When Ahaan sat up in the grass outside the orphanage, breathing hard.
His heart was racing. His body was cold.
Everything felt... wrong.
The trees looked normal.
The sky looked normal.
But the air felt heavy — like it was full of invisible eyes watching him.
He opened the journal.
No light.
Just one fresh line written in red:
"You are awake… inside the dream."
Ahaan blinked.
"What does that mean?" he whispered.
The journal didn't answer.
But the ground under him suddenly moved.
Just a little.
Like something was crawling under the dirt.
He stood up quickly and looked around.
But there was no one.
The orphanage behind him looked... different now.
Brighter.
Newer.
Almost brand new.
No broken windows.
No blood on the walls.
Just quiet.
Too quiet.
He walked toward it slowly.
His shoes didn't make a sound on the ground.
Not even a crunch of leaves.
That's when he realized…
He wasn't really outside.
He was still inside the orphanage.
But something — something dark — was playing with his mind.
Inside the building, the walls were clean.
Painted white.
Children's laughter echoed from somewhere.
Was he dreaming?
Or was this the past?
Suddenly, a voice whispered in his head — not his voice.
Deeper.
Smoother.
Like oil dripping from a dead tree.
"You stepped into my mouth, Ahaan.
And now you'll chew on your own memories."
The hallway shifted.
The ceiling stretched taller.
The floor pulsed beneath his feet like skin.
Ahaan turned to run — but the hallway behind him had disappeared.
Now there was only a mirror.
He looked into it.
At first, he saw his own face.
But then… it began to change.
His eyes turned black.
His smile twisted too wide.
His reflection began to laugh — a sick, slow laugh.
And then it whispered:
"You're not Ahaan anymore."
Ahaan screamed and punched the mirror.
But it didn't break.
Instead, the mirror rippled like water — and a hand reached out from the glass and grabbed his wrist.
The reflection began to pull him in.
He fought it, yanking his arm back.
Finally, he broke free and fell backward onto the floor.
But the hallway had changed again.
Now it looked like his bedroom at home.
His mother was sitting on the bed.
Smiling at him.
"Maa?" Ahaan asked.
She turned slowly.
But her eyes were white.
Her head tilted too far to the side — like her neck was broken.
And then she said in a voice that was both hers and not hers:
"Why didn't you listen to me, Ahaan?
Why did you open the journal?"
The walls melted.
His bedroom twisted into a dark hallway once more.
But this time… there were pictures on the walls.
All of them were of him — but at different ages, in places he'd never been.
In some, he was standing beside the Sleeper.
In others, he had no face at all.
And in one… he was lying in a hospital bed, eyes open but completely hollow.
A label under it read:
"Prototype A: Failed to resist possession."
Ahaan backed away.
The ground cracked open beneath his feet — and he fell.
Fell through black space.
No sound.
No air.
Just cold.
Suddenly, he landed with a thud.
He was in a room filled with chairs.
Each chair held a child.
Their faces were covered in black cloth.
All silent.
Except one.
A little boy with the same face as Ahaan.
He turned slowly and said:
"Only one of us will survive, you know."
Ahaan shook his head.
"What is this?! Who are you?!"
The boy smiled.
And behind him, the wall lit up with red writing:
"CASE FORTY-TWO: MIND MAZE
Room 3: Identity Collapse In Progress."
Ahaan held his head.
It felt like his thoughts were spinning too fast — like they weren't even his anymore.
Memories flashed:
His school.
His mom.
His dad.
A doctor.
A cold room.
Needles.
Shadows.
"Who am I?" Ahaan whispered.
The boy stood.
And from his chest, he pulled out a glowing orb of black smoke.
He offered it to Ahaan.
"Take it," he said.
"Become what they made you for."
Ahaan didn't move.
But the orb flew toward him anyway — and hit his chest.
He gasped.
A scream exploded inside his mind.
So loud it felt like his skull cracked.
Then everything went black.
When he opened his eyes…
He was back in the woods.
The journal lay on the ground beside him.
It was closed.
And silent.
But a note had appeared on the cover.
One word:
"Soon."
After this.....