The storm had returned by dawn, lashing Ramgarh with sheets of rain. Thunder rolled like war drums above the mountains, and lightning cut jagged scars across the sky.
Vihaan sat by the window of his hotel room, the torn page spread on the desk before him. His camera lay untouched; the story of tourism was long forgotten. Only one headline mattered now—The Disappearance of Nayra Verma.
The locket dangled from his fingers, swaying gently. He had barely slept. The boy's words echoed relentlessly: "They take them below—the tunnels lead deeper. Beneath the cliffs, there's a chamber they call the Hollow."
The Hollow. The name itself carried dread.
Vihaan knew what he had to do. If Nayra was alive, that's where she would be. And if she wasn't… he had to see the truth with his own eyes.
---
A Visit to Nayra's Father
Before risking the cliffs again, Vihaan decided to see the one man who might still hold pieces of the puzzle—Nayra's father. The bookshop looked even more desolate in the rain, its wooden frame sagging under years of neglect.
Inside, the old man sat hunched at the counter, staring blankly at a closed book. He looked as though he hadn't slept in years.
Vihaan approached quietly. "Sir… I found something."
The man didn't look up. "Go away. I told you—I don't want your questions."
Vihaan placed the locket gently on the counter. The old man's eyes widened as if struck by lightning. His trembling fingers reached for it, clutching it like a lifeline.
"Where… where did you find this?" His voice cracked.
"A man gave it to me," Vihaan replied. "He said if I found the Circle, I'd find her."
The old man's face drained of color. He gripped the counter for support. "You fool," he whispered hoarsely. "If they know you carry this… they'll come for you."
"They already did," Vihaan said grimly. "I barely escaped last night. But I can't stop. Not now. Tell me about the Circle. Please."
For a long moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the rain tapping against the windows. Then, slowly, the old man sank into his chair.
"My daughter… she asked the same questions. She wouldn't let it go. She believed words could expose them, that light could burn their shadows away." His eyes glistened. "But Ramgarh has always belonged to the Circle. Even I—her father—couldn't protect her."
Vihaan leaned forward. "Who are they?"
The old man's voice dropped to a whisper. "They are not strangers. They are the ones you greet in daylight, the ones who smile at you in the marketplace. Twelve of them, bound by oath. Masks at night, faces by day. That's how they've survived for centuries."
"Do you know where they took her?"
The old man closed his eyes. "The Hollow. It is where all sacrifices end. I begged her not to go near it. But she did. And when she vanished… I knew."
His hands clutched the locket tighter. "Outsider, leave. Save yourself. I already lost my daughter. Don't let them take you too."
But Vihaan shook his head. "I can't. If I walk away, her story dies. And I didn't come here to bury the truth."
For the first time, the old man's eyes met his with something like hope—or desperation. "Then God help you. Because no one who enters the Hollow returns."
---
Preparing for Descent
Vihaan returned to his hotel with resolve hardening inside him. He packed his camera, a spare torch, batteries, a notebook, and a flask of water. His journalist's tools would now serve as weapons against silence.
But he knew he couldn't go alone. He thought of the boy—the only ally he had in this cursed town. He slipped a note under a stone near the old well, hoping the boy would find it:
"Tonight. The cliffs. The Hollow. If you want to save her."
---
The Gathering at the Cliffs
Night fell heavy, cloaking the mountains in mist. Vihaan made his way to the cliffs, the roar of the storm muffled by the dense forest. The mansion loomed once more, its broken windows glowing faintly with reflected lightning.
To his relief, the boy appeared from the trees, soaked to the bone, his face pale.
"You're insane," the boy hissed. "If the Circle catches us—"
"They already know I'm here," Vihaan cut in. "We don't have time. You said the Hollow is beneath the cliffs. Show me."
The boy hesitated, fear warring with loyalty. Finally, he nodded. "Follow me."
