Ahaan stepped forward.
The mirror in the Sleeper's hand cracked into pieces.
The ground under him began to shift, like a broken puzzle sliding apart.
The world turned dark — not like nighttime, but like someone had sucked all the light out of it.
He wasn't standing anymore.
He was floating.
Weightless.
Like a thought drifting through someone else's dream.
Then his feet touched the ground again.
He was standing in a room.
A giant, empty white room.
No doors.
No windows.
Just one thing in the middle.
A chair.
And sitting in the chair… was his father.
But not the father Ahaan remembered.
This version looked older, tired, and scared.
His hands were shaking.
His face was pale.
Ahaan stepped closer.
"Baba…?"
The man didn't look up.
He just whispered, "I told them not to open it."
Ahaan's heart raced.
"Baba, it's me. Ahaan. What is this place?"
Now the man looked up.
His eyes were cloudy, like he hadn't seen the real world in years.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"You really shouldn't be here."
Suddenly, the white walls began melting.
Like wet paint dripping down glass.
Ahaan turned around — and the room was gone.
Now he stood in a long, dark hallway.
The lights above flickered.
There were doors on both sides.
He heard whispers behind the doors.
And each door had a label.
One read: "Memory 1: The First Experiment"
Another: "Memory 5: The Screaming Room"
Ahaan didn't want to open any of them.
But something inside whispered, "You have to."
He reached for the first door.
His hand was shaking.
Click.
The door opened on its own.
Inside, he saw a younger version of his father.
Wearing a lab coat.
Standing in a small room with another man.
They were both staring at a strange box.
A music box — just like the one Ahaan found earlier.
His father said in the memory, "We found it buried under the orphanage. It hums even when closed. We think… it's alive."
The other man looked worried.
"We should destroy it."
But his father shook his head.
"No. We need to understand it."
The door slammed shut.
Ahaan backed away.
The hallway started to twist — stretching like rubber.
Now he was standing at a different door.
Memory 9: The Day Everything Broke
He didn't want to see it.
But the door opened anyway.
He saw his father again — running down a hallway.
Red lights flashing.
Screams coming from every direction.
Shadow figures crawling along the ceiling.
A child's voice was humming the lullaby.
The journal in his hand was glowing, pages flipping by themselves.
He shouted, "Close the door! CLOSE IT!"
Then everything went black.
Ahaan stepped out of the memory.
He was breathing hard.
His hands were cold.
"What did you do, Baba…" he whispered.
The hallway around him cracked like glass.
And then—shattered.
He fell again — spinning through darkness.
When he landed, he was in a small room.
Stone walls.
A single candle.
And carved into the wall… was a message written in blood:
"The Hollow Mind remembers everything."
Suddenly, the journal appeared in his lap again.
He opened it.
Now, the pages weren't just writing his story.
They were writing his father's too.
Everything matched what he had just seen in the memories.
But one line stood out:
"Only one can leave. The boy or the past."
Ahaan felt trapped.
The Hollow Mind wasn't just a place.
It was alive.
It was made of memories, thoughts, guilt, and fear.
It was his father's prison.
And now it was his too.
He heard footsteps behind him.
Turned.
The Sleeper was there again.
Its voice echoed without a mouth:
"You want answers, Ahaan?"
"Yes," he said. "Why is this happening to me?"
"Because you opened the journal.
Because you looked for what was buried.
Because your father was the first key… and now, you're the second."
Ahaan clenched his fists.
"What happens if I destroy the journal?"
The Sleeper tilted its head.
"Then the memories die.
But so does the way out."
Ahaan looked at the journal.
It was glowing faintly.
He remembered what his father's last message had said:
Curiosity is not a gift. It is a trap.
So now he had a choice:
Burn the journal and end this madness.
Or go deeper and try to find the one true exit.
He heard a voice again — but this time, it wasn't the Sleeper.
It was his own voice, from far away.
Calling for help.
"Don't leave me here…"
He looked up.
A doorway was appearing ahead.
It flickered like a glitch in a video game.
Ahaan picked up the journal, took a deep breath… and walked through.
Then..