From deep inside the pitch-black room, the faint, chilling sound of a little girl’s laughter echoed through the silence.
The sound sent a cold shiver straight down Areeba’s spine.
Startled, Areeba turned her eyes toward Meher, her heart pounding violently against her chest.
“Meher…” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Instead of offering comfort, Meher gently but firmly let go of her hand.
“This time, you must step inside alone,” Meher said, her voice completely devoid of emotion.
Areeba gasped, frozen in confusion and fear.
“But why?” Meher stared into the darkness of the room and spoke softly, “Because whatever you are about to see inside…
it is meant for your eyes only.” Areeba looked at the heavy, dark wooden door.
The darkness beyond it seemed to swallow the light.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath to steady her nerves, she slowly extended her foot.
Step by step, she crossed the threshold and walked inside.
The atmosphere of this room was entirely different from the rest of the decaying mansion.
The air felt heavy, frozen in time, and smelled of decaying paper and old dust.
Ancient, faded photographs hung on the damp walls, their painted eyes seemingly tracking her every move.
In the dead center of the room stood a massive, ornate mirror.
As Areeba’s eyes naturally drifted toward the glass, Meher’s chilling warning flashed in her mind: “Do not look into it.” Terrified of what might look back, she instantly averted her eyes and looked down at the floor.In a quiet corner of the room sat a dusty, antique wooden chest.
Drawn by an inexplicable urge, Areeba walked over, wiped the dust away, and slowly lifted the creaking lid.
Inside, resting on a bed of velvet, lay a bundle of yellowed letters, a faded photograph, and a small, leather-bound diary.
She picked up the diary.
Written on the very first page was her grandmother’s name.
Areeba’s heart skipped a beat.
With shaking fingers, she flipped the page.
The very first line read: “The events that took place on the night of October 18, 2006…
Rashid was not to blame for them.”Areeba stopped breathing for a second.
She quickly turned to the next page.
“Rashid only witnessed the horrific secret that was deliberately hidden from all of us.
“Suddenly, the words on the page triggered a flood of buried, distorted memories from her childhood.
Fragmented images flashed violently before her eyes—she saw a younger Meher tightly gripping her hand, dragging her as they sprinted through dark corridors.
She heard agonizing, blood-curdling screams echoing through the halls.
And then…
that same cursed mirror appeared in her memory.
Overwhelmed by fear, Areeba slammed the diary shut.
Just then, a cold voice spoke from right behind her.
“Now, it will all come back to you.
“Areeba spun around.
Meher was standing perfectly still at the doorway.”Meher, please tell me the truth,” Areeba begged, tears welling up.
“Who was Rashid?” Meher remained silent for a few agonizing moments, her gaze hollow.
Then, she softly replied, “Rashid was your grandmother’s brother.
“Areeba’s eyes widened in utter shock.
“My grand-uncle?
“”Yes.
And the terrifying secret he desperately tried to uncover…
is the exact reason he lost his life.” Trembling, Areeba asked, “Who…
who killed him?
“Tears finally welled up in Meher’s eyes, reflecting the dim light.
“Rashid was not killed by any human being.” Instantly, a sudden, unnaturally freezing gust of wind swept through the room, making the old photographs rattle against the walls.
Without daring to look at the mirror, Meher whispered, “On that fateful night, he accidentally unleashed the Shadow.
“Areeba’s voice was barely a whisper.
“What was the Shadow, exactly?
“”A malevolent, ancient spirit that was bound to this mansion for centuries,” Meher replied.
Then, she fixed her piercing gaze onto Areeba.
“But it is no longer just a spirit.” Confused and terrified, Areeba asked, “Then what is it now?
“Meher’s voice dropped to a sinister whisper.
“It has taken possession of a human body.
It has made someone its permanent home.
“All the color drained from Areeba’s face, leaving her deadly pale.
“Who is it?
“Instead of answering directly, Meher cast a dark look toward the empty corridor outside the room.
She spoke in a low, ominous tone, “The very person you trust blindly.
The one you trust more than anyone else in this world.” Areeba stared at Meher, her mind racing through faces.
“The person I trust the most?” Meher nodded slowly, her expression grim.
“But who is it?
Tell me!” Areeba cried out.
Meher did not answer verbally.
Instead, her eyes dropped significantly to the leather-bound book in Areeba’s hands.
“Open the very last page of the diary.” With a racing heart and trembling hands, Areeba opened to the final page.
There, written in dark, jagged ink, was a single name: “Dadi Zohra.” Areeba’s breath caught in her throat.
The room seemed to spin.
“No…
it can’t be…” Meher looked at her with deep sorrow and whispered…