches scraped Ayaan's face, but he didn't stop. Rehan called out, "Sameer?" but there was no reply.
Only the ringtone. Again and again.
Then silence.
They burst into a small clearing—and stopped cold.
Ayaan's stomach dropped.
There, lying neatly on a flat rock, was Sameer's phone.
Screen cracked.
Still buzzing.
No other footprints.
No Sameer.
Rehan bent forward, picked it up.
The moment his fingers touched it—the ringtone stopped.
The screen flickered.
A new notification.
One word.
"Closer."
And then… the forest sighed.
As if exhaling. As if pleased.
Ayaan looked up.
The trees were smiling.
Not with mouths. Not with lips.
With intent.
Like they had been waiting for this part.
And deep, deep down… something stirred.