Hey there! Thank you for sticking with this story! Your support means the world to me, and I'm so grateful to have you along for the ride. 😊

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DAY - 2:

The next morning at the palace began with excited chatter and the clatter of footsteps echoing through ancient corridors. The design teams were buzzing with ideas, gathering materials and snapping references from every crumbling pillar and carved stone.

But Nusrat and Advika had something else on their minds.

"Are you sure no one will notice?" Advika whispered, glancing over her shoulder.

"They're all obsessed with those texture walls," Nusrat replied with a small smirk. "We've got at least half an hour."

With the rest of their team scattered across the southern wing of the palace, Nusrat and Advika quietly slipped away toward the  section they had explored the day before.

The hallways were eerily still.

No birds, no rustling wind. Just silence and dust.

Advika's heart beat a little faster as they walked deeper into the quiet corridors, her mind replaying flashes of what she'd seen the previous day... the ghostly face twisted in horror, the haunting sway of the girl dancing in the courtyard, barefoot and smiling.

"I saw her here yesterday," she said softly. "She was dancing... like she didn't know she was being watched."

Nusrat nodded, thoughtful. "And then last night... in our room's mirror. She looked right at us, Advika. It wasn't just your imagination or hallucination."

They checked behind tapestries, peeked into forgotten rooms, ran fingers across faded plaques and wall carvings. But there was nothing. No name, no portrait, no mention of a young girl; ghostly or royal.

Just dust, time, and silence.

After nearly thirty minutes of searching, the two girls slumped onto a stone bench in a shady corridor, frustration written across both their faces.

"She had to have been someone," Nusrat muttered. "You don't just haunt a palace like that for no reason."

Advika sighed, her brows furrowed. "But no records, no portrait... it's like she never existed."

They stood up reluctantly and began making their way back toward the southern wing, where they'd left their bags and sketchbooks earlier with the rest of the team.

"I thought maybe we'd find a name, something to go on..." Advika trailed off.

"Same," Nusrat said, rubbing her arms against the sudden chill. "I guess we were wrong."

As they reached the shaded archway near the courtyard where everyone had been working, Advika spotted her sketchbook resting where she'd left it... propped open on the stone ledge. Her pencil lay across the top like someone had been using it.

"Huh. That's weird," she said, picking it up. "I didn't leave it open...." Her words froze in her throat.

Nusrat peered over her shoulder and gasped.

There, scribbled across the middle of the page, was a name.

Not drawn in pencil. Not written with ink.

"Princess Saanvi Rathore"

The red lettering looked wet... thick and uneven like it had been smeared. The way it bled into the page made it look like...

Blood.

Advika dropped the sketchbook, stumbling back a step. "No. No no no, I didn't write that."

"I know you didn't," Nusrat said, her voice low and shaky. "That wasn't there when we left."

They looked at each other, hearts racing.

"And you said she was wearing royal clothes, right?" Nusrat asked, her voice now barely a whisper.

Advika nodded slowly, still staring at the name. "A lehenga... embroidery done with real gold from the looks of it. She looked like a princess."

Silence stretched between them.

Princess. The name.  Saanvi Rathore.

"Wait...isn't that Rajmanya's princess?! Saanvi Rathore? But why is she reaching out to you?" Nusrat wondered aloud, her eyes wide as she stared at the sketchbook on the ground.

"More importantly..." Advika's voice was barely above a whisper now. "Why does she look like my younger self?"

A chill passed between them.

Before they could process the weight of those words, a loud voice cut through the silence. "What are you guys discussing?"

Both girls jumped in shock, spinning around with their hands clutched to their chests.

It was Chirag, grinning at first until he saw their faces. "Okay, whoa. Why do you both look like you just saw a ghost?" he asked, his grin fading. "Are you guys okay?"

Advika tried to steady her breathing, exchanging a look with Nusrat. For a second, neither of them spoke.

Nusrat cleared her throat. "Uh... we just... got startled. Old palace. Creepy vibes. You know?"

Chirag squinted at them, clearly not convinced. "You sure? You both look like you saw something seriously messed up."

Advika hesitated, then bent down to pick up her sketchbook. She quickly closed it, hiding the bloodied name inside.

"We're fine," she said quickly. "Just... maybe didn't sleep well last night."

Chirag looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright... if you say so. But I'm keeping an eye on you two. If you start chanting in Latin or floating in the air, I'm out."

