"A chain does not break all at once.
It rusts. It frays.
Until the first link chooses freedom,
and finds death waiting instead."
Morning was gray, washed out, as if the sun had lost its will to shine over Bhairavpur. The group stirred inside the haveli, their bodies stiff from the cold stone floor, their faces etched with exhaustion. No one had truly slept.
Diya sat near the window, her fingers wrapped around her silver locket, staring at the skeletal trees beyond. Priya scribbled into her notebook with shaky hands, words tumbling out like she feared forgetting the truth if she stopped.
Kabir, though, paced. His boots scuffed against the dust, each step louder than it needed to be. His restlessness gnawed at the others like a mosquito that refused to be swatted.
"Another day wasted," he muttered. "Another day sitting around waiting for this hellhole to swallow us."
"No one's waiting," Rohit snapped, running a hand through his messy hair. "We're thinking. Planning."
Kabir barked out a laugh, humorless. "Planning what? Which corner to hide in next? How to cry quieter so the monsters don't hear?"
Yashpal rose, his large frame casting a shadow across the room. "You've done nothing but complain since we got here. If you hate being with us so much, then—"
"Then what?" Kabir spun on him, eyes wild. "You'll throw me out? You'd love that, wouldn't you? Less weight to carry, fewer mouths to feed. Don't think I don't see the way you look at me."
The air bristled, thick with the promise of another fight.
But it was Meghna who broke it. Her voice was sharp, brittle. "Stop it. Both of you. The village doesn't need our help to kill us. We're doing its work for it."
Silence fell. Heavy. Shameful.
Saanvi whispered, "She's right."
But Kabir only scoffed and turned away. His eyes darted to Diya, who hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. Something about her stillness made his skin crawl.
"She hasn't said a word," he sneered. "Not a damn word. While the rest of us break apart, she just sits there. Like she knows something we don't."
"Stop," Abhay said sharply, his voice cutting through like a blade. He didn't look up from where he sat sharpening a rusted piece of metal into something resembling a knife, but the warning in his tone was enough.
Kabir's jaw tightened. He wanted to argue, to push, but the weight of Abhay's silence pressed against him like a wall.
Still, the thought festered.
The Village's Teeth
By afternoon, they decided to scavenge again. The orchard was behind them, but Bhairavpur stretched endlessly, as though new streets grew overnight.
They split into pairs—Abhay with Diya, Rohit with Meghna, Yashpal with Saanvi, leaving Kabir and Priya trailing behind.
The air felt wrong. Every lane bent in circles, doors swung open without a touch, shadows clung to the walls too long after their owners passed.
Kabir muttered under his breath, "This place is alive."
Priya, clutching her camera, whispered back, "Then stop feeding it with your anger."
He shot her a glare. She looked away.
When they regrouped near the broken schoolhouse, the others compared scraps of supplies—a torn blanket, a few rusted tools, an unopened tin of something unrecognizable. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Kabir stared at the pile and laughed. Bitter. Harsh. "This? This is survival? We're dead already. We just haven't realized it yet."
Meghna snapped, "Then leave, Kabir. If we're so useless, go find your paradise in the forest."
The words cut deeper than she meant them to. The others froze, waiting for his eruption.
But Kabir only smiled. A strange, hollow smile.
"Maybe I will."
Whispers in the Dark
That night, while the others dozed in uneasy half-sleep, Kabir lay awake, staring at the cracked ceiling. The haveli's silence wasn't empty—it was layered, like a hundred voices whispering just beyond hearing.
He swore he heard his name. Once. Twice. Drawn out, hissed between the wooden beams.
When he sat up, the voices stopped.
But his heart kept racing.
He looked at the others—huddled close, clinging to each other's warmth even in distrust. And for the first time, he felt apart. Not just separate. Unwanted.
His fists clenched.
Maybe Meghna was right. Maybe he would be better off alone.
"In the silence of the forest, solitude is never empty.It watches. It waits.And those who walk away from the fire of menbecome the feast of shadows."