The old archives were a forgotten place, tucked away in the outskirts of the city. A crumbling structure with vines creeping over its stone walls, it looked abandoned, but Satya knew better.
"This place still holds something," Professor Raghav whispered as they approached the rusted gate.
The air was thick with the scent of old paper and damp wood. The silence was unsettling, as if the very walls knew they were trespassing into a past that was never meant to be uncovered.
Virendra forced the door open, the wood groaning in protest.
Inside, rows of dusty shelves stretched into the darkness, filled with fragile records of a time long gone. The flickering light from their flashlights barely cut through the gloom.
Saanvi ran her fingers over the old files, searching. "Where do we even begin?"
Professor Raghav checked the labels. "Prison records… they should be in the eastern section."
They moved carefully, their steps muffled by layers of dust. Satya's pulse quickened as he scanned the dates. 1800s… 1850s… 1893…
Then, he saw it.
Royal Inmate Records – 1894.
His breath caught. That was the year Veer Meghawal had been imprisoned.
"We found it," he whispered.
Saanvi reached for the book, but before her fingers could touch the worn leather cover—
A creak.
Not from them.
Satya froze. The others had heard it too.
Someone else was inside the archives.
A shadow shifted between the shelves, barely visible in the dim light.
Virendra stiffened. "We're not alone."
A sudden gust of wind slammed a nearby window open, scattering old papers across the floor.
Saanvi gasped, her flashlight flickering as she turned sharply. "Who's there?"
Silence.
Satya's instincts screamed at him to move, but his feet were rooted to the ground. His grip tightened around the book.
A whisper cut through the silence—low, raspy, and chilling.
"Leave the past alone."
Saanvi's fingers found Satya's wrist, holding onto him. The voice had come from somewhere near the entrance.
Virendra pulled out a small knife from his pocket. "Show yourself."
No answer.
Then, the sound of hurried footsteps—retreating, fading into the darkness. Whoever had been there… was gone.
But the warning lingered in the air like a curse.
Satya exhaled shakily. He flipped open the record, scanning the fragile pages.
And then he saw it.
Prisoner No. 17 – Veer Meghawal.
Next to his name was a single word, hastily scribbled in red ink.
"Traitor."
A chill ran down Satya's spine.
Saanvi swallowed hard. "He wasn't just betrayed… he was branded as one."
Professor Raghav adjusted his glasses, his expression grim. "Which means there's more to this than we thought."
Virendra glanced toward the entrance. "And someone doesn't want us to find out what it is."
Satya clenched his jaw, his heart pounding.
The past was speaking.
And now, so was the enemy.