The Gilded Secret: Episode One — The Attic of Echoes
The humid monsoon air hung heavy over the balcony of 4B, Shanti Niwas. Zara, the elder sister, sat hunched over her laptop. The blue light reflected off her glasses, highlighting the dark circles she'd been trying to hide for weeks. At twenty-four, she was the "responsible one," a freelance graphic designer chasing deadlines in dollars to pay the mounting bills.
"You're doing that thing again," a voice chirped from the doorway.
Zara didn't look up. "What thing, Meher?"
"The 'I-carry-the-world-on-my-shoulders' frown. It's bad for your skin." Meher, barely nineteen, bounced into the room. She was draped in a vibrant silk dupatta she'd scavenged from a local market, her eyes bright with the restless energy of someone who hadn't yet been told 'no' by the world.
"Bills don't pay themselves with skincare routines," Zara sighed, finally closing her laptop. "Did you finish the sketches for the client?"
Meher waved a hand dismissively. "I found something better. Something... old."
Meher pulled a heavy, rusted iron key from her pocket. It was cold to the touch and shaped like a weeping willow. Zara's breath hitched. She recognized it instantly—it belonged to the heavy wooden trunk their father had forbidden them from opening before he passed away two years ago.
The Unlocking
The sisters moved to the cramped storage loft. The trunk sat under a layer of gray dust. With a heavy clunk, the lock gave way.
Inside, there were no gold coins or stacks of cash. Instead, there were bundles of letters tied with black ribbon and a strange, glowing piece of charcoal wrapped in velvet. As Meher touched the charcoal, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"Zara... look at my hand," Meher whispered.
Faint, glowing lines—like a map—were beginning to trace themselves across Meher's palm, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
The Cliffhanger
"It's a map to the Old City," Zara whispered, her heart hammering. "But Dad told us the Old City was destroyed in the Great Fire fifty years ago."
Just then, a heavy knock echoed through the front door. Not a friendly knock, but a rhythmic, metallic thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sisters froze. No one knew they were home. And more importantly, no one was supposed to know the key had been turned.
"Hide it," Zara commanded, her voice trembling. "Meher, hide the stone!"
But as the door kicked open downstairs, the map on Meher's hand didn't fade. It began to glow brighter, pointing directly toward the window.