The bus groaned to a halt in front of the imposing, vine-choked gates of the Rana Palace. As students filed out, buzzing with a mix of excitement and trepidation, Kiara misjudged the high step. Her foot slipped, and she stumbled forward with a gasp.
A strong hand shot out, catching her wrist in a firm grip. Yuvaan pulled, not just steadying her, but drawing her abruptly close. For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them. Her wide, startled eyes locked with his dark, amused ones. She could feel the solid warmth of his chest and the faint, tantalizing scent of his cologne.
"Careful, partner," he murmured, his voice a low thrum. "The ruins are eager to claim you."
From a few feet away, a teasing voice cut through the moment. "Lalalala!" Angad sang, waggling his eyebrows at them while Mishka watched with a quiet, knowing smile.
Flustered, Kiara pushed herself away from Yuvaan just as Professor Ragini clapped her hands for attention.
"Everyone, follow me!" Ragini led them through the crumbling archway into the main courtyard. She began her tale, her voice echoing ominously in the desolate space. "This is the story of a slave maiden who, driven by revenge, married into the royal family. On her wedding night, she slit her husband's throat and poisoned the entire dynasty. When her treachery was discovered, she took her own life. With no heir and the modern world moving on, the palace was left to decay."
Kiara, ever the pragmatist, frowned. "But why hasn't anyone bought this place? It has such potential. It could be renovated into a beautiful heritage hotel or resort."
A cold smile touched Ragini's lips. "Don't panic everyone, but this place is widely believed to be haunted. That is why it has primarily become a site for... mythological studies." Her eyes briefly flickered to Kiara, challenging her.
Kiara crossed her arms. "Ghosts aren't real. They're just stories to explain the unknown."
"Are they?" Ragini's tone was deceptively light. She then dispatched the pairs to explore, instructing them to return with a detailed report on their discoveries.
As the groups scattered, Yuvaan fell into step beside Kiara. "So stubborn," he teased. "What if spirits do exist? Vengeful ones, trapped between worlds, longing for justice... or revenge?"
Kiara shot him an exasperated look. "I only believe what I see. And in my twenty-one years, I have never, ever seen a ghost. They are a myth."
---
Meanwhile, in a dusty antechamber, Angad and Mishka explored. The air was thick with silence and dust.
"Aren't you scared?" Mishka asked, her voice soft.
"Me? Scared? Pfft. No way," Angad puffed out his chest, though his eyes darted nervously at every shadow. "This is just an old, empty building."
As he spoke, Mishka's braid, hidden by her back, subtly uncoiled like a serpent. It slithered up a nearby shelf, tipped a small, ancient vase, and retracted back to its normal state in a blink.
The vase shattered on the stone floor with a loud crash.
"YAAAH!" Angad yelped, jumping a foot in the air and immediately ducking behind Mishka, clutching her shoulders. "What was that?!"
Mishka couldn't contain her laughter, the sound echoing brightly in the gloomy room. "It was just a vase, you brave, brave man."
Angad peeked out from behind her, his face flushed with embarrassment and relief, completely unaware of the true cause of the "accident."
Kiara's flashlight beam cut a solitary path through the oppressive gloom of the chamber, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stale air. It landed on a large, faded portrait hanging crooked on the wall—a stern-looking king and a beautiful, sharp-faced queen, her eyes seeming to hold a secret malice even through the layers of grime.
"It's strange, isn't it?" Kiara mused aloud, her voice echoing slightly in the empty space. "The world has civilized so much, science has explained almost everything. But people's mythological beliefs… they just don't evolve." She shook her head, gesturing at the portrait. "I'm sure these two are just dust and bones, resting peacefully in their graves wherever they are. But no, people would rather believe their spirits are here, haunting these empty halls."
She waited for a sarcastic retort, a teasing agreement, anything. Silence.
Frowning, she turned around. "Yuvaan? What do you think—"
The chamber was empty. He was gone.
A sliver of cold unease, sharper than the draft in the room, traced its way down her spine. "Yuvaan?" she called out, her voice firmer now. "This isn't funny. Where are you?"
Only the silence answered, feeling heavier, more watchful.
Suddenly, a firm tap landed on her shoulder.
Gasping, she spun around, her heart leaping into her throat.
"Boom."
Yuvaan stood there, a wicked grin plastered on his face, clearly delighted by his successful prank.
The startled jump, combined with the smooth, dusty floor, betrayed her. Her feet slipped from under her. With a yelp, she flailed, her hands instinctively grabbing the front of his shirt to steady herself. But his own balance was compromised by his leaning-in gesture, and her pull was just enough.
He tumbled forward, and they fell together in a tangle of limbs. He landed on top of her, his body cushioning her fall against the cold stone floor. Her flashlight clattered away, casting wild, spinning shadows around them.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. The dust settled around them. Kiara was pinned beneath him, her wide eyes staring up into his, which now held a look of surprise that quickly morphed back into a familiar, dark amusement.
"Well," he said, his voice a low murmur in the intimate space between their faces. "If you wanted me this close, all you had to do was ask."