The word hadn't been loud.
It hadn't echoed.
But still — the forest paused.
Not like it froze.
Not like it went quiet.
It paused.
Like it had taken a breath.
Rehan stepped back, eyes still locked on the well.
"What was that?" he asked.
Sameer tried to say something— but something else had borrowed his voice for a moment.
"I don't know," he whispered.
But Ayaan wasn't looking at either of them.
He was staring at the moss that had peeled back — now revealing not just skin-like texture… but something underneath it.
A line of teeth.
Tiny. Almost child-like. Curved into a grin.
And beneath that — more of that unfamiliar language, carved into the stone in a perfect spiral.
It wasn't a well.
It was a mouth.
Sameer turned away, gagging, hand over his face.
Rehan grabbed Ayaan's arm. "We're leaving."
"We should've left already," Ayaan muttered.
But the forest — again — didn't respond.
It wasn't holding them there.
It was waiting.
---
Back in the city…
Naira sat on Sameer's bed, still staring at the photo.
Sameer in front of the border line.
Before it had happened.
Before they'd even gone.
A date written in pencil: one week before.
She checked the photo frame again.
Nothing odd. No digital tricks.
Just a real photo, printed on glossy paper.
Except…
Sameer had never mentioned this photo. Never shown it. Never posted it.
And he definitely hadn't been alone that day.
There was a faint shadow next to him.
A figure. Half cut off by the frame.
She held it up to the light, trying to make it clearer…
…and the photo fell from her hand.
Because the shoulder she saw — the jacket — the watch…
It wasn't Sameer's.
It was Rehan's.
---
Back in the forest…
Sameer was pacing now, his voice shaking.
"This place — it knows us. It remembers everything. It's not showing us monsters. It's showing us… us."
Ayaan was still staring at the well.
"No," he said softly. "It's showing us what we've forgotten."
Rehan didn't speak.
He was too still.
A moment passed.
Then he said, "I've been here before."
Both of them turned to him.
Rehan's voice cracked. "Not the border. Not with you guys. Before that. With my father."
Sameer blinked. "What are you talking about?"
Rehan looked down, as if the memory was peeling itself off the inside of his ribs.
"There was a summer. I was maybe eight. He took me to a village. Said we were going to visit an old relative. But we never stayed in any house. Just… camped by a stream. I thought it was normal. He made it seem normal."
Ayaan asked gently, "Was it here?"
Rehan nodded. "I didn't remember until just now. The symbols. The trees. That humming noise at night."
Sameer looked between them. "What did he do?"
Rehan's voice went low. "He brought something back with him. After we came home, he changed. Got sick. Started sleepwalking. Talking in a voice that wasn't his."
A pause.
"One night, he walked out. Never came back."
---
The well began to hum.
Very softly.
Like a vibration... only the bones could feel
The spiral carvings under the moss began to glow — not with light, but with a soft pulse, like a heart beating just below the stone.
The grin of teeth stayed still.
But somehow, it felt like it was listening.
---
Back in the city…
Naira grabbed her bag.
She wasn't going to wait for things to show up again.
She headed to the city archive, the place where old zoning maps and land reports were kept.
She needed to know if the place they went... that jungle... was recorded anywhere.
When she was walking through the corridor... her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
"You're not the only one searching."
Then a second one.
"They're running out of time."
Her hands shook.
Because the phone number wasn't random.
It was registered under the name:
Sameer's Mom.
---
Back in the forest…
The humming stopped.
The trees leaned back slightly — just enough to show that the clearing behind them had changed.
A cabin stood there now.
Small. Wooden. Old.
But solid. Real.
Sameer stepped toward it.
Ayaan caught his sleeve. "Are you sure?"
Sameer didn't answer.
Because he'd seen that door before.
In a dream.
Or maybe…
It was a memory he had never earned.
---