Ahaan hadn't slept.
He had spent the night hiding in an old bus stop outside the orphanage grounds, the journal clutched tight to his chest. The image of Saira's black eyes at the window wouldn't leave his mind.
Her last word kept echoing.
Run.
But he couldn't run forever.
The Watcher knew him now. It would follow him wherever he went.
He had to find the "place where the walls hum," just like the journal said.
The morning light made the journal's pages look pale and thin. But when Ahaan turned to the newest entry, the ink was still dark and fresh.
"Go north. Follow the sound you cannot hear until you close your eyes."
Ahaan frowned. "Follow the sound you can't hear?"
It made no sense. But he had nothing else to go on.
He began walking north, deeper into the forest. Branches scraped at his jacket. Somewhere far away, crows called — but the sound was dull, like it was being swallowed.
Hours passed. The sky turned grey again.
That's when he heard it.
At first, it wasn't a sound exactly — more like a vibration in his bones. A deep, low hum, steady and slow. It wasn't coming from above or around him.
It was coming through the ground.
He closed his eyes. The hum grew louder. His feet turned on their own, guiding him toward it.
When he opened his eyes again, the forest had ended. In front of him stood a huge, black stone building. No windows. No doors. Its walls were smooth but covered in strange symbols like the ones in his father's journal.
And the hum was coming from inside.
He walked along the side, searching for a way in.
At the very back, he found a metal door half-buried in dirt and moss. It looked like it hadn't been opened in years.
Ahaan gripped the handle and pulled. It groaned, resisted, then gave way with a loud scrape. A rush of cold air escaped, smelling like damp earth and rust.
He stepped inside.
The first thing he noticed was the walls.
They weren't stone or wood — they looked like flesh. Dark, stretched, pulsing slightly with each hum. His stomach turned.
The hum here was so loud now it made his teeth ache.
The hallway was narrow, lit by faint blue lights embedded in the walls.
As he walked, the lights flickered in a rhythm — almost like breathing.
The journal in his pocket shifted. When he pulled it out, a new line of handwriting had appeared:
"This is where I tried to speak to it."
— Father
He moved deeper into the building until he found a large circular room.
In the center stood a massive stone chair, chained to the floor. Carved into the back of the chair was the same eye symbol he had seen before — The Watcher's eye.
But the worst part wasn't the chair.
It was the fact that someone was already sitting in it.
Ahaan's breath caught.
The figure was thin, skin pale and stretched tight over bone. Its head was tilted down, hair falling over its face. It looked dead… until it spoke.
"You have his blood."
Ahaan stepped back. "Who… who are you?"
The figure lifted its head slowly.
Its eyes were sealed shut with black thread.
"Your father came here," it said in a voice that was both male and female at once. "He thought he could make a deal. He gave it a home in the girl. But he never told you what it wanted in the end."
Ahaan's voice shook. "What does it want?"
The figure leaned forward, the chains rattling.
"It wants out."
The hum grew so loud that Ahaan's vision blurred. The walls around the room began to twitch. A seam split open in the flesh-like wall behind the figure, revealing a dark hole.
From that hole came a single, long hand — black, clawed, dripping with the same tar-like liquid he had seen before.
The Watcher.
Ahaan backed toward the doorway. But before he could move further, the chained figure screamed. Not in fear — in pain. Black smoke poured from its mouth, swirling in the air before rushing toward the hole.
The Watcher's claw stopped. It seemed to… wait.
The figure's stitched eyes turned toward Ahaan.
"You can't keep running. Your blood is the last key. And now it knows where you are."
The walls began to close in, pulsing faster, like a beating heart. The hum turned into a deep growl. Ahaan sprinted down the hallway, the blue lights bursting one by one as he passed.
He burst out of the building into the grey daylight, gasping for breath. Behind him, the door slammed shut with a sound like a heartbeat stopping.
When he looked at the journal, another message had been added.
"The girl is still the lock. But the lock is breaking. When it breaks… the door will open."
Ahaan gripped the journal tighter.
He now knew two things for certain:
The Watcher was almost free.
And his father had lied about everything.
And then...