The next morning, the storm clouds were gone, but the air still felt heavy. The smell of wet earth and jasmine hung in the breeze.
Ravi and Amara stood in the garden, looking toward the back of the estate.
"The well should be somewhere behind the house," Ravi said, pointing toward a row of overgrown bushes and tall grass.
Amara nodded. "Let's go before the weather changes again."
They walked together through the thick grass. The garden was wild, almost like no one had touched it for years. Broken statues leaned to one side, and vines twisted up old stone walls.
The silence was deep, broken only by the crunch of their footsteps.
After a few minutes, they found it—the old well. Its stone walls were cracked, and moss covered the edges. The wooden cover was half-broken.
Amara stepped closer. She felt a sudden cold wind rush from inside the well, even though the air outside was still.
Whooooshhh…
She looked at Ravi. "Did you feel that?"
"Yes," he said. "It's like the well is… breathing."
They knelt beside it. Ravi peered into the darkness. The water below was not still—it moved in small ripples, as if something had disturbed it.
Amara noticed something tied to the side of the well with a thin, rusted chain. She brushed away the moss and dirt and saw it was a small tin box.
"Ravi, look!" she whispered.
They pulled it free. The lock on it was old and weak, and Ravi broke it with a small rock. Inside, wrapped in a piece of cloth, was a letter and a silver locket.
Amara's hands trembled as she unfolded the letter. The paper was yellow and fragile, but the writing was still clear.
"My dearest Asha,
I waited for you in the storm. I thought you would come. They say you were taken away. I will leave this with our well, where we first met. If you find this, know that I never stopped loving you. – Raghav."
Amara felt her chest tighten. "This is his last message to her," she said softly. She opened the locket. Inside was a tiny, faded picture of Asha and Raghav together.
Ravi looked at her. "Do you think this is what she wanted us to find?"
Before Amara could answer, the wind picked up sharply. Leaves swirled around them, and the sound of footsteps echoed in the grass behind them.
Step… Step… Step…
They turned quickly, but no one was there. Then, from the direction of the house, they heard a door slam.
Bang!
The wind carried a voice—soft but urgent.
"Bring it back…"
Amara clutched the locket. "She wants it in the house," she whispered.
Ravi nodded. "Then we take it inside. But something tells me we're not alone anymore."
As they walked back, the air around them felt different—thicker, almost watching. Every shadow seemed to move. The old mansion loomed ahead, its windows like dark eyes waiting for them.
Inside, the house was darker than before, even though it was still morning. The wind moved through the halls, but now it sounded like whispers.
Wooooshhh… come… come…
Amara and Ravi stood in the main hall. "Where do we put it?" Ravi asked.
Amara looked up toward the grand staircase. "I think she wants it in her room."
They climbed the stairs slowly. Each step creaked louder than it should.
Creeeak… Creeeak…
When they reached the room with the mirror and the scarf, the smell of jasmine was strong again. Amara placed the locket and letter gently on the table.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the candle in the room flickered on its own. In the mirror, a faint figure appeared—Asha. She looked at them, her eyes shining with tears.
Her lips moved, and this time they could hear her clearly:
"Thank you… but it's not over."
Before they could ask what she meant, her figure faded, and the mirror went black—as if covered in shadow.
Ravi looked at Amara. "If it's not over… what's next?"
Amara swallowed. "I think someone doesn't want her story to end. And that means… we're in danger."
Somewhere deep in the house, a man's laugh echoed.
Ha… Ha… Ha…
And the candles went out.