The storm had passed by morning, but the air outside was still heavy, like the sky was holding its breath.
Ravi and Amara stepped out of the house together. The grass was wet, and mud stuck to their shoes. The black cat followed them, quiet and watchful.
"Are you ready?" Ravi asked.
"No," Amara admitted, "but we have to do this."
They walked across the yard, past the leaning trees, until they saw it—the old stone well. It stood half-hidden by tall weeds. The stones were black with moss. The air around it felt colder.
Ravi pulled the weeds aside. "It looks older than the house," he said.
Amara stepped closer. She could smell damp earth and something faintly sweet—jasmine.
The cat hissed, fur standing up.
They both looked over the edge.
Darkness. So deep that even the morning light could not touch the bottom.
Ravi tied a rope to a nearby tree. "I'm going down," he said.
Amara's eyes widened. "No, it's too dangerous. We don't know what's inside."
He looked at her, serious. "You trust me, don't you?"
She hesitated only a second. "Yes… I do."
He started down, boots pressing against the slick stones. The rope creaked with his weight.
Amara knelt by the well, holding the rope tight. "Be careful," she whispered.
Halfway down, Ravi's voice echoed up. "There's something… here. A box. And… oh God—"
The rope jerked suddenly.
"Ravi?!" Amara's voice shook.
"I'm okay!" he called. "Just… something moved down here."
A smell rose from the darkness—wet soil, rot, and old flowers. Then came a sound.
Splash… splash…
Something was moving in the water far below.
Ravi grunted, pulling at something heavy. "I've got it!" His voice was strained. "Pull!"
Amara braced herself and helped haul it up. Slowly, the box came into view—wooden, swollen from water, covered in green slime.
When it reached the top, they dropped it on the grass. The lock was rusted.
Ravi smashed the lock with a stone. The lid creaked open.
Inside were old, yellowed letters wrapped in cloth… and a ring. A man's ring, silver, with the initials R.K.
Amara's hand shook. "Raghav Kumar," she whispered. "It must be his."
There was also a folded paper, brittle and torn. She opened it carefully.
"My dearest Asha," it read, "I waited for you. The storm came, but I stayed. They would not let me see you. If I cannot have this life with you, I will wait in the next. Yours forever, Raghav."
Amara's eyes blurred with tears. "He died waiting for her," she said softly.
Before Ravi could answer, the air turned cold.
From behind them came the sound of soil shifting.
Shhhhhh… thump… thump…
They turned slowly.
In the muddy ground near the well, the earth began to bulge… then break apart.
A pale hand pushed through the mud, fingers clawing the air.
Another hand followed.
The black cat hissed and ran to the house.
Ravi grabbed Amara's arm. "Back away. Now."
But more hands were coming—three, four, then too many to count. They were thin, bone showing through the skin, nails broken and dark with dirt.
One hand grabbed the rope. Another slammed into the box, spilling the letters.
Amara's heart pounded. She clutched the ring tight. "We can't leave these! They're part of the story!"
Ravi pulled her back. "We can't help anyone if we're dead—MOVE!"
They ran toward the house, mud splashing around their feet. Behind them, the sound of tearing earth grew louder.
Thump! Scratch! Wooooshhh!
The wind rose again, swirling around them like a scream.
As they reached the porch, Amara looked back.
Something was pulling itself fully out of the ground—tall, bent, its face covered in mud. But its eyes… its eyes were bright, fixed on her.
She stumbled inside, Ravi slamming the door shut behind them.
They stood in the hall, breathing hard. Ravi's hands were still on her shoulders.
"We have the ring," he said. "Maybe it's the key. Maybe we can bring peace to them."
Amara nodded, her chest still heaving. "Then we have to try. Tonight."
Outside, the wind howled. And from somewhere near the well, a voice carried on it.
"Asha…"