The attic went silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence—
but the kind that squeezes your lungs
and tells you you're no longer alone.
Riyan moved first.
He stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body, his hand subtly reaching behind to find mine.
I didn't let go.
The faint creak of a floorboard echoed from the staircase.
Someone was coming up.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like they wanted us to hear.
Riyan's jaw tightened.
"Stay behind me," he whispered.
I nodded, my heartbeat banging against my ribs so loudly I was sure the intruder could hear it.
Another step.
Another creak.
Then—
A shadow appeared at the top of the stairs.
Not short.
Not tall.
Just enough to look like a silhouette carved from the darkness.
My breath hitched painfully.
Riyan stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding:
"Stop right there!"
The shadow froze.
For a moment, no one breathed.
Then the person stepped into the lantern light—
slowly, cautiously, like a ghost coming alive.
My blood went cold.
It was a man.
Dressed in dark clothes.
A hood pulled low over his head.
Face partially hidden, but his jawline was visible.
Strong.
Sharp.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Riyan's eyes narrowed.
"Take off the hood," he demanded.
The man didn't move.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly…
as if studying me.
My heart slammed painfully.
Why was he looking at me?
Riyan stepped forward, voice low and dangerous.
"I'm not asking again."
The man finally raised his hands—
But instead of removing his hood, he flicked something onto the floor.
A small black device.
It bounced once—
twice—
then beeped.
Riyan reacted instantly.
"Get back!" he shouted, grabbing me and pulling me behind a stack of old trunks.
The device released a burst of thick, white smoke, flooding the attic in seconds.
I coughed, eyes burning, unable to see anything.
"Riyan!" I choked.
His hand tightened around my arm.
"I'm here. Don't let go."
The smoke thickened, swirling like a storm.
A faint footstep sounded—
behind us.
Riyan pulled me closer.
Another footstep.
This time to the left.
He turned, trying to track the movement.
But the smoke turned everything into a blur.
Then—
A hand grabbed my wrist.
Hard.
My heart exploded with terror.
"Riyan—!"
In one brutal motion, I was yanked forward.
But before the intruder could pull me away—
Riyan lunged blindly into the smoke.
His arm wrapped around my waist, dragging me back.
The intruder's grip slipped.
A soft groan echoed—like the man hadn't expected Riyan to react that fast.
Footsteps darted toward the staircase.
Riyan moved to chase, but I grabbed him, coughing.
"No—don't go alone—!"
He stopped.
Because the smoke was clearing.
And at the top of the staircase…
The intruder stood still.
Watching us.
His hood slipped just enough for me to see his eyes.
Dark.
Cold.
And terrifyingly familiar.
My breath froze.
No.
No, this couldn't be—
Riyan stiffened beside me.
He saw it too.
"Who are you?" he demanded, voice trembling with anger.
The intruder did something unexpected.
He spoke.
Not loudly.
Not clearly.
Just one word—
Soft.
Broken.
Impossible.
"Sorry."
The attic went deathly still.
Riyan paled.
"Say that again," he whispered.
But the intruder didn't repeat it.
Instead, he stepped backward into the darkness of the staircase—
and vanished.
Riyan ran to the stairs.
He looked down—
but the passage was empty.
No footsteps.
No sound.
No trace.
Gone.
Like he had never been there.
Except—
Riyan wasn't breathing normally.
He stood frozen, gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping him standing.
I touched his arm gently.
"Riyan… what's wrong?"
He didn't answer at first.
His chest rose and fell sharply.
His voice came out trembling, broken, stunned:
"Aarvi…"
He swallowed.
"That voice…"
My heart pounded painfully.
He turned to me, eyes wide—
full of fear
and disbelief
and an impossible hope.
"That voice," he whispered again, "sounded exactly like…"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Or maybe he didn't dare.
But I did.
My voice cracked as I whispered:
"Arjun?"
He closed his eyes tightly—
as if the name itself hurt to hear.
And when he opened them again…
They were filled with something terrifying:
The fear that his brother might not be dead.