"There are truths that do not live in words.
They live in blood, in silence,
and in the way a survivor shakes when forced to remember."
The haveli's main hall smelled of rust and dampness.
The broken chandelier above creaked as though it swayed with their fear.
As though it was dancing to the rhythm of their terror.
They had dragged a heavy wooden table to the center.
Set Yashpal upon it like a man pulled out from drowning.
Like a man who had been underwater and was only now gasping for air.
He sat hunched forward.
Hands trembling in his lap.
His face an unrecognizable mask of dried blood.
Blood that had crusted.
Blood that had darkened.
Blood that belonged to someone else.
Someone—Priya, with a shaking hand—had pressed a brass cup of water into his palm.
He clutched it like it was life itself.
Though he hadn't yet drunk.
Couldn't drink.
Wouldn't drink.
Like drinking would require him to accept that he was still alive.
That he had survived.
That he was real.
Saanvi crouched by him.
Whispering gently:
"It's alright."
"You're safe now."
"Just breathe, Yashpal."
"Just breathe."
But he wasn't safe.
They all knew it.
Safety didn't exist here.
Safety had never existed here.
It was a fiction they'd been telling themselves.
A story that had always been a lie.
Rohit paced like a caged animal.
Muttering under his breath.
His words unintelligible but his meaning clear:
Denial.
Refusal.
The desperate need for this to not be true.
Meghna sat rigid on the far side.
Arms crossed so tightly her knuckles blanched.
Her face carved from stone.
Her eyes fixed on nothing.
On everything.
On the truth she was trying not to see.
Priya hovered with her camera clutched uselessly against her chest.
The device that had documented everything.
That had captured all the horrors.
Now felt worthless.
Now felt like a lie.
Like documentation couldn't save them.
Like images couldn't prove they had survived.
And Diya sat apart.
Her locket pressed to her lips.
Eyes on Yashpal.
Not pitying.
Not forgiving.
But studying.
Analyzing.
Waiting for the inevitable words.
Waiting for him to say what she already knew.
Abhay was the one to steady the room.
His voice cut through the restless shifting like a blade.
"Yashpal."
"We need to know."
"What happened out there?"
At first, nothing.
Yashpal's breath rattled in his throat.
His fingers clenched so tight around the cup that water spilled over the rim.
Dripping down his wrist like a fresh wound.
Like blood.
Like he was bleeding from the inside out.
Then, with a voice that cracked and stumbled like broken glass:
"I tried to follow him."
Everyone froze.
The statement landed like a stone.
Like an accusation.
Yashpal's eyes were wide.
Darting from shadow to shadow.
As though something unseen still hunted him.
Still tracked him.
Still wanted him back.
"Kabir was angry."
"Said he didn't need us."
"He left… just left."
"I didn't want him to go alone."
The group exchanged glances.
Even in their bitterness, none of them had wanted this.
None of them had wanted Kabir dead.
"I ran after him," Yashpal whispered.
His voice growing smaller.
"The trees… they weren't right."
"They bent, moved…"
"I don't know."
"Kabir was calling me names, laughing, saying I was scared."
His voice cracked here, fractured under the weight of memory.
"Then…"
His voice trailed into nothing.
He raised the cup to his lips.
But most of the water spilled down his chin.
His whole body shook.
Vibrated with something that wasn't entirely physical.
"What then?" Rohit barked.
Unable to stop himself.
Unable to contain the desperation in his voice.
Abhay shot him a glare.
Silencing him with a look.
Yashpal's voice dropped lower.
Trembling like a thing barely held together.
"Something…"
"Something came."
The words bled into the air.
Heavy.
Cold.
Like they were draining the warmth from the room.
"It wasn't an animal."
"It wasn't a man."
"It was—"
He stopped, choking.
His eyes glistened.
But no tears fell.
Only raw terror.
Raw knowledge.
Raw memory that was too fresh to have healed.
"It had too many arms."
"Or shadows that looked like arms."
"It moved wrong, like it was walking on the inside of its body."
"Like the spaces between reality were where it lived."
Meghna's hand flew to her mouth.
