The broken lane Dev led Aarav down twisted away from the highway, swallowed by trees that leaned in as though listening. The forest smelled of damp moss and rotting leaves, but beneath that was something sharper, metallic—the same faint trace of blood Aarav had noticed before.
Every crack of twigs underfoot made him jump. His mind kept replaying the image of the woman in white, her hollow stare, her outstretched hand. He could almost hear her voice still whispering: Come to me.
Dev's pace was steady, almost casual. "Don't fall behind, boy. Shadows love stragglers."
That made Aarav walk faster.
After what felt like forever, the trees parted into a clearing. A fire flickered in the center, ringed by broken stones. Shapes huddled around it—people. Real, living people.
Aarav blinked, stunned. He had half-believed Dev had been leading him to his death, but here… here were survivors.
A woman looked up first. Her face was gaunt, hair tied in a messy bun streaked with gray. Her sharp eyes scanned Aarav like knives.
"Another one," she muttered.
"Picked him off the road," Dev said simply. "Marked."
The woman's lips pressed tight. "Of course. Always the young ones."
Two other men sat nearby—one older, with a thick beard, the other younger, maybe in his twenties. Both looked exhausted, clothes torn, eyes hollow from sleepless nights.
Aarav's throat tightened. "Wh-who are you people?"
The older man gave a humorless laugh. "Victims. That's all we are." He leaned forward into the firelight. "My name's Ratan. Been trapped here… I don't even know how long. Days, weeks, maybe months. Time doesn't move right on this road."
The younger man raised a hand weakly. "Imran." His voice cracked, dry as paper.
The sharp-eyed woman finally spoke, her voice clipped. "Meera."
The name hung in the air. Something about the way she said it felt final, like she had abandoned any softness long ago.
Dev sat down on a log, gesturing for Aarav to do the same. "They've all seen her. They all know the rules."
"Rules?" Aarav asked, his voice trembling.
Meera's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Rules. Break them, and you don't last the night."
Aarav swallowed hard. "What rules?"
Ratan leaned forward, holding up a trembling finger. "First rule: Never look back when you hear footsteps. It's always them. Always."
Aarav shivered. He remembered the sound behind him, the steps that had chased him.
Meera continued. "Second rule: Never accept what she offers. No matter what you see, no matter what you feel—it isn't real. It's her trick to bind you."
Aarav's stomach twisted. He remembered the way the woman in white had stretched out her hand, her lips whispering his name like a lullaby.
Imran's voice was hoarse as he added, "Third rule: Stay together. Shadows feed on loneliness. If you walk alone for too long, they take your shape, and then… then no one can tell which one is real."
A chill raced through Aarav. He remembered Dev's warning about stragglers.
"Are there more?" he asked, his voice small.
Dev nodded grimly. "Plenty more. But these three will keep you alive tonight."
The fire cracked, sending sparks into the night sky. For a moment, the clearing felt safe—almost normal. But then Aarav noticed the way everyone kept glancing at the tree line, the way their shoulders tensed at every snap of a branch.
Fear lived here. It was stitched into their bones.
"Why her?" Aarav asked quietly. "Why me?"
The camp fell silent. No one wanted to answer.
Finally, Meera spoke, her tone sharp. "Because she chooses. And once she chooses, she doesn't stop." Her eyes softened just slightly as they rested on Aarav. "You're unlucky, boy. But maybe… maybe you're different."
Aarav frowned. "Different how?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, Dev pulled something from his pocket—a crude charm made of red thread and a shard of glass. He tossed it to Aarav. "Keep that. Won't stop her, but it'll slow her whispers. Long enough to think straight."
Aarav clutched it tightly, the sharp edge digging into his palm. For the first time since leaving his father, he felt a flicker of control.
The night deepened, the forest pressing closer. Somewhere in the distance, a woman's laugh echoed—soft, sweet, and wrong.
The survivors didn't move. They sat in tense silence, staring into the flames as though the fire alone kept them tethered to the world.
Aarav did the same. His heart still ached for his father, guilt gnawed at him, but he forced himself to breathe, to hold on.
If these people had survived this long, maybe—just maybe—he could too.
But one thought wouldn't leave his mind.
She knows my name.