The wind screamed through the banyan branches, whipping Amara's hair across her face.The stone slab at the tree's roots lay crooked now, just enough to reveal the hole beneath.
From the blackness inside, two pale hands reached up—bony, cold, nails cracked and dirty.They twitched, clawing at the air, and the smell of damp soil and iron filled Amara's lungs.
Ravi yanked her back. "Don't go near it!" he shouted over the wind.
But the hands kept stretching higher, pulling against something unseen, as though the earth itself was trying to hold them down. A faint, low groan rose from the pit—half pain, half rage.
The cat arched and hissed, circling in front of Amara like a guard.Lightning flashed, and for a second they both saw it clearly: a man's face below, skin ashen, eyes glowing faintly gold.
"Raghav?" Amara gasped before she could stop herself.
The figure's eyes locked on hers, and the hands shot upward with sudden strength, grabbing the edge of the slab.
CRRRRRK! The roots above began to split as the thing pushed itself higher. Dirt fell in clumps.Amara stumbled backward into Ravi's arms. His heartbeat was fast against her shoulder.
"That's not Raghav," Ravi said, voice low and sharp. "It's something wearing him."
"But what if—" she started, but the thing pulled itself halfway out of the ground, and her words died.
The body was draped in rags soaked with mud. The skin was stretched tight over bone, lips torn into something like a smile. The gold in the eyes was bright now—too bright. It made her dizzy to look at them.
"You came back," it rasped. Its voice was many voices at once—male, female, old, young—layered into something unnatural. "You carry her blood. You will finish the promise."
The wind tore at the branches, making them groan and snap. A root under Amara's foot shifted as if the tree itself were waking.
"What promise?" she demanded, though her voice shook.
The figure's head tilted, mud dripping from its hair. "To stay. To love. Forever."
Before she could move, the hands lunged for her ankle.Ravi yanked her away just in time, his grip hard and urgent.
"Run!" he said.
But the roots of the banyan twisted, curling upward like snakes, blocking their path. One looped around Ravi's boot, pulling him down to one knee.
Amara dropped beside him, clawing at the root. "Let him go!" she screamed at the figure.
It laughed—a sound like breaking wood. "One for one," it said. "She left me. I will keep you."
The cat suddenly leapt into the pit, claws flashing. The thing recoiled, swatting at it, but the animal was too fast, darting and striking.
"Amara—now!" Ravi shouted.
She grabbed the lantern and hurled it into the hole.WHOOSH! The oil ignited instantly, light blooming in the pit. The figure screamed—not in pain exactly, but in fury—and the roots around them shuddered violently.
The hands tried to shield the face, but in the flames, Amara saw something else: a thin silver chain tangled in its fingers, and at the end of it, a small locket.
Her breath caught. She had seen that locket in the diary illustration—Asha's.
Without thinking, she lunged forward, snatched the chain from the burning hole, and fell back onto the wet earth. The figure roared, sinking back into the pit as the fire flared higher.
Then the roots went still.
For a long moment, only the wind spoke.The cat climbed out of the hole, its black fur singed at the tips, and shook itself.
Ravi pulled Amara to her feet. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, opening her fist to show the locket. The silver was tarnished, but the engraving on the back was clear:
A + R
Amara looked at Ravi. His face was pale, but his eyes were steady on hers.
"This… was real," she said softly.
"It's not over," he replied. "It was reaching for you. And now it knows your blood."
The banyan branches groaned above them, though there was no wind now.
Somewhere deep in the earth, faint but certain, came the sound of fingernails scraping wood.
It's still climbing.