Ayaan didn't want to believe it.
But the feather was real.
He held it in his hand now—light, soft, and oddly cold. It had a texture that felt… too smooth. Like it had never belonged to anything natural. More like it had grown in a place that defied nature altogether.
"Where did you get this?" Ayaan asked.
Rehan hesitated. "I didn't find it. It… found me."
Ayaan's gaze narrowed.
"I woke up last night," Rehan continued, "because I heard breathing. Not mine. Not my parents'. It was… closer. Right next to my ear."
Ayaan's mouth went dry.
"I turned on the light. Nothing was there. But when I stood up, this was lying on my chest."
---
They sat in silence, both boys shaken.
Then Ayaan spoke, quiet but steady.
"We need to go back."
Rehan blinked. "What? Are you insane?"
"You're not getting it. It's not just the feather. I've been seeing things. Feeling things. I think I've brought something with me. Something that doesn't belong here."
Rehan rubbed his face. "I've felt it too."
They both paused. Neither of them wanted to say it out loud—but the same thought had crossed both minds.
They weren't alone.
Not since that step.
---
Later that night, Ayaan stared at the mirror in his room.
Something had been bothering him since he got home. A feeling that he wasn't seeing everything. That something stood just outside the corner of his vision.
He looked closer.
There—on the edge of the mirror—was a faint handprint. Small, childlike, and smeared as though something had pressed it from the other side.
He backed away.
The lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then the mirror darkened—not from the room's lighting, but from within itself. Like it had become a screen… or a window.
A figure appeared.
It didn't move. It just stood. Watching.
Ayaan couldn't breathe.
He turned on all the lights. Pulled open the curtain. Played music just to drown the silence.
But no matter what he did, the feeling stayed.
Watched.
Marked.
Followed.
---
The next morning, Rehan called.
"We have a problem," he said. "Sameer's missing."