Five remained.
No one spoke much anymore. Their faces were pale, eyes tired, and hands constantly shaking. Sleep had become dangerous. Dreams were no longer just dreams — they were messages. Warnings.
Aryan had started piecing things together. Names, timings, rooms — everything was going into his notebook. One night, while flipping through an old record book they found in the storage room, he saw something that made his heart stop.
A photo.
Old, dusty… and yet chilling.
In it stood nine boys… and one girl. All wearing the same hostel uniforms. Standing in front of the building. Smiling.
But the tenth face — the girl — her eyes were scratched out.
The caption read:
"Batch of 1994 — Seth Govind Hostel."
Aryan took the photo to Mr. Mishra.
The old man went silent.
"Who was she?" Aryan demanded. "She stayed here, didn't she?"
Mr. Mishra finally looked up. "Her name was Meera. She was the only girl ever allowed to live here. A mistake we never corrected."
"What happened to her?"
Mr. Mishra's eyes filled with regret. "They locked her in the basement. The boys… they thought it was a joke. They thought she would scream and they'd laugh. But she never screamed."
"She never came out."
"The next morning, she was dead."
Aryan's blood ran cold.
"She wasn't supposed to be here," Mishra whispered. "This place… it belongs to her now."
That night, Aryan gathered the remaining four — Vishal, Deepak, Faizan, and Kabir.
"We need to see the basement," he said. "That's where it began."
They found the locked hatch behind the kitchen — rusted, almost hidden behind sacks of rice and cobwebs. When they forced it open, the air that rushed out was unlike anything they had felt before.
Cold.
But not normal cold — a dead cold. Ancient. Bitter.
They descended slowly, flashlight beams trembling with every step.
At the bottom, only darkness.
And then… the sound of anklets.
Soft. Coming closer.
Kabir whispered, "Do you hear that?"
Vishal replied with a trembling voice, "We need to leave. Now."
But it was too late.
The light went out.
A scream echoed.
When the others turned, Faizan was gone.
In his place, a small red ribbon — soaked in something dark.
Aryan picked it up.
Whispers filled the basement:
"She was never alone."
Now, only four remained.