The doors of Black Hollow Orphanage creaked open on their own.
A gust of cold air rolled out, thick with the scent of dust, decay, and something else—something rotten. The four men exchanged glances, their instincts screaming danger. But they weren't the kind to turn back.
Veer stepped in first, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. Zayan followed, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the dark hallways. Rudra and Karan entered last, their usual confidence dampened by the unnatural stillness of the place.
The moment the last one stepped inside, the doors slammed shut.
A sharp bang echoed through the orphanage, the sound vibrating through the walls like a gunshot.
"Okay, that's not creepy at all," Zayan muttered.
Rudra tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. Locked.
"Not surprising," Veer said. He pulled out a flashlight and aimed it forward. The beam of light sliced through the darkness, revealing peeling wallpaper, broken furniture, and children's drawings on the walls—faded, but disturbingly intact.
One of them caught Karan's eye. He stepped closer.
It was a crayon drawing of four figures standing in front of the orphanage. Their faces were blank. And at their feet was a fifth figure—lying down, surrounded by red.
His stomach twisted. "Someone had a sick imagination."
"Or they saw something they shouldn't have," Veer replied.
Zayan moved ahead, stepping into what used to be the main hall. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, coated in dust. To the right was a reception desk, old and splintered. The nameplate was still there.
Headmistress Eleanor Graves.
As if summoned, a sudden whisper rushed through the air.
"They never left."
The flashlight flickered.
Zayan swore under his breath. "Did anyone else hear that?"
Rudra clenched his jaw. "Yeah. And I really don't want to know who said it."
Karan took out his knife, flipping it between his fingers—a nervous habit. "We should split up. Cover more ground."
"No." Veer's voice was firm. "We stay together."
Silence. Then Zayan chuckled. "You scared, Veer?"
Veer gave him a sharp look. "Something wanted us to come here. I don't know if it's a person or something worse, but we're not playing into its hands."
Karan let out a sigh. "Fine. But where do we start?"
Veer turned to the reception desk, where a thick ledger lay covered in dust. He flipped it open, scanning the names of children admitted over the years. But at the bottom of the last page, there was something else—something new.
Four names had been added in smudged ink.
Veer. Rudra. Zayan. Karan.
The ink was still wet.
The flashlight flickered out completely.
And somewhere in the orphanage, a door creaked open.
For a long moment, no one moved.
The flashlight in Veer's hand remained off, the ink of their names still glistening on the page. The only sound was their own breathing—steady, measured, but laced with unease.
Then, from somewhere deep inside the orphanage, the sound came again.
A door creaking open.
Soft, drawn-out, like something… or someone was letting them know they weren't alone.
"That came from upstairs," Zayan muttered, eyes trained on the shadowed staircase to their left.
Rudra exhaled sharply. "Of course it did."
Karan stepped back, stretching his neck. "We going up, or are we pretending we didn't hear that?"
Veer didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on the ledger, the fresh ink, the way the paper seemed untouched except for their names. He had been the one to open the book. Which meant… someone had written their names in the last few seconds.
Without making a sound.
He closed the book. "We go."
The wooden staircase groaned beneath their weight, but it was the silence that was heavier. The deeper they went, the more the air thickened, pressing against their skin like unseen hands.
The second floor was colder.
Colder than it should have been.
Their boots left faint prints in the dust-covered floor. The hallway stretched too far, like it was shifting, stretching. On either side, old wooden doors stood closed. Some had names carved into them, barely visible under the dust.
Room 201 – Alice
Room 202 – Daniel
Room 203 – Evelyn
They passed another set of rooms, the doors slightly ajar, revealing glimpses inside. Empty beds. Broken toys. Dolls with missing eyes.
Zayan exhaled. "Feels like a graveyard."
"It might be," Veer murmured.
Then, the whispering began.
Soft. Distant. The words unclear, like dozens of voices speaking at once. Some too fast, others too slow, but all of them were… wrong.
Zayan's fingers twitched toward his gun. "Tell me you hear that."
"Yeah," Rudra muttered. "I just don't want to."
And then—a sound stopped them cold.
Small, quick footsteps.
Running.
Behind them.
The four turned sharply, weapons drawn, but the hallway was empty.
Nothing.
Just their own footprints in the dust. And beside them…
A new set of smaller footprints.
Bare feet. Leading toward them.
The air dropped to freezing. The whispering stopped.
And then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Something knocked on the door right beside them.