The forest air felt thicker once they left the cave.
Rana walked with purpose, boots crunching over leaves and sticks, but his silence said everything: he wasn't proud of retreating—just stubborn about it. Behind him, Bhavna checked over her shoulder for the fifth time, as if expecting Arjun to come limping after them.
He didn't.
"I still feel bad," she muttered.
"He made his choice," Rana replied flatly. "We made ours."
Tarun jogged to catch up. "Guys… did you hear that?"
They all stopped.
Rix tilted his head. "That sound... like someone groaning?"
It came again—a soft, pained whimper carried on the breeze.
They moved toward it.
And that's when they saw her.
Maya.
She lay curled near the base of a thick tree, half-covered in fallen leaves. Her hair was matted, her forehead bruised, dried blood streaked down her temple. She was breathing—shallow, uneven—but alive.
"Maya!" Bhavna rushed forward and knelt beside her.
Maya's eyes fluttered open, barely registering the faces.
She whispered, hoarse, "A… Arjun?"
Bhavna smiled softly. "He's okay. He's coming for you."
But Maya shook her head weakly. "No… no… don't let him come here…"
"What do you mean?"
Before Maya could answer, a sound came from behind the trees.
A low shuffle.
And then—others stepped out.
Three more survivors.
A middle-aged man, one arm bound in torn cloth, his other arm guiding a small child, no older than five, barefoot and wide-eyed.
Behind them, a teenage boy stood perfectly still—staring at nothing, his lips slightly parted, his pupils blown wide like he'd seen something his brain hadn't accepted yet.
Rana stepped forward, scanning the group. "Where were you hiding?"
The man answered. "Not hiding… running. It followed us. It chased the others." He paused. "I think some of them didn't make it."
Bhavna looked around. "How long have you been out here?"
The man looked up, his voice flat. "What day is it?"
Tarun leaned toward Rix and whispered, "Why do they look like they've been here longer than we have?"
Rana knelt beside Maya. "You're safe now."
But she grabbed his arm weakly.
"No," she whispered. "No one's safe here."
Meanwhile…
Arjun kept walking.
The tunnel twisted around him, the light from his torch flickering with every limping step. The deeper he went, the less it felt like a cave. The walls were too smooth in some parts, almost polished, then suddenly jagged again. Like something had carved its way through over centuries.
He passed symbols etched into the walls—spirals, sharp lines, stick figures standing in circles. Some of the figures had extra arms. Or no faces.
The air grew warmer.
He blinked sweat from his eyes.
Then—something new.
A blackened shoe.
Modern. Torn at the laces.
He bent down and picked it up.
"Someone's been here," he murmured.
A few steps further, he found it.
A skeleton.
Human.
Dressed in tattered, faded airline uniform.
The pin on the shirt pocket was half-buried in dust, but still visible: SkyStar International.
Arjun's brows drew together. "What the hell…"
SkyStar shut down over five years ago.
The bones were clean. Picked. As if nothing but time and small teeth had worked them over.
And suddenly, the cave didn't feel like a place people had fallen into by accident.
It felt like a trap.
A system built not by nature, but by design.
He heard something ahead.
Not a voice.
Not Maya.
Breathing.
Something huge.
Slow.
Waiting.
He didn't turn back.
He just took one more step forward.