Despite the tension, Nusrat let out a shaky laugh. "Noted," she said. "You'll be the first to know if we start levitating."

As Chirag walked back toward the team, still glancing back at them with suspicion. 

Advika turned to Nusrat. "We can't tell anyone yet. Not until we know what's going on."

Nusrat nodded. "Agreed. But something tells me... this is just the beginning."

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Later that day, Advika decided to push the ghostly incident from her mind. At least for now.

She had work to do.

If they were going to draw inspiration from Rajmanya's rich history, she needed more than just crumbling pillars and faded murals. She needed texture, fabric, thread, embellishments. The kind of details only time and tradition could perfect.

With her sketchbook tucked under her arm, she wandered the corridors of the palace again, this time with a purpose. After asking the tour guide for directions, she made her way to the inner quarters once reserved for the royal women.

Princess Saanvi Rathore's chambers.

Dust clung to every surface, but the air inside still carried the faint scent of sandalwood and rose like the ghost of a memory that refused to fade.

Carefully, Advika moved through the room, running her fingers along the carved wooden dresser and the faded velvet cushions. That's when she spotted it... an old, weather-beaten trunk sitting at the foot of the ornate bed, half-concealed under a pale white sheet.

Her heart thudded with curiosity.

She pulled the sheet away and opened the trunk slowly. It creaked loudly, releasing a puff of time-worn air. Inside lay neatly folded traditional garments... lehengas, odhnis, and cholis from another era, some with fading embroidery, others still shimmering faintly in the light filtering through the window.

Advika's fingers hovered over the fabrics with reverence. She picked up a deep maroon lehenga, the golden zari work glinting in the morning light like woven fire. It was exquisite; heavy, regal, and remarkably well-preserved. She could picture it in motion, the way it must have looked when worn by the princess herself.

Unable to keep this moment to herself, she pulled out her phone and quickly called Nusrat.

"Nusu! You won't believe what I found. I'm in Princess Saanvi's chambers. There's a whole trunk of her actual clothes!" she whispered excitedly.

"No way!" Nusrat gasped on the other end. "Send me the location. I'm coming right now."

Advika did just that and returned her attention to the lehenga. She held it up, admiring the intricate threadwork. Her mind buzzed with ideas... maybe they could incorporate this motif into their final collection. It was timeless, regal, and unique.

But then... 

Ching. Ching. Ching.

The unmistakable sound of ghungroos echoed softly through the room.

Advika stiffened. Then, slowly turned toward the large mirror on the other side of the chamber... and her breath caught in her throat.

Her reflection wasn't alone.

Standing behind her, perfectly framed in the mirror's antique glass, was the same ghostly girl... no, the same girl who looked just like her younger self... dressed in the exact lehenga Advika held in her hands. The girl's expression was serene, almost melancholic, and her kohl-lined eyes stared directly at Advika through the glass.

The ghungroos chimed again as the girl took a slow step forward, raising one hand as if reaching out.

Advika couldn't scream. She couldn't even breathe.

The room tilted violently... and then everything went dark.

A few minutes later, Nusrat burst into the chambers, panting slightly from rushing.

"Advika?" she called out.

Silence.

Her gaze swept across the room until it landed on her friend, lying unconscious on the floor beside the open trunk. The maroon lehenga was still clutched in her limp hand.

"Advika!" Nusrat rushed to her side, dropping to her knees and shaking her gently. "Hey! Wake up!"

As she cradled her friend's head and reached for her phone to call for help, she didn't notice the mirror across the room.

Still holding the image of a ghostly girl silently staring back.

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When Advika slowly opened her eyes, everything felt hazy like waking up from a strange, unsettling dream. Her head throbbed dully, and a warm breeze brushed against her face.

She blinked a few times before realizing she was no longer in the royal chamber.

She was lying on a folded shawl beneath the shade of a tree, surrounded by concerned faces.

"She's awake," Nusrat said softly, visibly relieved.

Joseph immediately stepped forward and crouched beside her, holding out a water bottle. "Easy," he said gently, helping her sit up. "Sip this slowly."

Advika took a few grateful sips as her senses returned. Her throat was dry, her palms clammy, and the golden sunlight seemed too sharp. Everything was too bright.

"You gave us a scare," Joseph said, exhaling with tension he hadn't realized he was holding. "I think you might've suffered from a mild heatstroke. We've been walking around these ruins non-stop for the past couple of days... it's bound to take a toll."

