Ahaan couldn't sleep.
His hands were shaking.
His heart still beating fast.
The memory of Niva's cold voice kept echoing in his head:
"Why do I still see your face in the fire?"
He didn't understand.
He was just a baby when the orphanage burned down.
But now, the ghosts from that place were blaming him.
He turned in bed.
The journal was still beside him, closed shut.
But he could feel it… breathing.
It was alive.
Watching.
Waiting for him to open it.
Then—
A sound.
A whisper.
So soft it felt like it came from inside his head:
"Ahaan… come to the whisper room…"
He sat up fast.
"Who said that?" he whispered.
No answer.
He grabbed the journal.
It opened by itself.
A new message had appeared:
"You heard them, didn't you?"
"The Whisper Room remembers all."
Ahaan stared at the page.
A drawing was forming—
A long hallway.
Walls covered in mouths.
All whispering at once.
Below the picture, it said:
"Follow the trail of silence."
That night, Ahaan followed the voice again.
He didn't even change his clothes.
He walked barefoot, through the silent house.
Everything around him felt off.
The clocks had stopped ticking.
No wind.
No dogs barking.
Just silence.
He stepped out of the house.
The streetlights blinked.
The road seemed longer than usual.
And yet… he kept walking.
After 30 minutes, he reached a building he had never seen before.
A small, broken structure.
Looked like a house.
But something about it was wrong.
No doors.
Just one narrow entrance like a cave.
Above it, someone had carved:
"THE WHISPER ROOM"
Ahaan hesitated.
But then he heard it again:
"Ahaan…"
He stepped inside.
Darkness swallowed him.
The walls were made of stone.
Wet. Cold.
And covered with handprints.
The deeper he walked, the more he could hear it—
Whispers.
Low. Soft.
But too many voices.
They weren't just talking.
They were crying.
Begging.
Laughing.
All at once.
The hallway split into three.
He didn't know which way to go.
So he closed his eyes.
And listened.
The right side was too loud.
The left… angry whispers.
But the middle?
Nothing.
Just silence.
That's what the journal said to follow.
"The trail of silence."
He walked forward.
Each step heavier than the last.
He reached a room.
It was empty.
No furniture.
No windows.
Just four walls…
…and whispers inside them.
Suddenly, the door behind him slammed shut.
Pitch black.
Then—
The walls started to speak.
Not with mouths.
But with the voices of the dead.
"We were forgotten."
"We whispered. No one heard."
"He locked us here. With our screams."
Ahaan backed up.
He was trapped.
The whispers grew louder.
Faster.
Voices overlapping.
He couldn't think.
He covered his ears—
But the voices were now inside his head.
"You're one of us now…"
"Your voice will stay here too…"
"Forever…"
Ahaan screamed.
"No! Let me go!"
Then—
the journal glowed in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
One word had appeared on the page:
"Speak."
He didn't understand.
He whispered, "Speak? What do I say?!"
The journal lit up again:
"Your truth."
Ahaan took a deep breath.
His hands were shaking.
He looked at the walls.
And shouted:
"I'm sorry I forgot you!"
"I didn't know your pain—But I feel it now!"
"I will remember you!"
"I will find who did this to you—just let me out!"
The whispers stopped.
Total silence.
Then—
a mouth opened on the wall in front of him.
It whispered:
"Then listen carefully… he's still watching."
The wall cracked open.
A light appeared.
And Ahaan fell through—
—
He woke up on the street outside the building.
The Whisper Room was gone.
Like it had never existed.
Only the journal remained, glowing.
Inside, a new name appeared:
"The Watcher is near."
"He's not a spirit."
"He's something worse."
Ahaan looked up at the sky.
The stars were gone.
And in the distance…
A pair of glowing eyes blinked once—
then vanished.
Then...