The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves outside Dev's window. He lay in bed, the wooden piece resting on his desk, its smooth surface catching the dim glow of his bedside lamp.
He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Singh's room in chaos, papers and drawers scattered, and that small, mysterious piece of wood glowing faintly in his mind.
A sudden creak made him sit up. The sound came from the corridor. Dev froze, straining his ears. Was it the house settling, or something else? A shadow flickered across the doorway, but when he blinked, it was gone.
"Just my imagination…" he muttered, though unease crawled up his spine.
Shubham, who had insisted on staying over, was already at Singh's study table, flipping through old notes. The desk was cluttered with sketches, half-faded diagrams of artifacts, and cryptic symbols.
"Look at this," Shubham whispered, pointing to a page with a strange pattern carved into a triangle. "Doesn't this symbol… match the wooden piece?"
Dev leaned closer. Sure enough, the carvings on the wood mirrored the intricate symbol in Singh's notes."It does… but what does it mean?" Dev asked, tracing the lines with his finger.
Shubham shook his head. "No idea. Singh never finished this research… at least nothing explains this piece."
They pored over the papers, discovering references to ancient structures, hidden artifacts across India, and warnings in Singh's handwriting: "Objects that resist time cannot fall into the wrong hands."
Dev's heart skipped a beat. "Shubham… someone could be after this. Someone knows we have it."
Outside, the wind howled through the trees, and a shadow shifted past the window again. This time, Dev saw it clearly — fleeting, silent, watching.
He swallowed hard, gripping the wooden piece."They're here," he whispered.
The night seemed to grow darker, and the house suddenly felt colder, heavier, as though it too was holding its breath.