The knock never came.
It was the silence that made it worse.
Raghav stood inches from the door, the knife steady in his grip, his eyes fixed on the worn wooden surface as if he could see through it. The faint creak they had heard moments ago still lingered in his mind, not loud enough to confirm anything, but not subtle enough to ignore.
Behind him, Kabir didn't speak.
Even Aarohi's stillness seemed heavier now, her quiet presence stretching into the space between them, reminding them what was at stake.
Another sound followed.
Not a knock.
A shift.
Weight against wood.
Raghav's fingers tightened slightly around the knife. "If someone's there," he said, his voice low but firm, "you speak first."
Nothing answered.
The silence held.
Then-
a faint scrape, as if something, or someone adjusted their footing just beyond the door.
Raghav didn't wait anymore.
He pulled the door open in one sharp motion.
The knife came up instantly and stopped.
The man outside froze just as abruptly, for a second, neither of them moved.
He wasn't what Raghav expected.
Not one of the villagers with hollow eyes and mechanical stillness.
This man looked… tired.
Older, his frame lean but not weak, clothes worn down with use rather than neglect. His breathing was uneven, like he had been moving quickly but didn't want it to show. His eyes, however, were the first thing Raghav noticed.
They weren't empty. They were alert.
Too alert.
The man's gaze flicked briefly to the knife, then back to Raghav's face, measuring, calculating in the same way Raghav was doing to him.
"You're not like them… are you?" the man asked quietly.
The question landed heavier than expected.
Raghav didn't lower the knife.
"That depends," he replied, his tone unchanged. "Who are you?"
The man didn't answer immediately. His eyes shifted past Raghav, just for a moment, catching the faint outline of Aarohi on the bed, then flicking toward Kabir standing behind.
Something in his expression changed.
Not relief.
Recognition.
"I heard voices," he said after a pause.
"Thought I was imagining it."
Kabir stepped forward slightly, careful, his movements slow enough not to escalate anything further. "You've been hiding?" he asked.
The man let out a breath that almost turned into a dry laugh but didn't fully reach it. "Hiding would've been better," he said. "I was locked."
That made Raghav's grip tighten again.
"Locked where?"
"Village holding cell," the man replied, his voice flattening slightly now, as if the memory itself had edges. "For weeks."
Kabir frowned. "For what?"
This time the man hesitated.
Not because he didn't have an answer.
Because he was deciding whether to give it.
His gaze shifted again, briefly toward the empty street behind him. Even without turning, Raghav could sense it, the same unnatural stillness outside, the same presence that didn't move unless it needed to.
"They said I was causing trouble," the man said finally. "Asking questions. Not following along."
Kabir and Raghav exchanged a brief look.
That sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
The man's jaw tightened slightly, something darker surfacing beneath his controlled tone. "Then one day," he continued, "they just stopped talking."
The words slowed.
"They looked at me… but not really. Like I wasn't there anymore."
A faint pause.
"I waited for someone to come back. No one did."
The room felt smaller again.
Raghav studied him more carefully now, the pieces aligning just enough to shift the situation from threat to possibility, but not safety.
Not yet.
"How did you get out?" he asked.
The man held his gaze.
"They forgot I existed."
The answer didn't sound like relief.
It sounded like something worse.
Kabir exhaled slowly, processing it, then stepped forward another inch, just enough to place himself between Raghav and the man without making it obvious. "What's your name?" he asked.
A brief pause.
Then:
"Harsh."
Not hesitant. Not proud.
Just stated.
Raghav didn't lower the knife.
But he didn't raise it either.
"Then start talking, Harsh," he said quietly. "Because whatever is happening out there…"
His eyes flicked once toward the empty street.
"...we're already in the middle of it." and for the first time since the door had opened.
The man stepped inside.
Harsh didn't sit.
Even after stepping inside, he remained near the door, his back angled just enough to keep both the room and the outside within his awareness. His eyes moved constantly, not restless, but cautious, as if still expecting something to change the moment he stopped paying attention.
"You've seen them," Kabir said, keeping his voice low.
Harsh gave a slight nod. "Seen enough."
Raghav finally lowered the knife, but didn't put it away. It rested loosely in his hand, ready, his posture still guarded.
"They're not attacking," he said. "They just… exist."
"Not just that," Kabir added. "They're the same. Movements, timing, even the way they look at things."
Harsh's expression tightened faintly. "Because they're not looking," he said. "Not really."
A brief silence settled, heavier than before.
Kabir glanced toward Aarohi for a moment, then back at Harsh. "We think it's connected to something in the forest."
Harsh didn't react immediately.
But his jaw shifted.
"You went inside," he said, not a question.
Raghav answered this time. "Not deep. Enough."
"Enough to get noticed," Harsh muttered under his breath.
That word lingered.
Not attacked. Not chased. Not harmed.
Noticed.
Kabir picked up on it instantly. "You've seen something like this before?" Harsh shook his head. "Not like this." His gaze drifted briefly toward the door again. "But I've lived here long enough to know the forest doesn't do things without reason."
Raghav's grip on the knife tightened again, just slightly. "Then we need to understand that reason."
"You think walking back in will give you that?" Harsh asked, a hint of disbelief slipping through.
Kabir answered before Raghav could. "It's the only place that makes sense."
Another pause.
Harsh looked at him for a moment longer, then exhaled quietly, the resistance in his posture easing wasn't gone, but shifting. "You're either desperate," he said, "or you've already decided."
"Both," Raghav replied.
That seemed to settle something.
Harsh gave a small nod, more to himself than to them. "Fine," he said. "Then if you're going back, you don't go empty-handed."
