The sound of the bus engine hummed like a tired heartbeat, echoing through the quiet dawn.
A cool fog hugged the road, hiding the trees on either side as the school bus rolled toward the ferry dock.
Seventeen-year-old Aryan Malhotra pressed his forehead against the window. The glass was cold, and the world outside looked pale and ghostly. He liked that — the silence before adventure.
"Still pretending to be mysterious, huh?" Riya Sharma, his best friend, smirked from the seat beside him.
Aryan smiled faintly. "It's called mental preparation. You wouldn't understand."
"Right. You're preparing for ghosts now?" she teased, taking out her phone and snapping a picture of his serious face.
Behind them, chaos reigned.
Kabir Mehta, the loudest in the class, was already starting a mock rap battle with Tanish Verma, the tech nerd who insisted that his phone could detect "paranormal frequencies."
"Bro, this app says there's a ghost in seat number 12!" Tanish announced.
Riya rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's called your personality."
Their teacher, Mrs. D'Souza, clapped her hands from the front seat.
"Settle down, everyone! We're almost at the dock. Remember, we're representing the school, not a circus!"
The bus erupted in laughter anyway.
Aryan barely noticed.
Out the window, he thought he saw a shadow move across the road — a small figure, like a child, standing still in the fog. But when he blinked, it was gone.
"Everything okay?" Riya asked.
"Yeah," Aryan murmured. "Just… thought I saw something."
The bus slowed as the Devraj Island Ferry came into view. It was old, iron-gray, and creaked as the wind brushed against it.
A weathered sign read:
WELCOME TO DEVRAJ ISLAND — WHERE HISTORY STILL LIVES.
The group piled out, stretching, yawning, laughing.
Meena Joshi, shy and artistic, clutched her sketchbook tightly.
"Are you going to draw the island?" Aryan asked her.
She nodded. "Sometimes places tell you stories before people do."
Aryan liked that answer.
The ferry ride was calm but eerie.
The ocean stretched endlessly, flat and gray, until it merged with the mist.
Mr. Harish, the bus driver, stood near the railing, smoking quietly. "This place has old blood," he muttered when Aryan approached him.
"Excuse me?" Aryan asked.
"Accidents. Experiments. People who never left," Harish said. Then he smiled oddly. "But don't worry. The mansion's waiting."
Aryan frowned. "You've been here before?"
Harish didn't reply — just flicked his cigarette into the sea and walked away.
Riya appeared beside Aryan. "What was that about?"
"Just creepy old man stuff," Aryan replied, forcing a laugh.
The laughter felt thin.
By the time they reached the island, the sun was already sinking.
A thick forest surrounded the dock, and beyond it, on a small hill, stood the Devraj Mansion — tall, decaying, with blackened windows that looked like hollow eyes.
A woman in a pale sari waited for them near the path. Her hair was tied back neatly, and her expression was unreadable.
"I am Aarya," she said softly. "Caretaker of this property. You must be from the school."
"Yes," Mrs. D'Souza replied, trying to sound cheerful. "We'll just stay one night before moving to the guest lodges tomorrow."
Aarya's gaze lingered on Aryan. "The nights here are longer than they seem," she whispered.
Riya nudged Aryan. "Well, that's comforting."
He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the mansion, where for a brief second, he thought he saw a curtain move — though no one had entered yet.
Inside, the air was stale and heavy.
Wooden floors creaked with every step. Portraits hung crooked on the walls — faces with eyes that seemed to follow them.
Tanish recorded everything with his phone, narrating like a YouTuber.
"Welcome to Ghost Trek India, episode one! We're exploring the haunted Devraj Mansion. If I die, please subscribe."
The group laughed — until a door somewhere upstairs slammed shut.
Everyone froze.
Mrs. D'Souza chuckled nervously. "Old houses make noise, children. Nothing to worry about."
But Aryan noticed something strange — the mirror in the hall was cracked, as though someone had punched it from the inside.
He reached out.
For a heartbeat, he thought he saw his reflection blink after him, out of sync.
Riya's voice broke the silence. "Okay, horror movie rules — no one goes anywhere alone."
Kabir grinned. "Then I'm with Riya."
"Dream on," she shot back.
Laughter returned briefly, the sound echoing too loudly in the empty mansion.
As night fell, they lit candles. The house groaned like it was breathing.
Outside, waves crashed against the rocks, and from the forest, came a faint whisper — something between a laugh and a sigh.
Aryan looked out through the dusty window toward the dark sea.
For a moment, he saw a small shadow standing near the trees — the same childlike figure from the road.
He blinked. Gone again.
The first night had begun.
And the mansion had started to wake.