She turned to head back to the house — but stopped.
There it was again. Not the wind exactly… more like a faint sound, distant and broken. A slow, creaking rhythm. Like an old swing moving on its own. Aria glanced over her shoulder.
Nothing there.
But the air suddenly felt colder. Still, but not empty.
Her arms prickled. She walked faster.
Inside, the warmth of the house didn't help much. Her mother stood at the kitchen counter, slicing apples like she'd been doing it for hours — like she was waiting.
"Did you step out?" her mother asked, eyes on the knife, not her.
"Just to the fence," Aria said. "I ran into someone. A girl... she said her name was Pari."
The sound of slicing stopped — barely a pause, but Aria noticed.
"Pari?" Her mom said the name slowly. "You're sure that's what she told you?"
"Yeah," Aria said, trying to read her face. "Why?"
Her mother gave a small smile — too quick. "No reason. People around here... they don't talk much to outsiders. Just don't get too friendly, alright?"
Aria frowned. "She said something weird. That Noor Hill doesn't like its silence broken."
This time, her mother didn't smile.
She went back to chopping, a little too fast now. "Old village nonsense. You'll hear plenty of it. Stories passed down by people with too much time."
"But do you believe it?"
Her mom's shoulders stiffened, just a little. She didn't answer.That night, Aria couldn't settle. Every time she closed her eyes, something pulled at her attention — the creaking again, this time closer. The hum of a melody, soft and unfamiliar. A lullaby, maybe. Faint, like it was seeping through the walls.
Downstairs, the old clock ticked louder than usual. Like each second was counting down to something.
Then, at 3:03 a.m., a whisper reached her.
Right through the thin gap beneath her door.
> "Don't wake it."
She sat up fast, heart racing.
She got up, crept to the door, and opened it just a crack.
The hallway was silent. Still.
Empty.
But something… watched.
And Aria knew — whatever silence Pari spoke about?
It wasn't peaceful.
It was warning.
***
She kept her breath shallow. Ears straining.
There was no one.
No footsteps. No creak. No second whisper.
Only the low hum of something unseen, like the walls themselves were holding back a truth too ancient to speak aloud.
She stepped into the hallway.
The air was colder here—sharp, unnatural. The kind of cold that lived inside old things. Forgotten things.
Her fingers hovered over the edge of the doorframe as she glanced left.
The shadows stretched longer than they should have.
To her right, the staircase disappeared into a thick blackness. It hadn't been like this before. There had always been a faint glow from the night bulb downstairs. But now—it was as though the house had swallowed its own light.
Something was… wrong.
Aria's lips parted.
She almost whispered hello?—but her throat tightened.
What if it answered?
Instead, she turned slowly. She didn't know why—instinct maybe.
That's when she saw it.
A single, scorched handprint on the wall.
Just below the light switch.
Burned in.
Faint—but unmistakable.
Her breath caught.
The whisper replayed in her mind, now like an echo pressing against her skull:
Don't rouse it.
Rouse what?
She backed up, heart rattling her ribcage, when she heard it again—
But this time, it wasn't a whisper.
It was breathing.
Low.
Heavy.
And close.
She spun, eyes wide.
Nothing.
No one.
But the air now had weight—like something unseen stood between her and her room. Watching. Waiting.
Aria stepped back—barefoot heel pressing into the safety of her doorway.
Her voice finally escaped, barely more than a cracked whisper:
"Pari... what did you leave me with?"
A soft thump echoed from downstairs.
Something was awake now.
And it wasn't Aria.