He stood up and turned to address the group. "This goes for everyone... please remember to stay hydrated. We're not here to fall sick."

The rest of the team murmured acknowledgements, Chirag already reaching for his water bottles.

Turning back to Advika, Joseph's tone softened. "You should head back to the resort for today. Get some rest. There's no pressure. You can rejoin us tomorrow once you feel better, okay?"

Advika nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah... that sounds like a good idea."

She felt drained; physically, yes, but more so emotionally. The ghostly visions, the strange occurrences, the mirror... it was all getting too much. A part of her wanted to blurt everything out right there, but something held her back. Maybe it was fear. Maybe disbelief. Or maybe... she just didn't want anyone to think she was losing it.

As Nusrat helped her to her feet, Advika shot one last glance at the direction of the palace chambers.

The image of the girl in the mirror still haunted her but for now, she just wanted silence.

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After returning from the ruins, Advika barely managed to take a shower. The exhaustion, both physical and mental, was undeniable. Within minutes of lying down, she drifted into a deep sleep.

When she woke up, the sky outside their window had already begun to turn a soft orange. She rubbed her temples and sat up, still feeling the heaviness from earlier. Then, as she reached for her bag to grab her sketchbook, her fingers brushed against something much heavier.

Her eyes widened.

"The lehenga..." she whispered.

It was the very one she had discovered in Princess Saanvi's chamber before fainting... ornate, timeworn, yet hauntingly beautiful. The golden zari shimmered faintly in the evening light. A note from Nusrat was tucked into its folds.

Thought you'd want to study it.

You can return to to it's place tomorrow. 

—N

Advika smiled. "Nusrat is a genius," she muttered, carefully spreading the lehenga out across the bed. "Now I can study the design more closely... I'll return it tomorrow when we go back."

She began taking notes, sketching the patterns, feeling the aged fabric beneath her fingers. There was a strange pull to it... like the threads still carried whispers from the past.

Not long after, the door opened, and Nusrat stepped inside, slightly damp and flushed from the heat. She spotted Advika hunched over the desk, completely engrossed in her work. With a fond smile, she headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

When she emerged a few minutes later, towel around her neck, she reached for her brush, but froze mid-step.

Advika was still at the desk, scribbling and sketching away but she wasn't alone.

Behind her stood a girl.

No.

A ghost.

Draped in a heavy work red bridal lehenga, the apparition appeared as though she'd stepped out of another time... or another realm. Her bridal look was marred by a grotesque horror... her wrists slashed open, blood dripping soundlessly onto the carpet. The thick crimson pooled around her bare feet, yet Advika remained oblivious.

Nusrat's breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to scream... to call out, to warn her friend... but then the ghost slowly turned to look at her.

Their eyes met.

Or rather... Nusrat saw where eyes should've been.

Two hollow, gaping voids stared back at her, where eyes should have been. Streams of blood trickled from those dark pits, tracing eerie paths down her pale cheeks. A deep, blood-soaked gash slashed across her chest as if she had been violently stabbed straight through the heart.

Then, in a slow, eerie motion, the ghost girl raised a trembling hand to her lips and pressed a bloodied finger over them.

Shhh.

Nusrat's legs refused to move. Her hands trembled. She couldn't look away. The temperature in the room dropped drastically, her breath fogging up in the air as the silence thickened around her.

The ghost lingered another second... then vanished.

Gone. No sound. No warning. Just... gone.

And Advika?

Still sketching, completely unaware of what had just happened.

The sharp thud of something heavy hitting the floor jolted Advika out of her thoughts. She turned around sharply to find Nusrat collapsed on the floor, her face pale and eyes wide with shock.

"Nusu?" Advika blinked in confusion. "Why are you sitting there?" She tilted her head, not yet registering the fear in her friend's eyes.

But when Nusrat didn't answer, just stared blankly ahead as if still seeing something no one else could, Advika's confusion turned to concern. "Wait... are you feeling dizzy?" she asked quickly, rushing over to help her.

"Here, come on, sit on the bed," she said, supporting Nusrat and helping her up gently. She grabbed the water bottle from the side table, unscrewed the cap, and handed it over. "Drink. Slowly."

Nusrat's hands trembled as she took the bottle. After a few gulps, she finally found her voice. "Advika... I think we made a mistake."

