The cold hand on Amara's wrist tightened. She gasped and tried to pull away, but its grip was strong—too strong for something that looked so thin.
"Let her go!" Ravi shouted. He swung the lantern toward it.
The light hit the figure's face. Its skin was cracked like dry clay, and its mouth opened far too wide. A sound came out—half wind, half scream.
Woooooaaaaaahhhh!
Amara yanked her arm free. She stumbled back into Ravi's chest. His arms came around her for a second, steady and warm, even as the freezing air swirled around them.
The other hands were coming faster now. Pale fingers scraped the floor, nails breaking, bones showing. The stone walls shook, dust falling from above.
"Up the stairs!" Ravi said, his voice low but firm.
They ran. The black cat darted ahead of them, tail straight like a warning flag. Behind them, the scratching grew into a storm of noise.
Scratch! Claw! Thump!
Halfway up, the lantern flickered. Amara's foot slipped on the wet step, but Ravi caught her, pulling her close.
"I've got you," he said, his breath hot against her ear.For a heartbeat, she forgot the dead things below them.
The wind in the stairwell changed. It wasn't coming from above—it was rising from below, chasing them, carrying whispers.
"Asha… Raghav… Amara…"
Her own name sent shivers down her spine. She didn't dare look back.
They burst through the red door and slammed it shut. Ravi pushed his shoulder against it while Amara dragged over an old cabinet. The wood groaned under the pressure, as if something was testing it from the other side.
Then… silence.
They stood there, both breathing hard.Ravi's hand stayed on her arm, not letting go. Their eyes met in the candlelight.
"You're shaking," he said.
"So are you," she whispered back.
For a long second, they just stood there, the storm outside rattling the shutters. Amara could hear her own heartbeat—fast, but not only from fear.
The black cat sat by the cabinet, staring at the door as if guarding it. Its yellow eyes glowed.
Amara held up the page she had grabbed downstairs. "Only love can seal the earth again," she read aloud. "What does that mean?"
Ravi frowned. "Maybe Asha and Raghav's love was broken. Maybe that's why those things are here. If their story ends in peace, the dead will rest."
Amara touched the locket in her pocket. "Then we have to find where Raghav is. Or what happened to him."
Before Ravi could answer, the wind surged again—not outside, but inside the hallway. Candles blew out one by one.
Ffffffff…
The smell of jasmine filled the air.
From the far end of the corridor, a figure appeared. It was Asha, her sari moving as if underwater.
Her eyes were sad. "The well," she said again, her voice softer this time. "Hurry… before they rise again."
Then she was gone.
Amara turned to Ravi. "Tomorrow morning. We go to the well."
He nodded. "And we go together."
She tried to smile, but her heart was heavy. Whatever was at that well, it was the center of all this. And the things under the earth—they weren't gone. They were waiting.
Outside, the storm hit the house again, making the windows shudder. Somewhere deep below, she thought she heard it:
Scratch… scratch… scratch…
And she knew—they didn't have much time.