Sameer didn't speak at first.
The forest didn't press him.
But the silence did.
Ayaan took a step closer, and Rehan didn't move, but his stare said it all.
The air was thick, and that burnt-smell lingered — like a warning had already been set on fire and now they were standing in its ashes.
Sameer's eyes stayed on the ground.
"I found the journal last summer," he finally said. "Hidden in one of the old boxes my uncle brought from the village."
"The one who passed?" Ayaan asked.
Sameer nodded. "He lived in a place near the hills. I never cared to ask much about it — we weren't close. But the journal… it had drawings. Symbols. A map. And something about a border that keeps things in."
Rehan's fists tightened. "And you thought it would be fun to turn that into a night trip?"
Sameer looked up, the guilt clear now. "I didn't believe any of it. I swear. I thought it was a prank — just some crazy old villager writing stories to scare people."
"But you brought us there," Ayaan said, voice low. "And when I crossed that line—"
"You woke it," Rehan finished.
Sameer shook his head, almost panicked. " I had no idea that would happen."
A breeze passed through their faces.
No birds. No rustle.
Just that sound again.
Breath.
But not theirs.
Something around them — listening. Breathing. Waiting.
Sameer glanced behind him. "The journal mentioned something else…"
"What?"
"Not just a border. A… seal. Something buried. Something meant to stay forgotten. A history that shouldn't be found."
Rehan stepped forward. "Where's the journal now?"
"I burned it."
A beat.
Ayaan spoke, quiet but sharp. "When?"
"I burned it the night after I saw the feather too. I don't know if any of you noticed… but by then, I knew something had followed us."
"You thought destroying it would stop everything," Rehan said bitterly.
Sameer nodded.
"You were wrong."
---
Back in the city…
Naira was standing in the hallway, staring at the word on the mirror.
CONFESS.
The exact same one Sameer had shown her once — joking, like it was graffiti.
But now it was here.
Fresh. Ink still dripping.
She backed away.
The hallway stretched behind her like it was growing longer.
And somewhere in the house — a creak.
She turned toward the noise.
The kitchen.
But instead of walking toward it, she turned toward Sameer's old room.
She pushed the door.
It groaned open.
And inside, on the desk — was a notebook.
Not the one Sameer carried around.
This one was older.
She picked it up and flipped it open.
It wasn't blank.
Page after page filled with sketches. Notes. Rough maps.
And one symbol.
The same one Rehan had seen on the tree.
---
Back in the forest…
Sameer sat down — not from exhaustion, but from something heavier.
"I had dreams about this place before we even went there," he confessed. "I thought they were just that. Dreams. But the border… the faces… they were in my sleep before they were real."
"You never told us," Ayaan muttered.
"Would you have believed me?"
Rehan didn't answer.
But his silence was an answer on its own.
---
In Naira's hands, the journal pages shifted as she turned them. And between the last pages, something was folded.
A letter.
It was addressed to Sameer.
But the handwriting was... hers.
No.
Not hers.
But eerily similar.
And the paper was dated — three years ago.
The year Sameer's mother had died.
Naira felt the floor sway under her feet.
This wasn't a haunted house.
This was a mirror.
And she was looking into a memory that wasn't hers — but knew her anyway.
---
Back in the forest…
Rehan knelt beside the coffin again.
The lid was still cracked.
Still untouched.
Still breathing.
"What happens if we open it?" he asked, more to the forest than to them.
Sameer looked away.
Ayaan stared at the word:
CONFESS.
And whispered,
"Maybe it's not about the coffin. Maybe it's us. Maybe we're the ones who've been locked."
The forest didn't answer.
But something behind the trees shifted.
The kind of movement that doesn't belong to shadows — but to memories not yet faced.
---