Priya shook her head violently.
"No."
"No, stop—"
But Yashpal continued.
Unable to stop.
The words pouring out like poison from a wound that wouldn't close.
"Kabir saw it."
"He laughed at first."
"Then… it grabbed him."
"Just…"
"Just pulled him."
"Not away."
"Not into the forest."
"Into itself."
His voice cracked like a snapped bone.
"I swear to you, he screamed and the sound didn't leave his mouth—it stayed in the air, hanging, like the trees swallowed it."
Saanvi whimpered.
A small sound.
A broken sound.
Rohit whispered:
"That's not possible."
"That's not—"
But Yashpal wasn't finished.
His hands clawed at his hair.
Leaving streaks of blood.
Fresh blood.
Blood that was still wet.
Still warm.
"I tried."
"I swear I tried to pull him back."
"I grabbed his arm."
"But… but his skin—"
He gagged.
Nearly retching.
"It came off in my hand."
"Like wet paper."
"Like his body was already coming apart."
"Like he was already dissolving."
"His face… oh God, his face…"
The group recoiled.
Even Abhay's mask cracked.
His jaw tight.
His eyes burning with unease.
With something that looked like recognition.
Like he'd seen this before.
Or always known this was coming.
"I ran," Yashpal confessed.
His voice breaking completely now.
Shattering under the weight of guilt.
"I didn't mean to."
"I wanted to stay, I wanted to fight, but I—"
His chest heaved.
"It was already inside him."
"Kabir wasn't Kabir anymore."
"His eyes…"
"They were red."
"Not blood."
"Light."
"Like the forest itself was looking out of him."
"Like something had taken his body and was wearing it."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Thick.
Absolute.
Like the air itself had stopped moving.
Meghna whispered:
"You're lying."
"You have to be lying."
But Yashpal slammed the cup down.
Water splashing across the table.
His voice rose.
Ragged.
Desperate.
Furious.
"Do you think I want this?"
"Do you think I want to see him every time I close my eyes?"
"Do you think I enjoy carrying this?"
The words silenced them all.
Abhay spoke softly but firmly.
His voice cutting through like a blade.
"Then where's the body, Yashpal?"
"If what you say is true, where is he?"
Yashpal's shoulders collapsed inward.
He shook his head slowly.
Eyes glassy.
Lips quivering.
"There is no body."
"There is nothing left."
"Kabir…"
"Kabir is the forest now."
The words struck harder than any scream.
Struck like a physical blow.
Like a truth that couldn't be denied.
Couldn't be refuted.
Couldn't be taken back.
Saanvi began to sob quietly.
Small, broken sounds.
The sound of someone's world ending.
Rohit muttered curses.
Pacing faster.
Like movement could outrun the reality that was catching up.
Priya pressed her camera against her chest.
Like it could shield her.
Like equipment could protect against the impossible.
Meghna shook her head again and again.
Whispering:
"No."
"No, no, no."
But Diya didn't cry.
She didn't shake.
She didn't break.
She only whispered.
So soft that most didn't hear:
"I knew it."
"I knew it from the start."
The others turned.
Startled.
But her eyes remained locked on Yashpal.
Sharp.
Knowing.
Almost accusing.
As if she'd always known this was how it would end.
As if she'd been waiting for this moment.
Waiting for the truth to finally arrive.
The lantern sputtered.
Shadows crawling along the walls.
Alive.
Moving with intention.
The haveli groaned like something alive.
Like it was digesting what it had been fed.
For the first time, the group understood:
Bhairavpur wasn't just a haunted village.
It consumed.
It took what it wanted.
It unmade people.
And Kabir hadn't simply died.
He had been taken.
Had been absorbed.
Had become part of the village itself.
Part of the forest.
Part of something that existed in the spaces between reality and nightmare.
And if Kabir could be taken, if Kabir could be consumed—
Then any of them could be next.
Any of them could feel the touch of that thing.
Any of them could feel their skin start to dissolve like wet paper.
Any of them could become part of Bhairavpur.
"The worst truths are not the ones we don't believe.
They are the ones we believe
but cannot live with."