"So close to truth, they laughed aloud,
But truth had teeth, and trees that bow.
A wheel turned wrong, a blink too late,
And fate uncoiled its woven gate.
The forest took them not with rage—
It simply opened… like a page.
A village waits with lamps alight,
But not all warmth is truly right."
"There it is!" Yashpal shouted, leaning out the side window. "Look, look! The board says Bhairavpur – 3 kilometers!"
Everyone cheered. The heavy atmosphere that had been lingering since the toll road finally lifted like a stubborn fog. Even Kabir cracked a smile.
"Finally," Saanvi groaned. "I thought I'd grow old in this van."
"Shut up," Priya said, still fixing her lipstick. "You already look like a forest spirit."
Laughter erupted again.
Meghna even tucked her book aside and leaned forward. "We should reach in ten minutes, tops. Anyone want to bet we'll find a villager who's blind but sees ghosts?"
Kabir grinned. "Only if they sell haunted snacks too."
Abhay didn't speak. He just stared out the cracked glass, one finger lightly tapping his knee. His eyes hadn't blinked in a while.
Outside, the trees grew denser, but the road remained clear—until it didn't.
The squirrel darted from the underbrush like a silver blur. The driver cursed and instinctively twisted the wheel hard left.
"WHAT THE FU—"
The tempo traveler swerved violently. Tires screamed against gravel. The world spun sideways.
They hit something. Wood cracked. Leaves exploded into the cabin. Gravity shifted. Someone screamed.
The entire vehicle flipped down into the trees with a crash that sounded too silent for its violence.
And then—
—nothing.
A moment later, a cough. A groan. The sound of broken plastic falling off a chest.
Kabir's eyes blinked open.
"Shit... what the hell...?"
He looked around. Dazed faces. Bruised foreheads. Leaves and dust covered everyone.
Saanvi was sitting upright against the crushed window. "Am I dead? Is this hell? Because I'm still seeing Rohit."
"I'm fine too, thanks for asking," Rohit wheezed. "Someone elbowed my ribs on the way down."
"Shut up," Meghna coughed. "I'm alive. I think."
They all slowly moved—bruised but intact. Somehow.
Only one person remained motionless.
The driver.
"Hey," Kabir said, crawling over. "Hey, man. Oi!"
No response. His chest rose very slowly, shallow. Pulse barely there.
"He's not dead," Priya said, checking his neck. "Unconscious. Maybe a concussion."
"Leave him," Yashpal muttered. "We can't carry him, and Bhairavpur's just a walk away."
Kabir frowned. "That's messed up, bro."
"Not like we're abandoning him in a warzone," Rohit said, pulling his bag. "We'll come back with help."
Abhay, rubbing blood from a small cut on his eyebrow, looked up for the first time.
"We're already in it."
Everyone turned.
"What?"
Abhay stood up slowly, voice low but firm. "The warzone. The moment we left that toll. This isn't toward Bhairavpur. It's into something else."
Priya narrowed her eyes. "Stop speaking in poetry, Abhay. We just fell. That's it."
Kabir didn't argue. But as they gathered themselves and climbed out of the crushed traveler into the forest clearing, he noticed something strange—
Not one bird.
No insects.
No wind.
Just stillness.
As if the trees were holding their breath.
They walked.
The branches above them were woven like skeletal fingers. The mist began to roll low against their ankles, though it wasn't yet night.
They followed the barely-there path, muddy and broken. Half an hour passed. Then they saw it.
The gate.
An old stone arch, cracked in the center, engraved with ancient Sanskrit that none of them could read. Bells hung from both sides, unmoving despite the breeze.
On the other side—
Bhairavpur.
And it was... alive.
Lamps flickered in windows.
Smoke rose from distant chimneys.
A group of children ran laughing down a dirt path. A woman with a cloth-wrapped basket smiled gently as she walked past a shrine.
Saanvi gasped. "It's beautiful."
Meghna whispered, "I didn't expect it to feel so... warm."
But Kabir's skin prickled.
There was something in the wind.
It wasn't the sound. It wasn't the light.
It was the texture of the air—too soft, too still, as if the warmth itself was draped over something cold. The kind of warmth that didn't grow from within… but covered something, like a smile stretched over rotten teeth.
Still, they entered.
The villagers greeted them politely. Someone offered water. A man in a turban gave them directions to the school building where travelers usually stayed.
The group laughed again.
Relief settled in.
But Kabir didn't laugh this time.
As they walked deeper into Bhairavpur, he turned once—just once—and saw someone far behind at the village entrance.
Standing completely still in shadow.
The shape of a man.
But not one of the villagers.
Not the driver.
Not Abhay.
Just a shape.
Watching.
And then it was gone.
"Not all crashes break bones.
Some… crack open the door between what was
and what is still waiting to be remembered."