From me: "Some stories are not written with ink — but with screams, shadows, and silence."
The world around Ahaan had vanished.
After Now One second, he was in the dusty, half-rotted library clutching a strange book — and the next, he was falling through pitch blackness.
No ground.
No sound.
Just darkness.
It wasn't like falling from a building or into water — it was slower, like drifting down a deep, endless well. And yet, the fear was real. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. He tried to scream, but the sound stuck in his throat.
Suddenly, his feet hit solid ground.
THUD.
Ahaan stumbled, knees buckling. He landed on something cold. Wet. When he looked down, it wasn't a floor — it was fog. Thick, swirling, grey fog that moved like it had a mind of its own. It curled around his legs like cold snakes, seeping into his socks, biting his skin with icy damp.
He looked up.
He wasn't in the library anymore.
He stood on a narrow path surrounded by towering trees. But they didn't look right. Their branches twisted like claws, their bark was black, and their leaves... weren't green. They were grey. Dead. And not a single bird or insect could be heard.
The silence was terrifying.
It was the kind of silence you feel in your bones — the kind that made you believe something was watching you... even when you saw nothing.
Then, he heard it again.
The voice.
"You've arrived," it said, calm and deep.
Ahaan spun around and saw the man from the library — the one in the long dusty coat and wide-brimmed hat. His face was still hidden beneath shadows, but his presence was strange. Not warm. Not cold. Just... wrong.
"Where am I?" Ahaan asked, his voice shaking.
"The place between places," the man replied. "We call it The Whisper Realm."
Ahaan narrowed his eyes. "Why am I here?"
The man stepped closer. The fog didn't touch him. "Because you asked questions no one else dared to ask. You went looking for stories that others ran from. And now... the stories have found you."
A chill ran down Ahaan's spine.
"This is a world built by forgotten things," the man continued. "Urban legends, lost spirits, cursed places, haunted whispers... they all come here. When people forget them — when the living stop believing — they gather here, and wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For someone like you."
The man reached into his coat and pulled out the same black book Ahaan had found in the library. Only now, it glowed faintly. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This book is now yours. It holds the names of all the stories that have been buried. And one by one, it will take you to them. But be warned, Ahaan... not every story wants to be found."
Ahaan took the book slowly. It was heavier now. Warmer too — like it was alive.
"I don't understand," he whispered.
"You will," the man said. "Turn the first page."
Ahaan opened it.
The page was blank — then, as if written by invisible ink, words began to appear:
"Case One: The Girl in the Mirror."
Location: Banshi Villa, Jasranpur.
Status: Unsolved. Spirit Active. Do Not Engage Without Caution.
Suddenly, the trees around him began to twist. The fog grew thicker. A cold wind blew, and a sound filled the air — a soft, slow giggle. A girl's giggle.
The path ahead shifted. A doorway formed out of the fog.
The man nodded toward it. "Your first case begins now."
"But I'm just a kid!" Ahaan cried. "What if something goes wrong?"
The man tilted his head. "Then your name becomes a story in the book too."
Before Ahaan could say another word, the fog rushed forward like a wave and swallowed him whole.
When he opened his eyes again, he was standing outside an old house.
Banshi Villa.
It looked abandoned. Vines crept up the walls, windows were shattered, and the front gate creaked open and shut, over and over again, as if waving him in. The street was completely empty. Not a single car. Not a sound. Even the birds refused to fly above it.
He stepped forward.
The air was colder here. A chill settled in his chest like a weight. As he reached the front door, it opened on its own with a long, slow creaaaak.
Inside, the house smelled of mold and dust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Picture frames lined the hallway, but all the faces in them were scratched out.
And then, he saw her.
A mirror stood at the end of the hallway. Cracked. Dirty. And in it, a figure.
A girl.
She wore a white dress stained with something dark. Her long hair hung in front of her face. Her eyes were hollow. And though Ahaan stood perfectly still, her reflection slowly raised its hand...
And waved.
He gasped and looked behind him.
Nothing.
He looked back at the mirror. The girl was now closer.
Closer.
Closer.
He stumbled back, heart racing. The reflection smiled.
And whispered:
"You saw me... Now I can see you."
The lights above flickered.
The floorboards groaned.
And the mirror cracked even more, as if something inside was pushing to get out , Now get out.