The storm had grown into a raging torrent, beating against the roof of the inn like a thousand fists. The wind howled through the cracks in the old wooden walls, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and pine. Vihaan pressed his back to the wall, shielding Nayra and the boy, while his mind raced. They were trapped, and the Circle was closing in.
The first knock had come hours ago, sharp and deliberate. Three short raps, followed by a pause, then three more. The pattern was almost mocking, a deliberate taunt designed to unsettle anyone inside. Vihaan's instinct had been to wait, to plan, but when the rasping voice whispered, "Open… the door," logic abandoned him. The tone was layered, almost inhuman, as if more than one voice spoke through the same throat.
Nayra clutched his sleeve, trembling violently. "What… what do they want from us?"
"They want fear," Vihaan muttered, scanning the room, eyes darting to every shadow. "They want silence. But more than that… they want you, Nayra."
The boy, still pressed against the door, shook his head. "Once it marks you… you're theirs," he whispered. "It never lets go. Not ever."
Vihaan studied him carefully. Despite his fear, the boy's words carried truth. They had seen the masked figure in the mansion. They had seen how people vanished, how the notebook warned of shadows swallowing lives. Nayra's name was at the end. She was the last.
Another knock came, this time from beneath the floorboards—a slow, deliberate tapping. Nayra screamed, covering her ears, while the boy sank to his knees, mumbling words in a language Vihaan didn't recognize.
"This is it," Vihaan muttered. "We can't stay here. We have to move now."
Nayra's eyes filled with tears. "Where do we go? They'll find us…"
Vihaan gripped her shoulder firmly. "Back to the mansion. That's where this began. That's where it ends."
The boy froze. "No! You can't go back there! None of us will survive!"
Vihaan's jaw tightened. "Then we die here. Or we fight. I choose fight."
The storm seemed to respond, wind screaming, lightning splitting the sky. The inn's wooden walls groaned under the pressure. And then, as if the world held its breath, the knocking ceased. Silence descended, heavy and suffocating.
In that pause, Vihaan felt a presence—something unseen, alive, watching. The air grew colder, thick with tension, and he realized they weren't just being observed. They were being hunted.
He glanced at Nayra. Her lips trembled, tears streaking her cheeks. "Vihaan… I can't…"
"Yes, you can," he interrupted firmly. "We survive because we have to. Not just for us. For everyone they've taken."
The boy pressed his lips together. "The Circle doesn't forgive defiance."
Vihaan's mind flashed back to the notebook—the last pages Nayra had shown him, the fragment that hinted at the old mansion by the cliffs. "Then we defy," he said. "We end this before it ends us."
Nayra swallowed hard, drawing a shaky breath. "I… I'll follow you."
The boy nodded slowly. "I'll go too. I… I have no choice."
Vihaan moved first, checking the back window. The rain had turned the alley into a river of mud, but there was no one in sight. The masked figure was nowhere. Yet Vihaan knew better than to assume they were safe.
He opened the window cautiously, helping Nayra and the boy climb out. The cold air bit into their wet skin, but movement was urgent. Every second spent in the inn brought them closer to discovery.
Outside, the alley stretched toward the forest. Lightning flashed, revealing twisted trees and shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally, almost like grasping fingers. The storm was deafening, but it also masked their movements.
"Keep moving!" Vihaan urged, pushing them forward. Their boots sank into the mud, clothes soaked through, every step a struggle.
They reached a small clearing, momentarily sheltered by overhanging branches. Vihaan crouched, listening. Rain pattered on leaves, but something else—a soft, rhythmic footfall—echoed through the forest.
The boy stiffened. "They're here," he whispered.
Vihaan peered into the darkness. Three cloaked figures emerged from the shadows. Their faces hidden beneath hoods, lanterns glowing pale blue in their hands. The light flickered across their garments, casting grotesque shadows.
Nayra grabbed Vihaan's arm. "Who… who are they?"
"The Circle," Vihaan muttered. The name felt heavier when spoken aloud. "And we're trapped."
The officer from the police station stepped forward from the rain, gun still in hand. He was drenched, but his posture was rigid, almost ceremonial. "I told you to stay alive. I did what I could," he said flatly.
Vihaan's jaw tightened. "You're part of this. Admit it!"
The officer laughed softly, a sound that made the boy flinch. "Part of it? No. I'm the hand that delivers. The shadow that whispers. Every disappearance, every silenced voice… it passed through me. I serve the Circle because survival demands it."
Nayra's face turned pale. "You… you lied. You threatened us."
The officer's eyes glinted. "And yet, here you are. Alive. For now."
The cloaked figures raised their lanterns in unison, the pale flames casting jagged shapes across the clearing. The leader spoke, voice hollow and echoing, "The Circle waits. You were meant to be delivered."
Vihaan's mind raced. The prophecy from the notebook, the vanishings, the symbols—they were not random. Nayra's name was at the end. She was the last.
The boy whispered urgently, "They will take her. They will take you. No one escapes the Circle."
Vihaan drew a deep breath. "Then we fight. We end this tonight."
The officer smiled, cold and sharp. "Your choice. But know this—you are alone. And the Circle does not forgive defiance."
Lightning illuminated the clearing again, revealing the masked figure lurking at the edge of the trees. It was still watching, still waiting.
Nayra's teeth chattered, but she didn't let go of Vihaan's hand. "If we die… we die together," she whispered.
Vihaan nodded, determination hardening. "Together."
The boy stepped forward, small but resolute. "I'll stay with you. Whatever comes."
For a heartbeat, the storm paused, as though the world itself held its breath. Then the wind screamed again, and the Circle moved closer.
Vihaan's mind went back to the past—the disappearances he had seen in Delhi, the stories he had chased as a journalist, the notebook pages that whispered truths no one wanted to hear. He remembered Anaya, Nayra's friend, and her cruel fate. He remembered the first time he had entered the mansion, the cold that had seeped into his bones.
He gritted his teeth. This wasn't just a story. This was survival, defiance, and justice intertwined. They would not vanish into the shadows without a fight.
The masked figure stepped forward, silent and menacing. The officer raised his gun, the pale lantern flames flickering wildly. Rain soaked their faces, but they could see the determination in each other's eyes.
Vihaan's voice was steady, commanding. "Hold onto each other. Whatever comes next, we move as one. Do you understand?"
Nayra nodded, biting her lip. "I understand."
The boy's lips trembled, but he clutched Vihaan's arm tightly. "I understand."
Lightning split the sky again, thunder rolling across the mountains, the forest alive with shadows and whispers. The Circle was here, and the world seemed to tilt into darkness.
Vihaan knew one thing with absolute certainty: this night would decide everything. The Circle, the officer, the prophecy—it all came down to the mansion and the truth hidden within its walls.
The storm roared louder, the rain drowning all other sound. Shadows moved, lanterns flickered, and the masked figure advanced, step by deliberate step. The officer's gun gleamed, ready to fire, but Vihaan's gaze did not waver.
For the first time, he felt the fire of resolve burn brighter than fear. They were no longer just prey—they were hunters.
And the Circle would learn, finally, that defiance had its price—but it was a price they were willing to pay.