I reached Rao Wada, the old mansion that was now alive and grand, but would one day be a haunted ruin.

The wooden doors loomed before me, their dark grain smooth beneath my fingertips.

A strange nervous energy prickled beneath my skin.

This house is not safe.

I could feel it.

The furniture's varnished scent, the fragility of the wooden beams, the lack of heavy steel , it all felt precarious.

One Spark. One Fire. And everything would be gone.

A knot of dread curled in my chest.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was running out of time.

That something unseen was already at work.

And that Ketki Aunt's arrival was only the beginning of the storm to come.

"Today, I'm going to talk about fire safety!"

I strode into the kitchen with confidence, determined to make a difference. The house was a fire hazard, and if I was stuck in this past, I wasn't about to let history repeat itself.

The kitchen was alive with the sounds of simmering pots, clinking metal spoons, and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables. Flames flickered from oil lamps lining the shelves, their golden glow casting dancing shadows across the stone walls.

"We already know all that," the maids chorused, barely sparing me a glance.

"Let us cook, Minitai. Move aside," Shaku, the head cook, nudged me away, her hands dusted in flour.

"But this house is a fire hazard! I'm going to buy fire extinguishers and install them in each room," I insisted, crossing my arms.

Shaku shot me a look of exasperation, but Ramya, the youngest maid, blinked at me curiously.

"Fire extinguishers?" she repeated, testing the unfamiliar words. "What on earth are those?"

I launched into an explanation, trying to bridge the gap between my modern knowledge and their old-world ways. But the moment I mentioned carbon dioxide, Ramya's eyes widened like I had spoken black magic.

"Car... bon?" she whispered, reverent and wary.

"It's science! It saves lives," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "Never leave candles and lamps unattended."

A snicker escaped Shaku.

"Isn't it you who forgot to put out a lamp last year? Nearly set fire to the curtains, didn't you?" She smirked, shaking her head. "Listen to your own advice before lecturing us, Minitai."

I stammered, caught off guard. Me? The old Saudamini nearly caused a fire?

Before I could recover, Shaku clapped her hands, calling for more flour. "Enough talk. We have work to do."

I was dismissed.

Resined, My fire-safety ambitions officially crushed.

As I wandered the halls, the air felt thick, the house itself exhaling the scent of old wood and damp stone. The past pressed in on me, heavy and suffocating.

--------

The Well That Spoke

I passed by the old well, the place where the kitchen once stood before my father's renovations.

Dark, open, and unused, the well stood like a forgotten relic. Shadows clung to the damp stones, pooling in its depths.

A faint, rusty, metallic scent drifted up from below.

I peered inside.

The darkness stared back.

A shiver crawled down my spine.

Then

"Help me."

A voice.

Faint. Echoing.

Too real.

My blood turned to ice.

I whipped around, but the corridor was empty.

No one was there.

The whisper had come from inside the well.

I stumbled back, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"This place is haunted."

Panic surged through me. I had to get away.

I turned and ran, my footsteps slapping against the stone, the air thick with something unseen.

Without realizing it, I found myself near the lake behind the mansion.

The water was still. Too still.

I stared into its depths, my heartbeat thunderous in my ears.

Legend says this lake belonged to someone before our family.

Someone who met a tragic end here.

"You can't swim in that lake anymore."

Aunt's voice cut through my thoughts, making me jump.

She stood a few feet away, her gaze wary.

"I know," I mumbled.

Her expression softened, and she took my arm.

"Come back inside. This lake isn't for you."

I let her lead me away, but the unease remained.