Neither of them spoke.
The figure stood below, barely visible through the mist. Still pointing.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
Rehan stepped back. "What—what is that?"
Ayaan didn't answer.
Because the moment he blinked—just once—the figure was gone.
"WHERE DID IT GO?" Rehan shouted, turning in every direction.
"I don't know. I don't—"
Thump.
A sound behind them.
They turned.
Nothing.
Another thump. Closer. Like footsteps landing heavy in the dirt. But no one there.
Rehan whispered, "Ithinkit's playing with us."
Ayaan tightened the straps on his backpack. "Then let's stop playing."
He pulled out the flashlight. Flicked it on.
Dead.
No light. The batteries had been new that morning.
He tossed it aside.
---
They made their way down the other side of the hill, hoping—praying—to find anything familiar.
But the forest shifted.
The air turned colder. The ground changed—from soil to soft moss, then to stone. Flat stone. Like tiles. Manmade.
They were no longer in a forest.
They were in ruins.
Old, broken pillars jutted from the earth. Carvings lined the rocks, symbols neither of them could read.
"What… isthisplace?" Rehan whispered.
Ayaan stopped beside one of the stones. There was something etched into it.
Not symbols.
Words.
In Urdu.
Scratched unevenly, like by a hand that shook while writing.
"Don't listen to the voice. It's not him."
Rehan paled. "What voice?"
And then—
They heard it.
Sameer.
Faint. Far.
Calling.
"Ayaan… Rehan… please… help me…"
A cry. Raw. Real.
Rehan broke into a run. "SAMEER?!"
Ayaan shouted, "STOP!"
But it was too late. Rehan vanished between two crumbling walls.
"Rehan!" Ayaan chased after him, heart pounding.
He turned the corner—
Silence.
No Rehan. No voice. No sound.
He was alone.
---
Panic rose in his throat.
"REHAN!"
His voice echoed. But nothing replied.
The mist closed in tighter now. Cold wrapped around his skin like a second layer.
Then—a whisper.
Right behind his ear.
He spun.
No one.
And then he saw it.
Another swing.
Not hanging from a tree.
Hanging from nothing.
Just suspended midair. Ropes stretched into the mist.
And tied to the swing—
A red thread.
Fresh.
New.
But this time, there was something else carved into the wood:
"The third has entered."
His breath caught.
Third?
Who was the second?
Where was Rehan?
And then came the worst realization of all.
He wasn't alone anymore.
Something stood just behind him.
Breathing.
Waiting.