The garden no longer felt like a place.
It felt like a mouth.
Open. Waiting.
The fog had thickened after Sibom's scream. It rolled low across the ground, coiling around their ankles like something alive. Manoj could barely see the broken iron gate behind them anymore.
They were too deep inside now.
Too far.
"Don't spread out," Manoj said, voice shaking despite his effort to sound firm.
Dustu stood closest to him. Not because he was brave. Because he was terrified of being alone.
Sayantika's eyes were fixed on the ground.
The footprints were still there.
But now there were more.
Not just one set.
Not five either.
Anirban crouched slowly. "These… weren't here before."
They weren't human.
They were longer. Narrower. The toes too thin. Too many.
And they circled them.
A slow ring in the mud.
Like something had walked around them while they were arguing.
While they were breathing.
Watching.
---
"Okay," Sibom whispered. "This isn't funny anymore."
"No one's laughing," Sayantika snapped.
But her voice cracked.
A wind moved through the trees. No leaves rustled. No branches swayed.
Only the sound.
Like someone whispering inside a bottle.
Distorted.
Broken.
Manoj felt it in his chest more than heard it.
"Did you hear that?" Dustu said.
"Yes."
"No."
"Shut up," Anirban hissed.
The whisper grew louder.
Then stopped.
Suddenly.
Like it realized they were listening.
---
They moved forward again.
Not because they wanted to.
Because standing still felt worse.
The deeper section of the garden had changed.
The trees grew taller here. Twisted. Their trunks curved inward as if bending toward the center of something.
The ground dipped.
A natural hollow.
And in the middle—
A structure.
Old.
Collapsed.
Half buried in soil and roots.
Manoj swallowed.
"That wasn't here before."
"It was," Sayantika said softly. "We just never came this far."
The structure looked like a small shrine.
Stone walls cracked open. Moss-covered steps sinking into mud.
And on the broken front slab—
A symbol.
Carved deep.
Anirban stepped closer, brushing dirt away.
His breath caught.
"It's not religious."
It wasn't any symbol they recognized.
It was circular.
Something inside something.
Like an eye.
But wrong.
The longer they looked, the more it felt like the symbol was looking back.
---
Dustu stumbled backward suddenly.
"I saw something move."
"Where?" Manoj demanded.
"There."
He pointed toward the tree line.
For a second—
Nothing.
Then—
A shadow slipped behind a trunk.
Too fast.
Too smooth.
"Someone's here," Sibom whispered.
"No," Sayantika said.
Her voice dropped lower.
"Something."
---
The air temperature shifted.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Cold enough to bite.
Their breath fogged in front of them.
Anirban stood up slowly.
"There are records," he said suddenly.
"What?" Manoj asked.
"About this place. My grandfather mentioned it once. A long time ago."
"Why didn't you say that before?" Sibom snapped.
"Because I didn't think it mattered."
He stared at the broken shrine.
"They said this garden didn't belong to Manoj's family originally."
Manoj's head turned sharply.
"What?"
"It belonged to someone else. A man who… disappeared."
The whispering returned.
Closer now.
Almost forming words.
"…stay…"
"…mine…"
"…below…"
Sayantika covered her ears.
"It's inside my head."
"No," Dustu whispered.
"It's outside."
---
A branch cracked behind them.
They spun around.
Nothing.
Then—
Footsteps.
Running.
Not toward them.
Around them.
Circling again.
Fast.
So fast the fog twisted in its wake.
Sibom panicked first.
"I'm not staying here!"
He bolted.
Straight toward the tree line.
"Sibom!" Manoj shouted.
But Sibom was already gone.
The fog swallowed him whole.
---
For half a second—
Silence.
Then—
A scream.
Not distant.
Not fading.
Right beside them.
Sibom crashed back through the fog and fell hard into the mud.
Something had grabbed his jacket.
The fabric was torn.
Deep scratch marks carved through it.
But there was nothing behind him.
Nothing visible.
"I didn't see it," Sibom gasped. "It was right there. Right in front of me. But I couldn't see it."
Manoj helped him up.
"Did it touch you?"
Sibom hesitated.
Then slowly shook his head.
"No."
A pause.
"Not skin."
---
The symbol on the shrine began to darken.
Moisture gathered inside the carved lines.
But it wasn't water.
It was thicker.
Darker.
Seeping outward.
Sayantika stepped back slowly.
"It's reacting to us."
"No," Anirban whispered.
"It's reacting to him."
Everyone turned.
To Manoj.
The wind stopped.
The whispers stopped.
The garden held its breath.
Manoj felt pressure behind his eyes.
Like something pressing from inside his skull.
The symbol glowed faintly.
Just for a second.
Then—
The ground beneath the shrine cracked.
A thin line splitting open.
From the symbol outward.
Toward Manoj's feet.
He stumbled backward.
The crack followed.
Not random.
Not natural.
Intentional.
---
"Run!" Anirban shouted.
But before they could move—
The fog lifted.
Straight up.
Like a curtain pulled back.
And for the first time—
They saw it.
Not fully.
Just the outline.
Standing at the far end of the hollow.
Between two trees.
Too tall.
Too still.
Its shape wrong against the darkness.
It didn't reflect moonlight.
It absorbed it.
No face.
No clear features.
But they could feel where it was looking.
At Manoj.
Only Manoj.
The others felt it too.
The weight of attention shifting.
Like prey selected.
Dustu grabbed Manoj's arm.
"Why is it staring at you?"
Manoj didn't answer.
Because something inside him already knew.
---
The crack in the ground widened.
A deep hollow sound echoed beneath them.
Like something turning over in sleep.
The shrine trembled.
Stone grinding against stone.
Sayantika stepped closer to Manoj.
"Your family," she whispered. "What aren't you telling us?"
"I don't know!" he snapped.
But the words felt false even to him.
There were old stories.
Stories his grandmother used to cut off mid-sentence.
Warnings about going too deep into the garden.
About night.
About "keeping what's buried buried."
He never listened.
Now the ground was answering.
---
The figure moved.
Not walking.
Gliding.
Closer.
But still far enough to remain blurred in shadow.
Each step it didn't take still left a footprint.
The same long, thin, too-many-toed prints.
They appeared in the mud before it reached them.
Like the ground knew where it would stand.
Sibom backed away.
"I can't do this."
Anirban grabbed him.
"If you run again, it'll separate you."
"It wants that," Sayantika whispered.
The figure tilted its head slightly.
As if amused.
---
The crack reached Manoj's feet.
The soil collapsed beneath him.
He fell to one knee.
And for a second—
His hand slipped into the opening.
Something touched him.
Cold.
Dry.
Fingers.
From below.
Manoj screamed and yanked his hand back.
The crack snapped shut instantly.
Like it never existed.
But his palm—
Had a mark burned into it.
The same symbol from the shrine.
Perfect.
Dark.
Alive.
---
The figure stopped moving.
The whispers returned.
But now—
They were clear.
"Not them."
"Yours."
"Return."
Manoj stared at the mark.
His breathing shallow.
"It doesn't want all of us."
Sayantika's face went pale.
"What does it want?"
Before he could answer—
The trees behind them bent inward.
Closing.
Blocking the path back.
The fog rolled down again.
Thicker than before.
And the figure—
Vanished.
But the feeling didn't.
It was still there.
Closer now.
Not outside.
Among them.
Watching from within the circle.
Dustu turned slowly.
"We're not alone in this group anymore."
And somewhere behind Manoj—
Very close to his ear—
A voice whispered clearly.
"Come back."
Manoj froze.
Because the voice—
Sounded exactly like his own.
**To be continued…**