They didn't speak for a long time.
Each step forward felt like stepping deeper into something they couldn't name. The trees here were thinner, but somehow it felt darker. The light overhead was filtered through layers of branches that looked like they were woven together.
"This place…" Ayaan whispered, "it's not just old. It's alive."
Rehan didn't respond. He was too focused on the way the ground had changed. The soil beneath their feet was soft—too soft. And the leaves weren't just dry—they were crunching in rhythm to their footsteps.
Like something was matching their pace underneath.
Following.
He stopped walking.
Ayaan did too. "What?"
"Listen."
They waited.
Silence.
Then…
Crunch.
Just one step behind them.
Both of them turned instantly.
No one.
But the trees behind them didn't look the same anymore.
"I swear we came from there," Ayaan said, frowning. "That tree with the crooked trunk, I marked it. Where is it now?"
Rehan's face was pale again. "We're walking in circles."
"No, we're not. We've been going straight."
Rehan's hand went into his pocket. He pulled out his compass app.
The needle spun wildly.
Then stopped.
Pointing straight up.
North.
Ayaan looked at it, then at the sky.
"No sun," he muttered. "How is it still getting darker?"
Rehan looked back again—and suddenly froze.
"Ayaan."
"What now?"
"Don't move."
Something was behind them.
Not walking.
Not running.
Just there.
They didn't turn.
They didn't speak.
Until Rehan grabbed Ayaan's arm and pulled him.
They ran—not in panic, but with quiet urgency, weaving through the trees like they somehow knew the path. Breath sharp. Heart pounding.
Until—
They stumbled out into another clearing.
But this time, it wasn't empty.
There was a tent.
Old, torn, yet clearly once meant for camping.
And inside the tent—barely visible through the fabric—was a bag.
Ayaan approached slowly. Unzipped it.
Inside: a phone. Dead. A cracked notebook. And a name tag.
He picked it up and stared.
SAMEER.
His throat tightened.
"Rehan…"
But Rehan wasn't listening.
He had stepped behind the tent—and what he saw rooted him to the spot.
A circle.
Drawn into the earth.
Made of bones.
Small ones. Large ones.
Animal… and human.
---
Back in the city…
Naira was watching old group photos now. Zooming in. Staring at Sameer's smile. Wondering how someone so full of life could just disappear.
Danish stirred awake on the couch. "Any word?"
She shook her head.
Then paused.
The last photo in her gallery flickered.
Then glitched.
For a second—just one second—Sameer's face blurred.
And something else looked out from it.
She dropped the phone.
---
In the forest...
Ayaan stared at the name tag again.
The wind picked up, rustling the pages of the cracked notebook.
He opened it.
Inside were frantic, scribbled notes.
"They're not spirits. They're echoes."
"You don't die here. You loop."
"The trees remember you. The forest remakes you."
"If you find this… I'm sorry."
Rehan sat down on a fallen log, his face blank.
"We're not here to find him," he said suddenly. "That's not what this is anymore."
Ayaan turned slowly. "Then what are we here for?"
Rehan looked up.
Eyes haunted.
"To remember what we're supposed to forget."