A soft creaking sound echoed through the wooden floorboards creeaak followed by a faint rustling, like pages being turned slowly. In the dim light peeking through the crack of the study door, a shadow moved.
Someone was watching.
A whisper floated out of the dark hallway.
"Don't push me, yaar… I'll become visible!" Deepak hissed, struggling to balance behind the half-open door.
"You're already visible, idiot," Kapil whispered back, crouched awkwardly behind a potted plant. "Your whole shoulder is in the light."
Both of them were peeking very obviously through the narrow space in the corridor that led to the small, quiet library room at the back of the house. Inside, Deepak's father was sitting calmly in his wooden chair, deeply engrossed in an old leather-bound book, his reading glasses perched at the edge of his nose.
Kapil squinted. "Does he ever blink?"
"Nope," Deepak whispered. "He reads like it's an Olympic sport."
They waited. And waited. And waited some more.
It had been over thirty minutes, and Deepak's father hadn't even stood up once. Not for water. Not to stretch. Not to check his phone.
"Maybe he's stuck to the chair," Kapil joked. "Like one of those cursed guardians in horror films."
"Shh! Don't jinx it. If he stays any longer, we'll need a lifetime subscription to this hallway."
Kapil shifted uncomfortably. "Bro, this was your idea! 'Wait until he leaves the house,' you said. 'He always leaves in the morning,' you said. You sure your dad's not part-time library furniture?"
Deepak sighed. "He's supposed to go out by now. Maybe he's on leave or something."
The mood was a mix of boredom and quiet panic. They had come all this way—healed from supernatural injuries, survived a horrifying shadow, and somehow escaped death only to be blocked by the toughest challenge yet:
A dad who won't leave the house.
"So, what now?" Kapil whispered, clearly getting impatient. "We sit here till we grow beards?"
Deepak groaned. "No… we need a distraction. Something that'll get him out. Maybe some emergency?"
Kapil's eyes suddenly sparkled. "Wait... emergency! Bro, give me his phone number."
"What?! Why?"
"Trust me. I've done this before with my principal. It worked."
Deepak hesitated. "You're not going to prank-call my dad, are you?"
"No, man. I'm going to be his boss." Kapil grinned, pulling out his phone. "Watch and learn."
He cleared his throat dramatically, switched to a deep, serious voice, and dialed the number.
Inside the library, Deepak's father's phone began to ring.
Both boys froze for a second, watching as he checked the caller ID.
Kapil whispered urgently, "Tell me his boss's name. Quick!"
"Mr. Saxena."
Kapil nodded, then turned away and spoke into the phone in a sharp, commanding tone.
"Hello, Mr. Saini? This is Saxena. Listen, I need you at the office urgently. The files from the trust meeting have been misplaced, and there's some issue with the Ramayana script project. It's urgent please come right away."
There was a pause.
Deepak's father stood up slowly from his chair.
The boys exchanged wide-eyed glances.
"He's buying it!" Kapil mouthed excitedly.
"I'll leave immediately," Deepak's father said into the phone. "Just give me 15 minutes."
He hung up, closed the book gently, and placed it on the shelf.
Then, as he walked out of the library and toward his room to change, the two boys bolted silently down the hallway and into the kitchen, pretending to drink water casually like they'd been there all along.
"Boys, I'll be out for a bit," their dad called as he grabbed his keys.
Deepak waved innocently. "Okay, Dad. Take your time!"
As soon as the door shut behind him and the car engine roared to life outside, both boys dropped their act and sprinted toward the library like burglars on a time limit.
Kapil flung the door open dramatically. "Operation Ramayan success."
Deepak stepped inside, breathing in the scent of old wood, incense, and paper.
Every wall of the room was lined with tall bookshelves, filled with ancient texts, scriptures, palm-leaf manuscripts, leather-bound volumes, and old Hindi books that looked untouched for decades. A brass statue of Lord Rama stood in the corner, next to an intricately carved oil lamp.
"This," Kapil whispered in awe, "is a temple."
