Ayaan didn't remember walking home.
The swing.
The red thread.
The words carved into the wood:
"One by one, they'll vanish."
They looped in his mind like a whisper he couldn't mute.
Now back in his room, he kept glancing at the floor, half-expecting it to creak again. It didn't. Just silence. That should've been comforting.
It wasn't.
He texted Rehan.
Ayaan:
"You free?"
Rehan:
"Yeah. Come over?"
Ayaan:
"I need to show you something."
---
An hour later, Ayaan was sitting across from Rehan in his room. The same room where they'd once played video games and argued over snacks like kids.
Now, both of them sat in silence. Ayaan finally pulled out his phone and showed him the photo he'd snapped of the swing.
Rehan leaned in, squinting.
"The thread," he said. "Same as the one we saw at the border…"
"And read what's carved."
Rehan stared. Then looked up, eyes slightly wide. "What do you think?! Is it about us?!"
"Maybe, I don't know," Ayaan said, running his hand through his hair. "But Sameer is gone. And this shows up? It's not a coincidence."
Rehan's leg bounced nervously. "Bro, we were there for what—ten minutes? We didn't even do anything."
Ayaan gave him a look.
Rehan hesitated. "Okay, fine. The feather. That weird wind. And your dreams. I'm not saying nothing's wrong. But what are we supposed to do now?"
"I think…" Ayaan paused. "I think we need to go back."
Rehan blinked. "Back to that place?"
"Yes."
"You've lost your mind."
"Maybe. But I'm not waiting for the next message to show up carved into my window."
---
The next morning, they left early.
No goodbyes. No explanations.
Just a backpack with a flashlight, an old map Rehan found online, and enough water to last the day.
They took the long road out of town, the one that curved past the lake and ended near the hill that marked the border. The place they had sworn never to return to.
By midday, they stood beneath the same tree. The thread was gone. But something else was there now—scratches on the bark. Not natural ones. Deep, deliberate.
A word carved over and over:
"WAKE."
The wind picked up. This time, it didn't whistle. It howled.
Rehan flinched. "Okay, we've seen it. Let's go."
But Ayaan stepped forward. His eyes were fixed on something near the base of the tree.
A small box. Half-buried in the soil. Wooden, old, and sealed with a single nail.
He reached for it.
Rehan grabbed his wrist. "Don't. What if it's cursed?"
Ayaan looked at him. "What if it's a clue?"
With a rock, he pried it open.
Inside was a torn piece of cloth. And wrapped inside it—
A phone.
Sameer's.
The screen was cracked, but as Ayaan pressed the side button, it flickered to life.
One message.
Drafts → Unsent:
"If you're reading this... it's not just the tree. There's something beneath. I heard it. I saw..."
The message ended there.
No signal. No photos. Just that.
Both boys stood frozen.
And then—
A sound.
From behind the tree.
A crunch. Leaves.
Not wind.
Footsteps.
---