They slipped behind the mansion, where the land sloped sharply downward. The boy led him through a narrow path half-hidden by shrubs, until they reached a jagged opening in the rock. Cold air wafted from within, smelling of damp stone and decay.
"The Hollow begins here," the boy whispered.
Vihaan's torch cut into the darkness, revealing a yawning tunnel that sloped deep into the earth. The walls glistened with moisture, symbols scratched into their surface. Circles within circles, spirals broken by jagged lines.
Every instinct screamed at him to turn back. But Nayra's voice from her notebook seemed to echo in his mind: "If anything happens to me, it won't be because I ran away."
He stepped inside.
---
Descent into Darkness
The tunnel twisted downward endlessly, their footsteps echoing. Water dripped in steady beats, like the ticking of a clock.
"Do you hear that?" the boy whispered.
Vihaan paused. Faintly, from below, came the sound of chanting. Low, rhythmic, in a language he didn't understand. It grew louder as they descended, vibrating through the stone itself.
His skin prickled. They were close.
The tunnel widened suddenly, opening into a massive cavern. Torches burned in iron brackets, their flames dancing in the draft. And in the center…
Vihaan's breath caught.
Twelve figures stood in a circle, cloaked and masked, their faces hidden behind carved wooden visages. Each mask was different—wolf, serpent, crow, goat—but all were grotesque, their eyes hollow.
Between them, on the ground, a circle was drawn in chalk and ash. Strange symbols coiled within it, and at its heart lay chains.
Empty chains.
But were they waiting for someone?
---
Discovery
Vihaan crouched behind a boulder, the boy trembling beside him. His torch was off; only the Circle's fire illuminated the cavern.
One of the masked figures raised a book—the same kind Vihaan had seen in the tunnels—and began to chant. The others joined, their voices rising in dreadful harmony.
"The Circle of Silence binds us. The Hollow devours what must be given."
The words made Vihaan's stomach churn.
Suddenly, another figure stepped forward—taller, with a mask shaped like a stag. His voice boomed. "The time has come. The shadows stir. Tonight, we seal them once more."
He gestured to the chains. "Bring the sacrifice."
From a side tunnel, two men appeared, dragging a struggling figure between them.
Vihaan's heart stopped.
It was Nayra.
---
The Sacrifice
Her clothes were torn, her face pale, but her eyes burned fiercely even through exhaustion. She kicked, clawed, fought against the men, her voice hoarse but defiant.
"You can't silence me! You can't bury the truth forever!"
Vihaan nearly leapt from hiding, but the boy grabbed his arm, eyes wide. "No! If they see us now, we're dead."
The Circle members forced Nayra into the center, clamping the chains around her wrists. She struggled, the iron rattling loudly.
The stag–masked leader raised his hands. "Blood seals the passage. Without it, the shadows rise. Her life for our safety."
The chanting grew louder, echoing through the cavern. The torches flared, shadows dancing wildly.
Vihaan's fists clenched. Every part of him screamed to act. To save her.
But how could two unarmed people fight twelve cloaked zealots in their own lair?
He swallowed hard, eyes darting around the cavern, searching desperately for a way.
And then he saw it—above the circle, carved into the rock ceiling, a crack wide enough for water to seep through. Lightning thundered outside. The storm was overhead.
If he could time it… if he could use it…
He turned to the boy. "When I move, cause a distraction. Throw something, shout, anything. Just give me seconds."
The boy's face went pale. "You'll get us killed."
"Or we'll all die anyway," Vihaan whispered.
---
The Choice
The leader drew a blade from beneath his cloak. Its edge glinted in the torchlight. He approached Nayra slowly, his voice steady.
"Her blood will seal the Hollow. And Ramgarh will live another year."
Nayra's eyes burned with fury. "You're cowards! Murderers!"
The chanting rose to a fever pitch.
Vihaan's heart pounded. This was it. His moment to act—or lose her forever.
He crouched low, muscles coiled, ready to spring. The boy's hand trembled on a loose stone, ready to throw.
The blade lifted.
And Vihaan surged forward.