More years passed. The village became completely abandoned. Houses collapsed into rubble, mango trees dried up and died, vines and thorny bushes choked the mouth of the well. No one comes anymore. No one leaves. Only on full-moon nights does moonlight fall on the water in the well—and the water turns black, as though someone poured ink into it.
One night—a special full moon, when the moon itself burned an unnatural blood-red—a deep sound rose from inside the well. It was the rattle of thousands upon thousands of bones clattering together at once. Radharani, who could no longer walk, slowly rose to her feet. Her body was no longer human—skin split open, bones protruding, eyes blazing like red fire. She stood at the edge of the well and stretched out her hand.
The shadows—Manik, Arnab, Riya, Priya, and all the others—rose together from the well. They were no longer shadows. They were real now—cold, dripping wet, skin pale and bloodless, eyes empty hollows. But on their faces were smiles. Very wide smiles.
Radharani spoke—her voice alone this time, no longer blended with others:
"I kept you all together. Now you are with me. No one is alone. Never again."
Then she looked down into the well. It was empty. No water remained. Only darkness.
Radharani smiled. Her laughter echoed all the way to the last crumbling wall of the village. Then she—and the others—began to walk. Out of the village, along the road, toward the city.
The next morning, no one came to the village. But the news began to spread—quietly, fearfully—in certain old neighborhoods of the city, in houses that still had ancient wells. At night, whispers could be heard. Small voices. Many of them. And through them all, an old woman's voice saying:
"Come… we have come… now it's your house's turn."
Radharani and her "children" never died. They simply changed their address. They climbed out of the well. Now they are in your city. In your neighborhood. Perhaps there is an old well near your house.
Tonight, if there is a full moon…
If you hear whispers in your ear…
If your feet begin to move on their own…
Then know this—you are not the final note.
You are just the newest doll.
A red thread tied around your neck.
The game will continue…
Forever.