𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓁ℴ𝑔𝓊ℯᯓᡣ𐭩

---

The mist drapes itself over Coonoor like a shroud, but silence here is never innocent. The earth remembers too much-ash buried under soil, blood seeping where roots should drink only rain.

Clocks do not break by accident. They shatter on command. And when they halt at 11:11, something awakens in the cracks of time.

A feather left on cold stone.
A number burned into flesh.
A whisper curling through walls where no mouth speaks.

The church fell fourteen years ago, but its fire still burns. The tea estate grows leaves that taste of death. And somewhere in this town, a shadow waits-patient, hungry, nameless.

Memory is not merciful. It comes back sharper than the first wound, dragging with it everything you thought you buried.

The question is not who the Shadow is.
The question is-when it finally steps into the light, will anyone survive long enough to see its face?

---