Dinner that evening felt like a reward before the storm. Amit’s cook had outdone himself—a rich masala fish curry simmered in a fragrant blend of turmeric, coriander, and green chilies, the tender river fish soaking up every layer of spice. Alongside it, crisp golden fillets were laid out, dusted with lemon and chaat masala, their scent blending perfectly with warm, freshly baked naan. The food filled us with comfort and strength, though none of us voiced the same thought—we would need every bit of it.
Peter grabbed a fillet and held it up dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present the official combat ration of 2026. First one to defeat a headless creature earns dessert privileges!”
Abdul shook his head, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “You’ll be lucky if you manage to stay quiet when one actually shows up.”
Amit chuckled lightly. “Eat well. By tonight, peace and proper meals might not be an option.”
I nodded, savoring the heat of the spices. “Better to go in prepared than weak. Hunger and fear don’t mix well in situations like this.”
Rosy sat close by, watching us intently, her tail tapping the floor in slow rhythm. Peter bent down to scratch her ears. “Relax, girl. We won’t let any creepy headless thing come near you.”
Abdul set his fork aside, his tone turning serious. “I wouldn’t count on it being that simple. Whatever these things are… they don’t belong to the living or the dead. Something else entirely. And they’re patient.”
Amit’s expression hardened. “And calculating. They strike when people least expect it. That’s why we can’t afford recklessness. We plan first—act later.”
Peter leaned back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, strategy over heroics. So basically, the quietest and most terrifying game of hide-and-seek ever created.”
Diljeet exhaled sharply. “Enough, Peter. This isn’t entertainment. People are depending on us.”
The meal ended with fewer jokes and more unspoken understanding. Plates were cleared, and the faint scent of cardamom tea lingered in the air, offering a fragile sense of comfort as the night crept in. We moved to the main hall, where bedding had been arranged in a row. Surrounded by familiar faces, the space felt safer—but beyond those walls, the darkness seemed watchful. Sleep came slowly, restless and shallow, broken only by the hum of the fan and distant sounds drifting in from the street.
Sometime deep into the night, a faint noise stirred me awake—a soft movement near the window. Abdul shifted beside me, instantly alert. “You heard that?” he whispered.
I nodded, my pulse quickening. “Probably wind… or an animal. Try to sleep.”
From across the room, Peter murmured in his dreams, “I told you… the headless…”
Diljeet groaned without opening his eyes. “Wake me when it’s real, Peter…”
Morning arrived gently, sunlight filtering through the curtains in pale golden streaks. Birds chirped in uneven bursts, and the smell of sizzling parathas drifted in from the kitchen. We gathered around the table, quieter than usual, the tension from the night still lingering.
Abdul broke the silence. “We should double-check everything before we leave.”
Amit nodded. “Already done. Knives, ropes, amulets—everything we had last time, plus more. We’re not taking chances.”
I glanced through my bag. “Good. No room for mistakes.”
Peter examined a small knife, frowning. “If one of those things jumps me in the dark, I’m blaming all of you. Especially Abdul.”
Abdul gave him a flat look. “I stay calm for survival. You invite chaos.”
Peter grinned. “I prefer ‘adventure magnet.’”
By late morning, we packed everything into Rosy. The jeep seemed heavier than usual—loaded not just with gear, but with anticipation. When the engine roared to life, its steady vibration felt like a heartbeat beneath us.
The road stretched ahead through open land painted in soft winter tones. Fields of mustard swayed in the breeze, their yellow blooms glowing under the clear sky. Tall date palms lined the distant riverbanks, and far ahead, the Indus shimmered under the sunlight like a sheet of moving silver. Birds circled above, their distant calls echoing faintly.
Peter leaned forward, staring ahead. “You have to admit—this is beautiful. Too beautiful for something horrible not to be hiding in it.”
Diljeet shook his head. “Stay focused.”
Amit pointed ahead. “That bridge—cross it, and we’re close.”
The structure curved over the wide river, offering a clear view of the flowing water below. From above, the Indus looked calm, almost peaceful, but there was something ancient in its movement—something that didn’t sit right.
I leaned slightly out, scanning the edges. “Stay alert. These things don’t give warnings.”
Abdul’s hand rested near his amulet. “And listen carefully. Silence can be deceiving.”
Peter exhaled quietly. “Fantastic. Even the wind might be against us.”
After crossing, we turned onto a narrow dirt path hugging the riverbank. The terrain grew uneven, dotted with stones and patches of wild grass. Soon, a cluster of banyan trees came into view, and beyond them—a village. Mud houses stood close together, thin trails of smoke rising from their roofs.
“That’s the place,” Amit said softly. “Where it started.”
A cold unease settled over me. The village appeared calm, almost ordinary—but something about the stillness felt unnatural, like everything was waiting.
Peter shifted uneasily. “Nice place. Shame about the lurking nightmares.”
Abdul murmured, “Don’t let the calm fool you.”
We brought Rosy to a halt at the village edge. From there, the fields stretched out toward the river, glowing faintly under the winter sun. Villagers lingered cautiously—some watching from behind walls, others half-hidden among trees. Their faces carried fear, the kind that comes from witnessing something they cannot explain.
Amit turned to us, his tone firm. “We split up once we move in. Diljeet, you’re with me on the north side. Abdul, you take the south with Ahmed. Peter—stay close, no wandering. Keep your amulets on. Don’t underestimate what we’re dealing with.”
Peter gave a theatrical salute. “Understood. I shall bravely contribute… mostly by staying alive.”
I gave him a faint smile. “That’s all we need from you.”
And just like that, the beauty around us began to feel fragile—like a thin veil hiding something far more sinister. The river gleamed quietly, the wind whispered through the trees, and the stillness ahead felt less like peace and more like a warning.
Whatever these entities were, they didn’t belong to the natural world. They weren’t bound by flesh alone—but by something older, something far more merciless.
Whether we would destroy them… or fall trying… was a question the silence refused to answer.
ns216.73.216.98da2This work is my own concept and I have done enormous amount of hardwork on it. However the grammar is corrected with AI because it is not my native language.
and then Add to home screen.