Deepak nodded slowly. "This is where the answers begin."
But even as they stepped in, a cold wind seemed to brush against their necks—despite no open windows.
The spiral on Deepak's palm pulsed just once.
Something was watching.
And the library had its own secrets.
The quiet hum of the ceiling fan spun above them, but Deepak and Kapil were lost in a different kind of whirlwind a race without a clear path. They had no idea what they were looking for, or even where to begin. All they knew was that the answers might be hidden somewhere within the dusty maze of books around them.
"This place is like a mini-version of a national archive," Kapil muttered, flipping through a stack of brittle pages. "How are we supposed to find anything here?"
"We start from Ramayan. Everything connects to that somehow," Deepak replied, pulling down another set of old scriptures and placing them on the table.
They scoured through several old texts some written in Sanskrit, others in ancient Hindi. Page after page, they read about the epic war between Rama and Ravana, the vanara army, Lanka's golden towers, and even footnotes about mythological weapons. But none of it explained spiral marks, magical healing, or shadow creatures that hunted in the dark.
After over an hour of digging, they had a growing pile of books but nothing to show for it.
"We're missing something," Kapil said, rubbing his temples. "Something important."
Just then, Deepak's eyes landed on a small, dust-covered wooden box tucked away in the far corner of the highest shelf. Unlike the books around it, this box was locked with a brass clasp and wrapped in faded red cloth.
His breath caught.
"I remember this…" Deepak whispered, stepping closer.
Kapil followed, curious. "What is it?"
"My dad has always kept this box hidden. He used to say… never to touch it. That it belonged to our ancestors. I saw him once years ago looking inside it when he thought I was asleep. He handled it like it was sacred."
Kapil raised an eyebrow. "Well, sacred or not, that sounds like exactly the kind of thing we should be opening."
Deepak hesitated, fingers brushing over the brass lock. "I'm not sure…"
Kapil stepped forward and gave him a little nudge. "Bro, we literally fought a shadow monster, survived a magical storm, and got flung through a glowing portal. I think we can handle a box."
Deepak gave a weak chuckle, then sighed. "Alright. But let me do it. I remember how."
He bent down and carefully untied the faded red cloth, revealing the full surface of the box etched with symbols and a faint spiral design at the center. With practiced hands, he twisted the small knobs on the lock in a familiar pattern. After a soft click, the box creaked open.
Dust wafted out in a gray puff, making them both cough.
It looked like no one had opened it in decades.
Inside were loose bundles of worn, yellowing paper, a few brittle scrolls, and right at the bottom a red, leather-bound book. A map was folded beside it, its ink faded and edges torn.
Kapil reached for the book immediately. "This looks ancient."
Deepak picked up the scrolls, unrolling them with care. "This map… I can't even tell what place this is. It doesn't look like any modern location."
As Kapil flipped through the red book, his expression shifted from casual curiosity to sharp alertness.
"Wait… hold on…" he muttered, stopping on one of the pages.
"What is it?" Deepak asked, leaning over.
Kapil turned the book toward him. "Look here. This page it talks about a lost tribe. Says they were once the protectors of sacred knowledge. And right here…"
Kapil pointed to a hand-drawn sketch in the margins.
A spiral.
Exactly like the one etched into Deepak's palm.
Both of them stared at it in stunned silence.
"That's it," Deepak breathed. "That's the exact same spiral. Same design, same flow."
Kapil flipped a few more pages, reading quickly. "It says the tribe was hidden in plain sight. That they were chosen… to carry knowledge that wasn't meant for the world. Something about a guardian's curse. And rituals that… bind the soul to time?"
"What does that even mean?" Deepak whispered.
"I don't know," Kapil said. "But whatever this is… I think we just found the first real clue."
A chill swept through the room again, brushing the backs of their necks.
Deepak closed the book slowly. "We're not just dealing with shadows anymore."
Kapil looked at him. "We're part of something old. Something mythic.
Something related to load ram."
Deepak nodded. "And this… this is just the beginning."
Something was watching and waiting for right time.