The night was mercilessly dark. Aarav's legs ached from running, his chest burned, and the echo of his father's warning—"Don't look back, Aarav!"—still rang in his ears.
The woman in white hadn't followed him… or maybe she had. He didn't dare turn his head. His father was still on that cursed highway, and every step Aarav took away from him felt like betrayal.
But Baba's voice had been firm, urgent, desperate. Run.
So he did.
The endless road stretched before him, broken only by the faint yellow glow of a distant streetlight. The silence pressed in on him, heavy, except for the crunch of his shoes against the cracked asphalt. The night creatures of the forest—the owls, the crickets—had all gone mute.
That silence was worse than the screams.
Aarav stumbled, nearly falling, and pressed his palms to his knees, trying to catch his breath. His throat was raw, and his heart pounded so hard it hurt.
That's when he heard it.
Footsteps.
Not echoes of his own—these were heavier, dragging, uneven. Someone—or something—was behind him.
He froze, cold sweat breaking across his back. His father's voice whispered again in his head: Don't look back.
But the steps grew louder.
"Who's there?" Aarav's voice cracked as he spoke. "I-I know you're there!"
The footsteps stopped. The silence returned, thicker than before.
A shadow moved near the streetlight. Not the woman in white—this figure was hunched, limping, human. A man.
As the stranger stepped closer, Aarav caught details. Torn jacket, muddy boots, unshaven face. His eyes were sunken, dark circles etched beneath them, but there was something in them—not the hollow emptiness of an Echo, but pain.
"You… you're alive," Aarav breathed, almost relieved.
The man let out a hoarse laugh, more like a cough. "Alive? That depends on what you call living, boy."
He stopped a few steps away, and Aarav tensed, unsure whether to trust him.
"Don't worry," the stranger rasped. "I'm not one of them." His head tilted slightly, as if listening to something in the distance. "Though they're never far. Not here. Not on this road."
Aarav swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
The man gave a weary smile. "Name's Dev. Once a driver. Like your father, I think."
"You saw him?" Aarav's hope flared, desperate.
Dev shook his head. "Not tonight. But I know his kind. Truckers, always pushing through the cursed stretch… until they can't." He looked at Aarav's trembling hands, his dirt-streaked face. "She's after you, isn't she?"
The words sent ice through Aarav's veins. "The… the woman in white. You know her?"
Dev's eyes darkened. He nodded slowly. "We all know her. Those of us who survived long enough. She chooses. Not every traveler, not every wanderer. Just some. Once she marks you, boy…" He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "…you're hers until the end."
Aarav staggered back, his breathing shallow. "No… no, she can't. My father—he'll protect me."
Dev's smile twisted bitterly. "That's what I thought too. I had a brother once. He said the same thing. But promises don't stop her. She doesn't want just your fear—she wants your soul."
The boy's legs trembled, and for a moment he wished the road would simply swallow him whole. But Dev's gaze sharpened, almost fatherly despite the harshness in his tone.
"You want to survive?" Dev asked.
Aarav's head snapped up. "Yes."
"Then stop hoping someone else will save you. Start learning what this road really is."
Aarav's fists clenched. He didn't know whether to scream, cry, or collapse. His father was still out there. His world had turned into a nightmare. And now this stranger was telling him that survival depended on himself.
Dev turned, gesturing for Aarav to follow. "Come. The others will explain more. If we keep standing here, we'll be dead before dawn."
Aarav hesitated. His instincts screamed to run the other way, back to his father, but Dev's words were steady, firm—the voice of someone who had walked this darkness far longer than him.
"The others?" Aarav asked cautiously, forcing his feet to move.
Dev's lips curled in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Survivors. Like me. You'll see."
They walked into the shadow beyond the streetlight, where the road narrowed into an old, cracked lane lined by twisted trees. The air grew colder, heavy with the stench of damp earth and something faintly metallic—blood.
Aarav's stomach turned, but he forced himself onward.
Somewhere in the darkness, an owl shrieked—a sound that should have been ordinary, yet tonight it sounded like a warning.
Aarav gripped the straps of his torn backpack tighter, whispering under his breath. "Hold on, Baba. I'll come back for you. I promise."
The night swallowed his words.
And the shadows seemed to laugh.