"Some visitors leave behind more than footprints.
They leave behind hunger.
And hunger, once awakened, demands to be fed."
Morning broke wrong.
The light came from below instead of above.
Like the sun was rising from beneath the earth.
Like Bhairavpur had turned itself inside out.
No one commented on it.
Commenting required acknowledgment.
Acknowledgment required acceptance that reality was no longer negotiable.
Rohit woke first.
His hand immediately reaching for Meghna.
Finding her still beside him.
Still breathing.
Still present.
These small verifications had become ritual.
Had become the only prayers that meant anything.
Priya and Saanvi were already awake.
They sat by the window.
Priya's camera on her lap.
But she wasn't filming.
She was just holding it.
Like holding something familiar could anchor her to who she'd been before.
Abhay sat motionless.
He'd been in the same position all night.
Or perhaps all day.
Or perhaps he'd never moved at all and they were simply remembering him as moving.
Diya was gone.
Not visibly absent.
Just occupying a corner of space that the others' eyes kept sliding past.
Like her presence required conscious effort to acknowledge.
Like she was becoming translucent in a different way than Yashpal had.
"There's someone outside," Meghna said quietly.
They all turned toward the window.
A figure stood in the courtyard.
Alone.
But not lonely.
There was a completeness to his solitude.
A certainty.
It was Marcus.
Or what looked like Marcus.
But he'd changed.
His skin had taken on a pearlescent quality.
His movements were fluid in ways that suggested joints that worked differently.
His smile was too wide.
And his eyes—his eyes held the light of something that wasn't quite human anymore.
"He's here," Rohit said.
His hand moving to the knife at his belt.
But Abhay raised a hand.
"Wait," he said.
"Let's hear what he has to say."
"He's not Marcus anymore," Priya whispered.
But she was already moving toward the door.
Saanvi followed.
Unable not to follow.
The pull was too strong.
The curiosity too overwhelming.
Rohit and Meghna exchanged looks.
Then they too moved toward the door.
Only Abhay remained still.
Watching from inside.
Watching Diya, who remained in her corner.
Unchanged.
Waiting.
The Courtyard.
The thing wearing Marcus's face stood perfectly still.
Its chest rising and falling in patterns that didn't match human breathing.
Too regular.
Too calculated.
Like it was operating machinery rather than lungs.
"I've come to deliver a message," it said.
Its voice Marcus's but layered with other voices beneath.
"From the village."
"From those of us who have already transitioned."
"From Yashpal."
"From Kabir."
"From all the ones who came before."
Rohit stepped forward.
"What do you want?"
The thing's head tilted.
An inhuman angle.
"To show you what comes next."
It reached into its chest.
Not tearing cloth.
But opening itself like a door.
Inside was light.
Pure and white and absolutely terrible.
Inside were images.
Flashing.
Fragmentary.
Showing them things they shouldn't have been able to see.
Showing them versions of themselves.
Versions where they'd made different choices.
Versions where they'd escaped.
Versions where they'd stayed.
Versions where they'd transformed.
All happening simultaneously.
All existing at once.
Meghna's knees buckled.
Rohit caught her.
His arm around her waist.
Holding her up.
Holding her together.
"Stop it," Priya gasped.
But the thing didn't stop.
It continued opening.
Revealing layer after layer of impossible light.
Showing them futures that were also pasts.
Showing them deaths that were also births.
Showing them the circular nature of Bhairavpur.
The way it consumed and regurgitated.
The way it created and destroyed.
The way it existed outside of time.
"This is what you will become," the thing said.
"All of you."
"You will join us in the walls."
"You will distribute your consciousness across the village."
"You will remember everything."
"And you will forget who you were."
"But before that—"
It looked directly at Rohit.
"There is one more death."
"One more transition."
"One more gift the village offers."
Rohit felt Meghna's grip tighten on his arm.
He knew.
With absolute certainty, he knew.
She was next.
Meghna was next.
The thing stepped forward.
Moving with that fluid, impossible grace.
Its mouth opening wider than it should have been able to.
And something emerged.
A hand.
Made of light and shadow and something that predated language.
It reached toward Meghna.
And Rohit moved.
He didn't think.
He simply acted.
He pulled the knife from his belt and drove it toward the thing.
It passed through without resistance.
Through light.
Through the substance of something that was barely present in this reality.
The thing's form shattered.
But it didn't die.
It simply redistributed.
