Now Ahaan's chest was tight. The hallway felt smaller now, like the walls were inching closer. The mirror doors no longer showed his reflection — just darkness.
The journal in his hand twitched, like it wanted to be opened. But he didn't dare look.
From somewhere deep inside the house came a slow, dragging sound. Like something heavy was crawling over the floor.
Saira's voice whispered right in his ear — but when he turned, she was standing at the other end of the hall.
Her black eyes locked onto him.
"It's awake," she said.
Ahaan swallowed hard. "The Watcher?"
Saira nodded once. Her voice was low and sharp.
"It can't be seen until it wants to be. But it sees you now."
The sound grew louder.
Something moved behind the walls — scraping, breathing, shifting.
Ahaan's eyes darted to the nearest painting.
It had no eyes. But as he stared, two black shapes slowly formed in the empty sockets… and blinked.
The painting watched him.
"Don't look back," Saira warned. "If it knows you've seen it, it will come faster."
She took his hand and pulled him down the hall. Her skin was ice-cold, like touching frozen glass.
They ran past door after door, each mirror door vibrating as if something inside wanted to get out. A faint tapping came from behind one.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Like long nails against glass.
They reached the end of the hallway. A spiral staircase went down into pitch darkness.
Saira didn't stop.
"Down. Now."
The steps creaked under their weight. Every sound felt too loud, like the house was listening.
Halfway down, Ahaan glanced back up — and froze.
At the top of the stairs stood a tall shadow.
It didn't move. It didn't breathe.
But its head tilted slowly, like it was studying him.
The shadow had one feature — a single, black, glowing eye in the center of its face.
The Watcher.
Ahaan's stomach dropped. The air felt heavy, pressing against his chest.
Saira hissed, "Don't stop!"
They reached the bottom and stepped into a basement.
The smell hit him first — damp stone, rotting wood, and something metallic.
The floor was covered in shallow water that rippled around their ankles. Chains hung from the ceiling, swaying even though there was no wind.
In the corner, a wooden door lay flat on the ground — but it wasn't a trapdoor. It was a door made entirely of bones, tied together with black thread.
The same door from his father's journal.
Saira stopped in front of it.
"This is where your father sealed it. The Watcher's prison."
Ahaan stared at her. "If it's sealed, why is it here?"
Her smile was bitter.
"Because I'm the lock. And I'm breaking."
A loud crack came from upstairs. The house groaned, shaking dust from the ceiling. The water around them rippled hard, though nothing touched it.
Saira grabbed Ahaan's wrist. Her grip was strong now. Almost painful.
"If it takes you, the curse will start again. You have to run."
"I'm not leaving you!" Ahaan said, his voice shaking.
Saira's black eyes softened just for a moment.
"You're already part of this, Ahaan. Your father made sure of it. But maybe… maybe you can end it."
The scraping sound came again — this time from the walls of the basement. Something massive was moving inside them, making the stone bulge as if the walls were stretching.
Then came the voice.
Not in his ears.
Inside his head.
"I see you."
A black claw punched through the wall, sending water splashing. The claw was too long, too thin, and it dripped thick, tar-like liquid.
Another claw followed. Then an arm. Then the head — with that one black eye glowing brighter.
The Watcher stepped through the wall as if the stone was made of smoke.
Ahaan couldn't move. His legs felt locked. His mind was screaming but his body stayed frozen.
Saira shoved him hard toward the stairs.
"Go! Now!"
"I can't leave—"
"GO!" she screamed, her voice turning into an echo of a hundred voices at once.
He stumbled up the stairs.
Behind him, the basement filled with splashing water and tearing sounds. Saira's voice rose — not in pain, but in a strange chant.
The house shook violently. The mirrors upstairs shattered one by one, releasing shadows that slithered along the floor toward him.
He ran, every breath burning his throat. The front door came into view — but it was closing on its own.
Ahaan lunged. He made it through just before it slammed shut behind him.
Outside, the forest was silent. No wind. No sound.
The house stood still, its windows dark — except for one upstairs.
In that window, Saira was standing. Her black eyes glowed faintly in the dark. She didn't wave. She didn't speak.
But her lips moved — forming one word.
Run.
Ahaan stumbled backward into the trees, clutching the journal. His whole body shook.
When he finally dared to look at the journal, a new page had appeared. The ink was still wet.
"The lock is breaking. The door will open. Find the place where the walls hum."
He didn't know what it meant. But he knew one thing.
The Watcher was not trapped anymore.
And it knew his name.
And now...