Back in the damp, underground chamber, a sense of urgency began to gnaw at Kiara. "Yuvaan, we need to find a way out. Now. The others will be worried sick about us!"
In stark contrast to her panic, Yuvaan remained seated on a dusty, overturned crate, the picture of calm indifference. He watched her with an unreadable expression.
"Why are you just sitting there?" Kiara demanded, her voice echoing in the confined space. "Aren't you going to help me look for a way out?"
A lie came to him as easily as breathing. "I already have. There isn't one," he stated flatly. "The only exit is the one we came through." He pointed upward to the hole, now looking impossibly high and out of reach.
Refusing to believe him, Kiara began shouting, her voice straining with effort. "Help! Someone! We're stuck down here! Help us!"
Only silence answered her pleas. Spotting a rickety, wooden stool in a corner, she dragged it beneath the hole. Climbing precariously onto it, she stretched her arms upward, her fingertips brushing nothing but air. The hole was still far beyond her grasp. As she strained, the stool wobbled violently. With a gasp, she lost her balance and fell.
But instead of meeting the hard, cold ground, she landed squarely in Yuvaan's waiting arms. He had moved with preternatural speed to catch her. For a moment, he held her close, her heart hammering against his chest, before gently setting her back on her feet.
---
Meanwhile, the bus pulled into the college parking lot. Students spilled out, chattering with relief. The illusionary versions of Yuvaan and Kiara lingered at the back.
"Oh, we forgot our project notes in the lecture hall! We'll catch up later," the fake Kiara announced to anyone listening.
The fake Yuvaan simply nodded. The two duplicates then quickly slipped around a corner, out of sight. The moment they were alone, their forms flickered like a bad signal and dissolved into nothingness, leaving no trace behind.
From across the parking lot, Mishka stood by her car, her keen eyes missing nothing. She had watched the entire performance—the flimsy excuse, the retreat, and the final, silent dissipation of the glamour. A knowing, grim look settled on her face. The trap had been sprung, and the pawns were right where the queen wanted them.
---
The faint light from the hole above began to soften, casting long, distorted shadows across the chamber. A cold knot of dread tightened in Kiara's stomach. She pulled out her phone, her thumb swiping frantically to check the time.
"It's almost dark," she whispered, the reality of their situation crashing down on her.
Her next move was pure instinct. She opened her contacts and hit dial on Varun's number. The call failed to connect. A red 'X' appeared over the signal bar. No service.
"No, no, no…" she muttered, trying Vikram next. Same result. Then Anya. Each failed call amplified her panic.
"They're not going through! There's no signal!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch. She looked wildly from her phone to the distant hole. "What if everyone left? What if the bus left without us? We're stuck here! No one knows we're here!"
Her breath started coming in short, sharp gasps. The walls seemed to press in closer, the air growing thinner. This wasn't an adventure anymore; it was a nightmare.
And through it all, Yuvaan remained seated on the crate, his posture relaxed, his expression one of detached observation. He watched her frantic movements as if studying a mildly interesting specimen.
His utter calm in the face of her escalating terror was the final straw.
"How can you just sit there?" she burst out, her agitation turning to fury. She gestured wildly at their surroundings. "We are trapped in a haunted ruin, it's getting dark, we have no way to call for help, and you look like you're waiting for a latte! Don't you care? Aren't you even a little bit scared?!"
Her voice echoed in the silent chamber, the question hanging in the dusty air between them—a desperate plea for shared fear, for any sign that he was as human and as vulnerable as she was in this terrifying situation.
Yuvaan's voice cut through her panic, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade. "Did you just use the word 'haunted'?" A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face. "Gal, I'm shocked. I thought you didn't believe in ghosts. Weren't they just 'mythical stories for the weak-minded'?"
Kiara flushed, crossing her arms defensively. "I don't believe in ghosts," she insisted, her voice tight. "I believe in wild animals, or... or structural collapse! There are real, logical dangers here!"
"Of course," Yuvaan replied, his tone dripping with mock agreement. He leaned back, the picture of nonchalance. "But to answer your earlier question… why should I panic? I already know there isn't a way out. Panic is for those who still have hope."
He paused, letting the grim reality settle in the dusty air before continuing, his voice taking on a theatrical, ominous quality. "So, let's consider our options, shall we? If no one finds us… and let's be honest, why would they? We could die of suffocation in this stale air. Or perhaps slowly, from dehydration. That's a nasty way to go. My personal bet? We'll just waste away from hunger. A slow, quiet end in the dark."
His words were a deliberate poison, each one designed to feed her fear. Kiara's eyes widened, her breath catching. Frantically, she looked back at her phone, its screen a futile beacon in the gloom. She opened her messaging app, her thumbs flying over the screen.
Kiara: TRAPPED AT RANA PALACE. IN BASEMENT. SEND HELP.
She hit send. The message icon spun, and spun, and then displayed a painful, single red exclamation mark. Not Delivered.
The last flicker of hope in her eyes extinguished, replaced by the cold, hard glint of pure terror. They were truly, completely alone.