The fog did not lift.
It thickened.
The silhouettes near the fountain did not move, yet Manoj felt as if they were circling him. Watching. Measuring.
Sayantika's grip on his arm tightened painfully.
"Manoj," she whispered, her voice unsteady, "they weren't there before."
He nodded slowly.
Three shapes.
One tall.
Two bent.
And the worst part—
They were not casting shadows.
They *were* the shadows.
From somewhere behind them, a dry scraping sound dragged across the ground.
Manoj didn't turn this time.
He knew.
If he turned too fast, it would be closer.
"Where are Anirban and Sibom?" Sayantika asked, her voice cracking.
As if the garden had been waiting for that question, a faint echo drifted from the trees.
"…here…"
It sounded like Anirban.
But stretched.
Distorted.
Manoj's chest tightened. "That's not him."
The tall silhouette near the fountain tilted its head slowly.
Too slowly.
Like its neck wasn't built for that angle.
Then it lifted one arm.
And pointed.
Not at them.
At the old stone slab in the distance.
The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet.
From far behind them came the creaking of wood.
The underground steps.
Something climbing.
Sayantika shook her head violently. "We need to leave. We need to leave now."
But when Manoj looked toward the iron gate again—
It wasn't there.
The entrance had vanished into a wall of black trees.
The garden had changed shape.
It had rearranged itself.
Dustu suddenly growled from somewhere to their left.
Low.
Defensive.
"Dustu!" Manoj called softly.
The dog emerged slowly from the fog.
Alone.
No Anirban.
No Sibom.
Blood streaked lightly across Dustu's fur—not his own.
Sayantika gasped. "Oh my God…"
Before Manoj could react, Dustu began backing away from them.
Whimpering.
At something behind them.
Manoj forced himself to turn.
The three silhouettes were gone.
But the fountain was not empty.
Water.
Black.
Thick.
Filling it slowly.
Impossible.
It had been dry for years.
The surface of the water trembled.
Then rippled.
As if something beneath it had shifted.
"…five…"
The whisper came again.
Clearer now.
"…but one stayed…"
Manoj felt ice crawl up his spine.
Ranoj.
1976.
One stayed.
Sayantika suddenly staggered.
Manoj caught her just in time.
Her skin was freezing.
"Sayantika!"
Her lips trembled. "It's cold… inside my head…"
Her eyes flicked toward the fountain again.
And she began walking toward it.
"No!" Manoj pulled her back.
She resisted.
Not violently.
But steadily.
Like she was being pulled by invisible strings.
"Let her go," a soft voice said behind him.
Manoj froze.
That voice—
It was Sibom's.
He turned slowly.
Sibom stood near the tree line.
But something was wrong.
He was too still.
Too calm.
His clothes were dirty, but his face was blank.
Empty.
"Sibom," Manoj breathed. "Where were you?"
Sibom didn't answer directly.
Instead he looked at the fountain.
"It's been waiting," he said softly.
Sayantika stopped struggling.
Her eyes focused on Sibom.
"Waiting for what?" she asked faintly.
Sibom smiled slightly.
"For him."
He raised his hand.
And pointed at Manoj.
At that exact second, the black water in the fountain exploded upward.
Not splashing.
Rising.
Forming a tall, shifting column.
Faces appeared inside it.
Distorted.
Mouths open.
Whispering.
Anirban's voice suddenly screamed from within the trees.
"DON'T TRUST HIM!"
The sound cut through the air like glass shattering.
Sibom's head jerked unnaturally toward the sound.
His neck twisted farther than it should have.
Crack.
Sayantika screamed.
Manoj shoved her backward just as the water column collapsed violently outward.
The ground shook.
Dustu barked wildly and lunged toward Sibom.
But Sibom moved too fast.
He stepped backward—
And vanished into the fog.
Not ran.
Not turned.
Vanished.
Anirban burst out from the opposite side of the clearing, breathless and pale.
"It's not him," he gasped. "That's not Sibom."
"What do you mean?" Manoj demanded.
Anirban grabbed his shoulders tightly.
"I saw something wearing his shape."
Silence fell heavy again.
The fountain water slowly drained back down.
Leaving it empty once more.
But the inside walls were now coated in dark streaks.
Like something had been clawing its way up for years.
Dustu suddenly yelped.
Manoj turned.
The stone slab had completely shifted now.
The underground opening was wider.
The wooden steps clearly visible.
Descending into absolute darkness.
Cold air rushed out again.
But this time—
It carried a voice.
Soft.
Weak.
"Help…"
Manoj's breath stopped.
That was Sibom.
Real.
Panicked.
From below.
Sayantika stared at him in horror. "There's two of him."
Anirban shook his head slowly. "No."
He looked at Manoj.
"There's one real."
"And one that stayed."
The trees around them began bending inward again.
The garden narrowing.
Pressing.
The whisper returned.
"…choose…"
Manoj's heart pounded violently.
Above ground—
The shape wearing Sibom's face was somewhere in the fog.
Below ground—
The real voice was calling for help.
"…choose…"
The underground steps creaked again.
Slow.
Deliberate.
As if something beneath had paused halfway up.
Waiting.
Manoj looked at his friends.
Fear in Sayantika's eyes.
Determination in Anirban's.
Dustu trembling but standing firm.
The whisper grew louder.
"…only one comes back…"
The fog swallowed the clearing once more.
And somewhere in the dark—
Two identical voices screamed at the same time.
One from above.
One from below.
Both crying:
"Manoj!"
The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly.
And for the first time that night—
Manoj understood.
The garden didn't just want him.
It wanted him to decide.
And whatever he chose—
Someone would stay forever.
**To be continued…**