Aarav woke up screaming.
His body jerked upright, lungs burning as if he had been drowning.
For a moment, he didn't know where he was.
Dark ceiling.
Broken fan.
The smell of dust.
The hostel.
"…It was a dream."
But even as he said it—
His hand trembled.
Slowly…
He looked down.
The mark was still there.
Black.
Burned deep into his skin.
The same twisted symbol from the Seventh Door.
"…So it wasn't a dream."
🌒
Morning didn't feel like morning.
The sunlight barely touched the building, as if even it refused to enter fully.
Aarav hadn't slept again.
Every time he closed his eyes—
He saw the darkness behind the door.
Those shapes.
That voice.
"You came back…"
"…What does that even mean…?" he muttered.
He needed answers.
And there was only one place left to search.
His father's office.
📚
The office was hidden behind the reception area.
The door was locked.
Of course.
Aarav stared at it for a moment.
Then clenched his fist—
And slammed his shoulder into it.
CRACK.
The wood gave way.
The door burst open.
Dust exploded into the air.
Inside—
Time had stopped.
Books covered every wall.
Old files stacked everywhere.
Papers scattered across the desk.
And in the center—
A single chair.
Facing away from him.
Aarav stepped inside slowly.
"…Dad?"
Silence.
He walked toward the desk.
The air felt heavier here.
Colder.
Like this room remembered things the rest of the building tried to forget.
On the desk—
A journal.
Old.
Worn.
Covered in the same symbol.
Aarav's breath caught.
"…You knew."
He opened it.
📖
The pages were filled with frantic handwriting.
Messy.
Desperate.
Like someone losing their mind.
Entry 1:The seventh door has appeared again. It wasn't there before. It never is. It chooses when to exist.
Aarav's heart pounded.
Entry 5:The voices are getting louder. They don't whisper anymore. They speak. They remember me.
His fingers tightened around the page.
Entry 12:I made a mistake. I opened it.
Aarav froze.
"No…"
His eyes raced across the page.
Entry 13:They showed me things. Things that shouldn't exist. People… trapped. Not dead. Not alive.
The same as what Aarav saw.
The same darkness.
Entry 20:It's not a door. It's a mouth.
Aarav's stomach twisted.
Entry 27:It wants something. It wants a connection. A bloodline.
Aarav stopped breathing.
"…Bloodline…?"
His hands began to shake.
He flipped to the last page.
The writing was different.
Slower.
Calmer.
Like acceptance.
Final Entry:Aarav, if you are reading this… then I failed.I couldn't destroy it.I couldn't escape it.
Because…
The words were scratched deeper into the paper.
I am not outside anymore.
Aarav's eyes widened.
"…What?"
The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
The chair in front of him creaked.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
It began to turn.
Aarav stumbled back.
"No… no no no—"
The chair completed its turn.
And someone was sitting there.
A man.
Pale.
Still.
Eyes sunken into darkness.
Aarav's voice broke.
"…Dad…?"
The man smiled.
Too wide.
Too wrong.
"You finally came back."
The same voice.
From the door.
From the darkness.
Aarav's heart shattered.
"That's not possible… you're dead…"
The man tilted his head.
"Dead?"
A soft chuckle escaped his lips.
"No, Aarav…"
His eyes darkened completely.
"I never left."
The room twisted.
The walls pulsed.
The shadows stretched unnaturally.
And behind his father—
Something moved.
Something massive.
Hidden.
Watching.
Aarav staggered back toward the door.
"You're not him… YOU'RE NOT HIM!"
The thing wearing his father's face stood up slowly.
"You opened it…"
Step.
"Just like I did…"
Step.
"And now…"
It stopped inches away from Aarav.
Its smile widened.
Too wide for a human face.
"We are connected."
The symbol on Aarav's hand burned.
He screamed.
And in that moment—
He saw it.
Not with his eyes.
But inside his mind.
A memory.
His father.
Standing in front of the Seventh Door.
Opening it.
And something—
Coming out.
Not going in.
Coming.
Out.
Aarav snapped back to reality.
Gasping.
Shaking.
The office was empty.
No chair.
No man.
No father.
Only silence.
And the journal—
Now open to a new page.
Words slowly appeared.
As if being written by an invisible hand.
"It's your turn now."
Aarav dropped the book.
And somewhere in the hostel—
A door creaked open again.
To Be Continued…