Darkness swallowed the house.
Not night-dark.
Thick-dark.
The kind that presses against your eyes until you're not sure if they're open anymore.
Ayaan's hands scraped the wall as he moved. The surface felt wrong—soft in places, warm like skin left too long in the sun.
"Zoya?" he whispered.
Somewhere nearby, she answered shakily,
"I'm here… I think. If the house hasn't eaten me yet."
Even in terror, her sarcasm survived.
Ammi's voice trembled from the corner,
"Don't joke, beta… keep reciting."
They began whispering Ayat-ul-Kursi together. Their voices layered like weak candles in heavy wind.
With every verse, the darkness shifted.
Not away—
Angrily.
The walls groaned.
From above, something crawled. Not footsteps. Elbows. Knees. The sound of joints dragging across the ceiling.
Zoya gasped.
"Whatever that is, it skipped leg day."
Ayaan almost laughed before terror crushed it.
Then Imran's voice floated through the hall.
"Ayaan…"
Soft.
Broken.
Human again.
Ayaan's heart jumped.
"Imran?"
The voice came closer.
"I'm stuck… The house is inside my head."
A shape formed in the dark.
Imran stepped forward slowly.
His face looked normal now. Pale. Sweaty. Scared.
Zoya whispered,
"He looks… okay?"
Imran smiled weakly.
"See? Still handsome."
For one second, hope breathed.
Then his neck bent sideways.
Not cracking.
Folding.
His mouth spoke, but another voice pushed under it:
"You humans always trust the face."
Imran's skin rippled like water.
Shadow poured from his eyes.
The jinn revealed itself halfway out of him.
Ayaan shouted,
"Run!"
The hallway stretched like rubber.
The house didn't want escape.
It wanted audience.