Kabir's attention sharpened slightly. "Can you help with that?"
A faint, almost humorless curve touched Harsh's lips. "I've spent half my life shaping metal," he said. "Might as well make it useful now."
Raghav studied him for another second, then gave a short nod. "What do you need?"
"Time…" Harsh replied first. "...and material. Not much, but enough."
Kabir was already thinking ahead.
"There's scrap near the outer sheds," he said. "Old tools, broken parts-"
"I know," Harsh cut in. "I made most of them."
The room fell quiet for a second at that.
Then Kabir nodded. "I'll go."
Raghav's head turned sharply. "Alone?"
Kabir hesitated, but only for a moment. "I won't go far."
Before Raghav could argue further, Harsh spoke. "He's right," he said. "Too many of us moving draws attention."
That didn't fully convince Raghav.
But it was enough.
"Be quick," he said.
Kabir gave a small nod and stepped out, the shift from dim interior to pale daylight feeling sharper than before. The village stretched ahead, quiet in the same unnatural way, figures scattered across the paths like they had been placed there rather than moved.
He walked slowly.
Not because he was afraid, only because something about the place demanded it.
A man stood near the water pump, his posture rigid, hands resting against the handle without moving it. A woman passed behind him, her steps even, identical, her gaze fixed forward without a flicker.
Kabir slowed further.
Too synchronized and precise.
His eyes moved across them, searching for something, anything that didn't fit and then-
one of them stopped abruptly.
A man near the far end of the path turned his head.
Not smoothly.
Too sharply.
His eyes locked onto Kabir.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then his lips moved.
Slowly.
"…don't…"
The voice didn't match.
It dragged.
Like it had to force its way out. "…go… back…"
The expression didn't change and its eyes stayed empty, but the words felt real.
Kabir's breath caught slightly and just as suddenly-
The man turned away, his movement resumed like nothing had happened or never happened.
Kabir stood there for a second longer.
Then turned and walked back faster than before.
Kabir didn't slow down until the door was back in sight.
The stillness behind him felt heavier now, not empty nor quiet, but aware in a way that made his shoulders tighten without him realizing it. The moment he stepped inside, the air shifted again, familiar but no less tense.
Raghav looked up instantly. "That was quick."
Kabir closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the wood for a second longer than necessary before he turned. "Something's wrong," he said, his voice lower than before.
Harsh didn't react outwardly, but his attention sharpened.
Raghav frowned slightly. "That's not new."
Kabir shook his head. "No… different."
He stepped further in, the words forming slowly as if he was still piecing them together. "They're not just… empty. Something's controlling them, but not fully."
Raghav's expression hardened.
"Explain."
Kabir hesitated for a fraction of a second. "One of them spoke to me."
That landed.
Harsh straightened slightly near the door. "Spoke?" he repeated.
Kabir nodded. "Not like before. It was… wrong. Delayed. Like it had to push through something."
Raghav's grip tightened faintly around the knife again. "What did it say?"
Kabir met his eyes.
"Don't go back."
Silence followed.
Neither disbelief nor confusion.
Just the quiet weight of something that didn't fit.
Harsh exhaled slowly through his nose, his jaw tightening. "Then you definitely should," he muttered.
Kabir looked at him. "That's your conclusion?"
Harsh glanced toward the door, then back at them. "If something inside that forest doesn't want you going back," he said, "it means you're closer to the truth than you think."
The logic wasn't comforting.
But it made sense.
Raghav didn't respond immediately. His eyes drifted toward Aarohi for a moment, her still form unchanged, then back to Kabir. "We don't turn back now," he said quietly.
Kabir nodded.
There wasn't really another option.
Harsh pushed himself off the wall finally, moving toward the corner of the room where a few scattered tools and scrap pieces had been set aside. "Then stop standing around," he said. "If you're going into that place again, you go prepared."
The shift was subtle, but real.
Metal scraped lightly against wood as he pulled a few pieces closer, examining them with quick, practiced movements. His hands moved with familiarity, selecting, discarding, adjusting, not rushed, but efficient.
Kabir watched him for a moment, then crouched beside the small pile he had brought in earlier, pushing a few rusted fragments closer. "Will this work?"
Harsh barely glanced. "It'll have to."
Raghav stayed where he was, near Aarohi, his presence still anchored to her even as his attention remained on everything else. The knife hadn't left his hand.
The room is filled with a different kind of sound now.
Metal against metal.
Dull. Controlled. Intentional.
Harsh worked without speaking for a while, shaping something from the pieces with short, precise strikes, his focus narrowing completely. The first form began to take shape slowly, thicker than expected, uneven along one edge, the weight of it obvious even before it was fully formed.
Kabir leaned slightly closer, studying it. "That feels… heavy."
"It is," Harsh replied shortly.
Kabir watched a moment longer, then said quietly, almost to himself, "You won't be able to swing that fast."
Harsh didn't respond.
He simply set it aside.
Not discarded. Not finished.
Just… placed away.
And reached for another piece.
This time, his movements shifted slightly, lighter, more balanced, the shape forming cleaner, sharper, more suited for what they would actually need.
Raghav noticed the difference, but didn't comment.
The first one remained where it was.
Silent.
Unremarked.
Outside, something shifted again.
A faint sound—distant, stretched thin by the still air.
Not a hiss.
Sharper. Brief.
Gone before it could fully settle.
Kabir's head lifted slightly.
Raghav's eyes moved to the door.
Harsh paused for just a fraction of a second.
Then they continued working.
No one spoke because they all heard it and none of them knew-
if it had been meant for them.