The echoes poured into the cabin like a flood of shadows. Their faces shifted between human and inhuman, features melting into grotesque forms that twisted Aarav's stomach. The air grew heavy with a stench of wet earth and decay.
His father swung wildly, fists connecting with the nearest echo. The figure dispersed like smoke at the impact, only to reform a second later, shrieking silently.
"They don't break!" Aarav cried.
"They're not meant to!" his father shouted back. His voice was hoarse, his injured shoulder slowing his movements, but still he fought with raw, desperate strength.
One of the childlike echoes lunged at Aarav, its eyeless face inches from his. Aarav screamed and thrust the iron locket forward.
The effect was instant. The echo recoiled, its body rippling as if burned. It let out a soundless wail and disintegrated into dust.
Aarav's eyes widened. The locket worked.
He gripped it tighter, swinging it wildly at another echo crawling across the dashboard. The shadow hissed and shrank back, its form unraveling into smoke.
But there were too many.
Dozens filled the truck now, crawling over the seats, clinging to the windows, pressing their twisted faces against Aarav's skin. Cold fingers brushed his arm, his neck, his cheek, each touch like ice sinking into his veins.
Panic threatened to choke him. He lashed out with the locket, each strike scattering one or two, but for every echo that dissolved, three more replaced it.
His father's movements slowed, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face. Blood soaked through his shirt from the wound in his shoulder.
"Aarav!" he gasped. "Listen to me—she won't stop. Not until she takes you."
Aarav's stomach twisted. "Why me?!"
His father's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something almost like guilt. "Because of me."
The words struck Aarav harder than the screams around them. His breath caught. "What did you do?"
Before his father could answer, the cabin doors slammed shut with a force that shook the truck.
The echoes froze.
Silence fell.
A slow creak followed, like the groaning of ancient wood. The temperature dropped again, their breath fogging in the darkness.
And then, the woman appeared.
She materialized in the driver's seat as though she had always been there, her pale form sitting unnaturally still. Her face turned slowly toward Aarav, strands of wet hair sticking to her gray skin.
The echoes bowed their heads.
Aarav's heart stopped.
Her smile was different now. Not mocking. Not cruel. Almost… gentle.
"My child," she whispered, her voice like silk soaked in poison. "You opened the way. You are mine."
Aarav's body trembled. The compulsion to reach out, to touch her, to obey, was overwhelming. His hand twitched toward her without his permission.
His father grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard enough to hurt. "Don't. Look at me, Aarav. Don't look at her."
But Aarav couldn't tear his gaze away. Her hollow eyes pulled at him like a whirlpool, dragging him deeper and deeper into their darkness. Images swirled in his mind—visions of fire, screaming faces, a field of graves marked by names he didn't know.
And always, her voice: Mine. Mine. Mine.
The iron locket burned in his hand, glowing faintly. The heat jolted him back for a moment, breaking the trance. He gasped, clutching it tighter.
The woman's smile faltered. Her gaze flicked to the locket, and for the first time, her expression twisted in something that looked like hatred.
His father seized the moment. With a roar, he shoved Aarav toward the back of the cabin. "Run!"
Aarav's heart pounded. "I can't leave you!"
"You have to!" His father's eyes burned with desperation. "She wants you, not me. If you stay, we both die."
Before Aarav could argue, the woman moved.
One moment she was sitting still, the next her face was inches from his father's, her mouth splitting into a grin far too wide for a human. Her hands lashed out, wrapping around his father's throat once again.
Aarav screamed, raising the locket, but an echo grabbed his arm, pulling it down. Another clawed at his legs, dragging him toward the open cargo hold.
"Baba!" Aarav shrieked, kicking and thrashing.
His father's face turned red as he struggled against her grip, veins bulging in his neck. With what little breath he had left, he choked out one word:
"Run!"
Aarav's chest heaved, tears streaming down his face. He swung the locket wildly, scattering the echoes enough to break free. His body moved before his mind could decide, scrambling toward the back door of the truck.
The night air hit him like a wall of ice as he leapt from the cargo hold, tumbling onto the black asphalt. Pain shot up his arm as he landed hard, but adrenaline pushed him back to his feet.
He turned back.
Through the cracked windshield, he saw his father's face contorted in pain, the woman's pale hands tightening around his throat. The incense lay crushed on the floor, its ember long dead.
The echoes swirled around them like vultures, their hollow eyes fixed on Aarav.
He wanted to run back. To fight. To save him.
But his father's final look—the mixture of command and desperation—rooted him to the ground.
Aarav's chest heaved, his heart breaking. His hand clenched the glowing locket until it seared his skin.
Then he turned and ran.
The woman's laughter followed him, echoing across the endless highway, promising one thing.
This is only the beginning.