"What do you mean?" Advika's brows furrowed, unease crawling up her spine.

"That lehenga..." Nusrat said, her voice barely a whisper. "We shouldn't have brought it here. I think... she followed us."

Advika's blood ran cold. "She...? You mean...."

"The ghost girl." Nusrat nodded shakily. "She was here. Just now. She was standing right behind you, wearing a bridal lehenga. I saw her with my own eyes."

Advika could only stare at her, mouth slightly parted, heart thundering in her chest.

"Her wrists were bleeding, Advika," Nusrat continued, voice shaking. "The blood... it was dripping onto the floor. And her face... God, her face. There were no eyes. Just two black, gaping voids. Blood was pouring from them. And her chest..." she trailed off, her eyes welling up. "It looked like someone had stabbed her."

Advika turned her head slowly to glance at the lehenga spread across the desk, now bathed in soft yellow lamplight. What once felt like a rare artifact now radiated something... sinister.

A heavy silence hung between them, dense and suffocating.

"We brought something cursed," Nusrat whispered.

"And now... she knows where to find us," Advika replied, her voice barely audible.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Nusrat, gathering what little courage she had left, muttered, "We should take it back. Tomorrow. First thing."

Advika nodded slowly. "Yes. We have to put it back exactly where we found it. Before things get worse." But then she hesitated, biting her lower lip. "But... I don't think I can go back there alone."

Nusrat looked at her, her expression mirroring the same fear. "Neither can I."

The two girls sat frozen, the cursed lehenga between them and the ghost's presence thick in the air... an unspoken warning hanging heavily in the room.

They both knew one thing for certain now.

She was real.
And she wasn't done with them yet.

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Advika found herself standing in the Rajmanya palace, her heart racing as she looked around, confused. The night air was heavy with an eerie silence, and she couldn't understand how or why she was here.

What was happening?

Why was she here... in this palace, at this hour?

Before she could make sense of it, a sound reached her. A voice, desperate and pleading. She followed the sound, the urgency of it quickening her pulse.

She followed it, her feet moving on instinct, breath catching as she turned a corner.

And then...

That corridor.

The same cold, silent corridor.

Stone walls stretched endlessly on either side, lined with flickering torches that offered little warmth. The air was heavy, oppressive as if it carried the weight of time itself. 

 She knew this place. Knew it like the back of her hand. 

She had walked these halls in her dreams. Again and again.

For nine years.

The same dream.. over and over.

"Wait a minute... this corridor belongs to the Rajmanya Palace?" she whispered, eyes wide with disbelief.

The stillness.

The faint scent of smoke.

The aching dread that always curled in her chest.

And above all... the same girl, crying in the distance. The soft, broken sobs that tugged at her chest like invisible strings.

She followed the sound until she reached a room. Her breath hitched as she realized... this was the dream. The same dream that had haunted her for the last nine years. 

But this time, everything was sharper, clearer, vivid in its terrifying detail. No more blurry, indistinct scenes. She could see everything in front of her with painful clarity.

Advika moved slowly into a familiar room.. her heart in her mouth.

And there she was.

Just like always.

"No... Please... I'm your niece... Chacha ji, please... have mercy!" the girl cried, her voice raw and panicked, stumbling backward, her trembling hands clutching the heavy folds of a red bridal lehenga. The ornate fabric dragged around her like chains, as though it too were part of her prison.

But this time? This time, it was different.

The girl's face.

After nine long years of seeing only shadows in her dreams...

Advika finally saw her face.

Wide, tear-filled eyes. Quivering lips. Delicate features contorted with fear and heartbreak. And somehow, instantly... she knew her.

She had seen that face before.

Not in any portrait. 

Not in any photo.

But in real life... haunting the hallways of Rajmanya Palace.

She remembered following this girl. A girl who looked like a younger version of Advika herself. No older than sixteen or seventeen.

Advika had seen that same youthful innocence in the mirror nine years ago. And, now it all clicked into place.

The cold presence behind her. 

The figure in the mirror.

The name written in blood across her sketchbook the day before:

Princess Saanvi Rathore.

The ghost who had haunted the palace.

The girl from her dreams.

The name scrawled in her sketchbook when she couldn't understand what was happening to her.

It had all been the same person.

And suddenly, she knew the truth.

All these years... all this time...

Advika had been dreaming about Princess Saanvi.

