Sameer stopped talking after that last line.
Not because he was done — but because something else was starting.
The silence around them had changed.
Before, it was heavy.
Now, it was… alert.
Like a stage had been set and the audience was holding its breath.
Ayaan turned toward the forest's edge.
Something there was watching.
Not a figure.
Not a shape.
But a knowing.
He didn't need to speak it out loud — Rehan already knew.
"We shouldn't stay here."
Sameer stood slowly. "Where do we go?"
Ayaan glanced around.
"There's a reason this place hasn't spat us out yet. It's showing us what it wants. It wants us to follow."
"And if we don't?"
Rehan looked at the coffin — the word CONFESS still carved deep in its lid.
"Then maybe it tells our story without us."
---
Back in the city…
Naira sat in Sameer's room, the old journal open in her lap.
The air was stale. Dry. Heavy.
Each page she flipped felt older than it should have.
The kind of old that lives in places, not in time.
Her fingers trembled when she reached the torn piece tucked inside the back cover.
It was a map.
Hand-sketched. Barely legible.
But the strange part wasn't what was drawn…
It was what was circled.
A second location.
Different from the border.
Farther.
And below it, a line scribbled hastily:
"The seal was not broken — it was borrowed."
Naira's lips moved, whispering the words to herself.
And as she said them aloud — the light flickered.
And from somewhere inside the apartment —
a knock.
Not at the front door.
Inside.
She stood slowly.
The knock came again.
Fainter this time.
Like it was… retreating.
---
Back in the forest…
They moved carefully.
Sameer led this time — not because he wanted to, but because the path seemed to open for him.
The trees shifted subtly, parting just enough to let him pass.
As if the forest knew he remembered more now… and was letting him in.
They followed a narrow path between crooked roots and shallow streams.
The light was even thinner now — not dark, but numb.
Like the forest wasn't blocking the sun.
It had just forgotten light existed.
Rehan stopped.
"There," he whispered.
In the clearing ahead stood a stone well.
Old. Dry.
Covered in moss.
And on the outer rim —
the same symbol.
Burned in.
Deep.
Sameer's face went pale.
"I drew this."
"What do you mean?" Ayaan asked.
"I used to draw it in school. I didn't know what it was. It just… came to me."
Rehan stepped forward. "That's what the journal was for. Not just stories. Not just legends. It was pulling memories out of people who weren't supposed to have them."
Ayaan stared at the well. "And what's inside?"
None of them moved.
Then Sameer whispered, "Something that knows us better than we know each other."
---
Back in the apartment…
Naira followed the sound.
Down the hall.
Past the kitchen.
It stopped at the closet.
Not Sameer's.
His mother's.
She hadn't opened it last time.
Her hand hovered over the handle.
A pause.
Then — she pulled it open.
And inside, taped to the inner door panel, was a photo.
It was Sameer.
Not smiling.
Staring.
Wearing the exact clothes he wore the day they crossed the border.
Behind him — the white line.
And above it — something faintly scribbled in pencil.
A date.
Dated one week before the trip even happened.
---
Back in the forest…
The well groaned.
Not deep.
Not far.
Near.
Like something wasn't trying to crawl up —
It was already there.
Sameer stepped back.
Rehan held out an arm to stop him.
But it was Ayaan who stepped closer, hand reaching for the rim.
When his fingers touched the moss —
he didn't feel stone.
He felt skin.
Cold.
Thin.
Human.
He pulled his hand back — but it was too late.
The moss peeled away like scabs, and something was carved beneath.
A word.
Not in English.
Not in any known language.
But he understood it.
Sameer read it too — out loud, without meaning to.
And the well began to shake.