The lettering on the wall had disappeared by daybreak. Not dimmed—gone, as if it had never been. No ash. Not a mark. Just ancient, pristine plaster.
Exhausted yet unable to sleep, Ramlal and Deepak sat in quiet. Unopened since the previous evening, the unearthed box rested on the floor between them, now wrapped in fabric once again.
With a raspy voice, Deepak stated, "We need answers." The man who handed you the scarecrow was from a different village, you mentioned. Can you recall which one it was?
Slowly, Ramlal nodded. Chandanpur. Near the dried lake, about two hours to the east. However, it was two decades ago. He could be dead.
"Or worse," mumbled Deepak. "Remaining alive."
They quickly packed the box, the oil light, and a bag of protective ash that Ramlal had preserved from the Holika bonfire the previous year. They dared not turn around and left the scarecrow field behind.
The sky started to shift as they traveled through dense jungle and winding dirt roads on their lengthy journey to Chandanpur. What ought to have been a sunny morning turned dreary when the sun disappeared under an artificial mist.
The village of Chandanpur was strangely silent when they arrived.
The scent of rotting wood and moist earth filled the air. Like weary old men, the mud buildings slumped against one another. Windows were shuttered and most doors were locked. However, they were observed by someone.
An elderly woman with cataract-clouded eyes sat close to the temple door, dressed in a worn yellow sari. Before they even exchanged words, she grinned.
She whispered, "He's waiting." In the grove of banyans. same location.
Ramlal tensed. "Who?"
As though she could see through the haze of aging, the woman turned her face to face him. "The person you bound." The person who provided you with the field
She shut her eyes and started humming before they could ask any more questions.
Following the trail behind the temple, they came to an ancient banyan grove covered in moss and roots. The trees were huge, suffocating light with limbs that spanned the sky like arms.
And a man sat under the biggest tree.
He was dressed in white.He had long, tangled, grey hair. His beard hung down to his chest. He had an ageless yet elderly appearance.
He spoke without opening his eyes as they got closer.
"Never break the seal, I told you."
Ramlal fell to the ground. "Pardon me. I didn't intend to. I considered... I assumed it was finished.
The elderly man's eyes opened. They blazed with an odd brightness, but they were milky white.
He remarked, "You never realized what you were defending." It was not a guardian scarecrow. A jailer was involved.
Deepak took a step ahead. "So what was being imprisoned?"
The man looked across at him. "A soul that never came into the world." An ancient piece of something older than your gods, cursed. Ramlal, I exploited your land as a cage.Blood was necessary to link the ground. The lock was the scarecrow.
Ramlal's voice faltered. "I unearthed the ring." I had no idea.
"You tampered with the earth. The thread of quiet was broken by you. The lock is now weak.
Deepak put the wooden box in front of the man after unwrapping the bundle of cloth.
"Is this helpful?" he inquired.
Leaning forward, the elderly guy lightly touched the box.
"No. That's just a portion of it. A link in the chain. Beneath the well, in your field, is the true anchor.
Ramlal's gaze expanded. "The well? I could hear the footsteps there. The source of the cold every time.The elderly man gave a nod. Since it's more than just a well. Once it was a pit. Someone who worshipped the creature that now wears your scarecrow as a mask dug a pit.
Deepak shuddered. "So, how can we prevent it?"
The man said, "There's only one way." "You have to give the lock back. Rebind it. However, this time... It needs to be done consciously. You have to contribute something equally significant. Something living.
Ramlal gave a headshake. What do you mean by a sacrifice?
The elderly man remained silent. Simply glanced at him.
Desperate, Deepak's voice increased. "There must be an alternative."
The man stated, "There isn't." And you have to make a decision fast. Every night, the scarecrow gets stronger. It won't be confined to your territory for long.
With the weight of his misdeeds pressing down on his chest, Ramlal became silent.
He answered, "Then tell us what we need to do." "Step by step."
The man prayed in a whisper while placing a hand on Ramlal's head. "Return home. Let the well open. Go under the stones. You'll discover the binding's core. Additionally, keep in mind that only blood can mend what blood has destroyed.
"Who are you really?" Deepak inquired as they turned to go.
The man gave a small smile. It was me who secured the door. However, when it opens, I won't be the one facing it.
Be ready for the next part soon.