Became fragments of light that scattered across the courtyard.
Each fragment taking on shape.
Each one becoming Marcus.
Dozens of Marcuses.
All identical.
All smiling with that too-wide smile.
"Time," they said in unison.
"It's running out."
"Level two is progressing."
"Deaths accelerating."
"The grid is loading."
Then they were gone.
Simply ceased to exist.
Like they'd been erased from reality retroactively.
Inside the Haveli.
Meghna collapsed onto a bench.
Her body shaking.
Not from fear.
But from something else.
Something she could feel beginning inside her.
Something that felt like Yashpal's transformation.
But different.
More aware.
More willing.
"It's starting," she said quietly.
"I can feel it."
Rohit knelt in front of her.
"No," he said.
"No, we'll stop it."
"We'll find a way—"
"There is no way," Meghna interrupted.
Her voice steady despite the fear.
"I've known since I saw Yashpal's hands change."
"I've been watching it happen to others."
"I've been waiting for it to happen to me."
She reached out and touched Rohit's face.
"At least I got this," she said softly.
"At least I got you."
"Before—"
She didn't finish.
Didn't need to.
Before was no longer relevant.
Only now mattered.
Only this moment.
Only the choice to remain human while you still could.
Priya and Saanvi stood frozen.
Their hands finding each other.
Holding.
Like holding could prevent the inevitable.
Like love could stop transformation.
Like connection could defy the village's logic.
Abhay appeared in the doorway.
He'd been watching the entire exchange.
"She has less than twenty-four hours," he said.
His voice carrying no emotion.
"The village accelerates the process once it decides."
"Once it marks you."
"Can we do anything?" Rohit demanded.
His voice cracking.
"Anything at all?"
Abhay was silent for a long moment.
Then: "Yes."
"There's one thing."
"What?" Meghna asked.
But she already knew.
She could feel it in the way Abhay was looking at her.
The way he was looking at all of them.
"You can join the village willingly," he said.
"Instead of being taken."
"You can transition on your own terms."
"Instead of having it done to you."
"It will hurt less."
"You'll have more control."
"You'll remember more of who you were."
Rohit's hands clenched.
"That's not a choice."
"No," Abhay agreed.
"It's the only mercy available."
The Spiral Grows.
That night, more spirals appeared on the haveli's walls.
Dozens of them.
Hundreds perhaps.
Carved deep.
Pulsing with that faint luminescence.
Like they were breathing.
Like they were alive.
Meghna sat in the center of the main hall.
Watching her own hands as they began to change.
The skin becoming translucent.
The bones becoming light.
The process slower than Yashpal's had been.
But more aware.
More conscious.
She could feel herself becoming something else.
Could feel the expansion of her consciousness.
Could feel the boundaries of her individuality beginning to dissolve.
Rohit sat beside her.
They didn't speak.
Speaking would only make it harder.
Would only introduce words into something that existed beyond language.
Around 3 a.m., Meghna whispered:
"When I'm gone—"
"Don't," Rohit said.
"When I'm gone, tell them I chose this."
"Tell them it wasn't torture."
"It was transcendence."
Rohit's hand found hers.
One last moment of human connection.
One last gesture of love in a place where love was becoming obsolete.
By dawn, Meghna was gone.
Not dead.
Not escaped.
Simply transformed.
Her body remained for a moment.
A shell.
A record.
Then it dissolved.
Became part of the stone.
Became part of the walls.
Became part of Bhairavpur itself.
And the spirals glowed brighter.
Like the village had fed.
Like it had consumed another piece of humanity and was stronger for it.
Rohit sat alone in the center of the main hall.
His hand still extended.
Holding nothing.
Holding the memory of something that no longer existed in this form.
Priya and Saanvi held each other.
Crying silently.
Understanding that they would be next.
Understanding that the village was patient.
But its patience was finite.
And they were running out of time.
Abhay watched from the window.
His expression unreadable.
Diya sat in her corner.
Watching Rohit.
Watching him grieve.
Watching him learn what she had already known:
That love in Bhairavpur was measured not in years or moments.
But in the space between remaining human and becoming something else.
And that space was getting smaller.
Every day.
Every death.
Every transformation.
Getting smaller until there was nothing left but the village.
And those it had chosen to keep.
"Level two teaches sacrifice.
The village teaches it by taking those you love.
And when they're gone, you have nothing left to lose.
Except yourself."