Ahaan sat on the cold floor of the orphanage.
He couldn't stop shaking.
His heart was beating too fast, and his shirt was soaked with sweat.
The air still smelled like smoke…
but there was no fire.
No ashes.
No children.
No Jai.
Only the journal was still there—
lying open on the floor.
The same words stared back at him:
"You've been marked, Ahaan. The fire isn't finished."
He picked it up slowly.
His hands were trembling.
The ink started to bleed and move on the page.
It shaped itself into something else—
A small drawing of his house.
And right above it, in red:
"It has already begun."
Ahaan's eyes widened.
"No…" he whispered. "Not my home…"
He ran.
Out of the orphanage.
Through the broken gate.
Past the fog and the dried-up grass.
He kept running until his legs felt like they were about to break.
When he reached his neighborhood, something felt wrong.
Too quiet.
No kids playing.
No dogs barking.
Not even the wind.
He looked up at his house—
The windows were black.
Like the light inside had been eaten by something.
He pushed open the front door.
"Ma?" he called out, breathing hard.
No answer.
Only the faint sound of something… crackling.
It was coming from the kitchen.
He stepped inside—
and gasped.
The oven was on. Flames dancing inside.
But the fire wasn't normal. It was blue.
And inside the flames, he saw something—
A face.
A burnt face… smiling at him.
Jai.
The fire whispered:
"You brought the flame back, Ahaan."
He slammed the oven door shut.
The fire went out.
But as he turned, the walls around him started to change.
Black handprints appeared on the wallpaper.
One by one.
Some small, like a child's.
Some large and twisted.
They spread across the house—
The ceiling, the floor, the mirrors.
Like ghosts had left their marks all over.
He ran to his room.
Shut the door.
But the journal had followed him again.
Lying open on his bed.
Ahaan was breathing fast.
His vision was spinning.
He grabbed his phone and tried to call his mom.
No signal.
Just a glitchy message on the screen:
"You can't hide in light. The fire sees in the dark."
His bedroom light exploded.
Glass flew across the room.
Now only darkness.
From under the bed, a slow scratching sound began.
Like nails on wood.
Scrrrrrrch. Scrrrrrrch.
He stepped back, heart pounding in his ears.
Then something crawled out—
Not a person. Not a ghost.
Something in between.
A child's body… but its skin looked like burnt candle wax.
Its eyes were just black holes.
And it opened its mouth—
but no sound came out.
Just smoke.
Ahaan screamed and ran.
Down the stairs. Out the front door.
Into the street.
But the street wasn't normal anymore.
All the houses were melting.
Lights flickered like dying stars.
Smoke filled the air.
Then, from every direction—
he heard the music box tune.
Soft.
Sad.
Broken.
Ting... ting... ting...
He dropped to his knees in the street.
Clutching his head.
"Why is this happening to me?!"
Then—
A soft voice behind him.
"Because you're the only one who left the door open."
Ahaan turned slowly.
It was Jai again.
Standing in the smoke.
His body was burning, but he didn't scream.
He just stared.
Then pointed at Ahaan's chest.
"You're not just part of the fire…" he said.
"You are the fire."
Ahaan's chest burned.
He screamed—
and saw his arms glowing red.
Like his skin was catching flame from the inside.
He fell.
Everything went black.
When he woke up… he was back in his room.
But the journal was on his chest.
A new sentence was written:
"Next, the girl with the bell."
Next...