The realization crashed into her like a tidal wave, knocking the air from her lungs.

"Princess Saanvi..." she whispered, barely able to breathe the name aloud.

Before her, the man advanced. His face still hidden in shadows. But Advika didn't need to see his face.

She knew.

Her paternal uncle.

The girl's "Chacha ji."

The man lifted a dagger. The blade gleamed under the dim torchlight, its deadly shine sending a fresh wave of dread through Advika's chest. She had seen this part too... again and again. The ending of the dream.

But this time, it felt real. Too real.

The girl stumbled, her back slamming into the stone wall behind her, her voice cracking with desperation. "Chacha ji... please..."

But the man didn't stop.

The dagger rose.

And in that moment, Advika's instincts took over. "STOOOOOOPPPPP!" she screamed.

Her scream sliced through the air like a blade, sharp and urgent. Time seemed to slow, the sound of her voice reverberating off the stone walls, echoing with the weight of a thousand unsaid words. The figure in front of the girl, her younger self, paused. The dagger hung there, suspended, as if caught in the moment between life and death. 

 The girl flinched, her tear-filled eyes snapping to Advika, though she couldn't see her. It was as if the scream had bridged the gap between two realities, pulling Advika deeper into the dream, into the past. 

Slowly, the man turned.

Advika's breath caught in her throat as his face emerged from the shadows. The family resemblance was undeniable. But the cruelty in his smile twisted her stomach.

He wasn't just an uncle.

He was a monster wearing the mask of blood.

The dagger lowered but the moment was thick with tension, a breath away from shattering again.

Advika stepped forward, her hand half-raised, words trembling on her lips. But the dream was already unraveling.

The room around her began to blur.
The girl.
The uncle.
The palace walls.

All of it faded... like ink swirling into water.

"No!" Advika cried, her voice cracking as the darkness closed in.

Something was pulling her out, dragging her away... forcing her to wake. And then....

Silence.

Everything disappeared into nothingness.

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Advika's eyes snapped open, her breath ripping from her lungs in ragged gasps. Her body convulsed with trembling shakes, soaked in cold sweat, her heart pounding so violently it felt like it might burst through her ribs. The nightmare still clung to her mind like a suffocating fog, shadows crawling behind her eyelids.

Her hands clawed at the darkness, desperate for anything to steady the rising panic clawing inside her chest. Then, almost too quick, a glass of water was pressed into her palms.

She didn't dare look up. Not yet. The water was icy cold, sharp against her cracked lips, and she swallowed it down in one desperate gulp. But it did nothing to cool the inferno burning deep inside her.

A sudden, chilling thought froze her blood: Nusrat was sleeping soundly in the other bed across the room. How could she have moved so fast? The silence in the room deepened, pressing down like a living weight.

Advika set the glass down on the nightstand with a shaky hand, and her eyes lifted.

The world slowed, the air thickening until it was almost solid.

At the foot of her bed sat the girl.

The girl from the palace.

The girl who looked exactly like her... no older than sixteen or seventeen, a pale echo of a nightmare she'd hoped was gone forever.

But this wasn't the soft-faced girl she once knew.

This was a grotesque mockery.

The girl wore a red bridal lehenga, embroidered in gold, regal and radiant... yet soaked in blood so dark it seemed to drink the light from the room. Rivers of blood wept down her cheeks, bright crimson tears carving deep, angry streaks through the pale skin.

Her wrists, twisted unnaturally in her lap, were sliced wide open. Fresh, glistening wounds oozed thick, blackened blood, the stench of iron hanging heavy in the cold air. And worst of all, a gaping hole yawned in the center of her chest, ragged and raw. It was as if something had torn through her, stealing the very essence of her life. From that void, a faint whisper seemed to seep... something like a scream, or a warning but Advika's ears rang with silence.

The girl's sunken eyes locked on Advika's, hollow and burning with a terrible sorrow. Slowly, the girl smiled.

A smile that cracked like shattered glass.

Advika's throat tightened. The panic twisted into pure, paralyzing terror.

And then...

The scream tore itself from her lips.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

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To be continued...

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A/N::: Sometimes the past doesn't stay buried. Sometimes, the shadows you think you've escaped are waiting, just beyond the edge of your vision—patient, hungry, and eager to pull you back in. Sleep tight... if you can.

Now, I want to know—did this chapter give you chills? Drop a vote and tell me how scared you really are! 😈🔥