The room fell into complete silence as the figure stepped inside. The dim light from the passage cast a long shadow across the floor. Satya held his breath, pressing himself against the wall. Saanvi clutched his arm, her fingers trembling.
Virendra's grip tightened on his dagger, his eyes locked on the intruder. Professor Raghav remained still, barely breathing.
The figure took another step forward, boots scuffing against the dusty floor. Then, they hesitated.
A raspy voice broke the silence.
"I know you're here."
Satya's pulse hammered in his ears. The voice was aged, tired, but laced with something else—determination.
The stranger moved toward the desk, gloved hands brushing against the scattered papers. A sigh escaped them, almost as if they had been expecting this moment.
"You came searching for Veer Meghawal's truth… just as I did once."
Satya's heart clenched. Whoever this was—they had been here before.
Virendra, always the boldest, took the risk. He stepped into the dim light, dagger lowered but ready. "Who are you?"
The stranger didn't flinch. Slowly, they turned to face them, the faint glow revealing an elderly man with deep-set eyes and a lined face, aged by time and secrets.
"My name is Aryan Solanki. And if you're searching for the truth, you're already in danger."
Satya stepped forward, cautious. "You knew Veer?"
Aryan's gaze sharpened. "Not personally. But I spent my life trying to uncover what really happened to him."
He turned to the sketch of the masked figure on the wall. "And I know who betrayed him."
Saanvi took a step closer. "Was it… Devashish?"
Aryan exhaled sharply. "Devashish was involved, yes. But he wasn't alone."
Satya felt a cold chill creep up his spine. "Then who?"
Aryan's eyes darkened. "Veer's best friend. The one who stood beside him till the end. The one he trusted the most."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Satya's mind raced. If what Aryan was saying was true, then Veer had been betrayed not just by the powerful, but by someone he considered family.
Virendra frowned. "Why should we trust you?"
Aryan stepped forward, reaching into his coat. He pulled out an old, tattered journal—bound in leather, its pages yellowed with age. He handed it to Satya.
"Because Veer left this behind."
Satya's hands shook as he opened the journal. The faded ink, the hurried handwriting—it was unmistakably Veer's.
And on the first page, one line stood out.
"If you are reading this, I was never meant to survive."
A shudder ran through the room.
The past wasn't just haunting them.
It was warning them.