That evening, the school building stood unusually quiet. The day's classes were over, students had gone home, and the long corridors echoed with only the sounds of the ceiling fans and distant footsteps.
But one figure still walked the halls.
Ms. Jayasree Mukherjee.
She moved with a grace that was both elegant and unsettling. Her red hair flowed behind her like a ribbon of fire, and her heels made no sound as they struck the floor.
She paused near the library door.
Slipping a key from her pocket, she unlocked it and stepped inside.
The lights remained off.
Inside, the room was cloaked in twilight. She walked straight to the back corner—where old records were kept, ones not even the librarian touched.
She reached for a hidden latch behind a bookshelf.
Click.
A part of the wall shifted, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling down.
Meanwhile, in another part of the school, someone else was watching.
A girl moved silently, her footsteps careful, her breath held.
She had seen Jayasree enter the library. And she had seen the door close behind her… but no light turn on.
She waited five minutes.
Then followed.
Inside the library, the girl noticed a small draft of air—unnatural, cold. It came from the far end, near the records shelf.
She pressed her hand against the wall.
Nothing.
But she saw something odd—a faint line of dust disturbed on the floor. A secret passage?
She began to search carefully, her fingers brushing over the shelf until—
Click.
The wall moved.
And behind it, darkness.
She took a breath, pulled out her phone, turned on the flashlight, and stepped inside.
Below, Ms. Jayasree lit a single candle in what appeared to be a hidden chamber. Symbols had been drawn on the floor. At the center, an old journal lay open—its pages covered in red ink, circles, and a name repeated several times:
Ananya.
And beneath it—
Sanchayita.
Suddenly, she paused.
She turned slowly, eyes narrowing.
Someone was watching her.
But when she looked—no one was there.
She frowned… and blew out the candle.
Darkness swallowed the room again.
Back in the corridor, the girl who had followed her stood hidden behind the now-closed secret wall. Her chest pounded.
She had seen the journal.
The names.
The truth was deeper than she thought.
And it was still unfolding.
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To be continued…