The morning sun was weak, barely slicing through the heavy curtains of Hollowridge. A fine mist clung to the windows, distorting the trees outside into long, twisted figures. It felt like the entire world was holding its breath.
Aarohi was already awake, bags packed. She hadn't slept. Not really. Not after last night. Her body was trembling with fear and exhaustion.
Veer entered the room, looking concerned. "I booked us a hotel in town. We'll go there first. Then tomorrow, we can talk to an agent and figure out how to sell this place."
Aarohi nodded quickly. "Let's go now."
He picked up the suitcase. "Come on. I'll warm up the car."
She followed, glancing once at the attic stairs as they passed by. The door was slightly ajar now.
Hadn't she closed it?
The air near the attic was freezing, like always.
The house seemed to groan behind them as they left. As if it knew.
Veer opened the car door for Aarohi. She slid into the passenger seat without looking back.
He started the engine.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Click. Click. Dead.
"I charged the battery last week," he muttered, opening the hood.
Aarohi sat perfectly still. The silence outside was too deep—unnatural. Even the birds weren't singing.
She checked her phone. No signal.
Veer slammed the hood shut. "Battery's completely dead. It's like it's been drained."
"Let's walk," she whispered. "Let's just leave on foot."
They started down the driveway together, the house looming behind them like a watchful beast. Fog rolled across the ground, thick and choking.
But the further they walked, the stranger the world became.
The road stretched longer than it should have. The trees looked unfamiliar, warped. Every step felt like walking through water.
After what felt like fifteen minutes, they looked back.
The house was right behind them.
They hadn't moved at all.
Aarohi gasped. "We didn't go anywhere."
Veer's face went pale. "This… this isn't possible."
He took out his phone. No signal. Aarohi's hands were ice cold.
They tried again. Different direction.
Same result.
Every road, every path—they all circled back.
Hollowridge wouldn't let them leave.
Back inside, the atmosphere had changed. The warmth from the morning had vanished. The house pulsed with something ancient and malicious.
Veer threw his keys against the wall. "This is insane! There has to be an explanation."
Aarohi's voice was soft. "There is. It's Dev."
Veer turned to her, eyes wild. "Are you seriously blaming the ghost again? The house isn't magical. We're probably just lost or confused."
"You saw it yourself," she whispered. "We couldn't leave. The road bent. The forest changed."
Veer ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I just… I don't know."
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed upstairs.
They both froze.
Another thud. Closer. Heavy. Like footsteps.
They followed the sound up to the master bedroom.
The mirror on the wardrobe had shattered—glass everywhere.
And scratched into the wood behind it were the words:
"BLOOD STAYS. BLOOD PAYS."
Veer turned to Aarohi slowly. "This is real…"
She nodded. "I told you."
That night, they stayed in the living room with the lights on, refusing to go back to their bedroom. Veer sat with a fire poker clutched tightly in his hand. Aarohi had the ritual book beside her.
"I've been reading this," she said quietly. "Your great-grandfather didn't just accuse Dev of witchcraft. He performed a ritual. A banishment spell. But something went wrong."
Veer looked over at her. "Wrong how?"
"It didn't just bind Dev's spirit. It bound it to the bloodline. Our family. Anyone who returns here… becomes part of the curse."
She showed him the final page, where the words had once been written in blood.
But now… the words had changed.
They now read:
"Only sacrifice breaks the bond."
"What kind of sacrifice?" Veer asked.
Aarohi hesitated. "A life."
His eyes widened. "No. No. We are not doing any ritual murder."
"I'm not saying we will. But… someone in our family started this. And Dev's spirit believes only blood can end it."
Suddenly, the fire in the fireplace whooshed out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
The door creaked open behind them.
Footsteps—wet and heavy—entered the room.
Aarohi slowly turned her head.
A figure stood just inside the doorway.
Tall. Charred. Skin flaking off in black ribbons. Smoke curled from his empty sockets.
Dev.
His mouth opened in a soundless scream, and the room was filled with a high-pitched screech—metal against bone, a sound that made Aarohi's ears bleed.
Veer grabbed her and ran. They slammed the door and locked it behind them.
But the house laughed. They could hear it.
Laughter in the walls. In the pipes. In their heads.
Later, as they lay huddled together in the guest room, Veer whispered, "We need help. A priest. An exorcist. Something."
Aarohi nodded, barely able to think.
But deep down, she feared what Dev really wanted.
Not banishment.
Revenge.
And revenge never left quietly.